"Kalashnikov's", Zvezdny Gorodok

[snowdog1717]

Dmitri Demidov walked for the first time into Kalashnikov's, taking in the sight by slowly walking towards one of the bars. looking at the giant wall of vodka, not looking where he was going he ran straight into a Commander sitting there and sipping on a glass.

"ufff! Hay! I'm walking he-- Oh, Commandate, I-I'm sorry I didn't see--"

Dmitri trys to keep out of arms reach asthe Commandate turns to face him.

---

[Tabris]

As Ben was about to take another drink he suddenly felt something impact, thankfully none of his Vodka spilled so that was a relief, as he looked over his shoulder towards the one who ran into him he gave a small chuckle.

"No worries Comrade" he reassured the young man, patting the stool next to him. "Come, sit down Comrade and have some Vodka, only the best in Sirius we have here." he chuckles while taking a sip of his own drink.

[snowdog1717]

Dmitri nods, and then slowly takes the seat and orders the first drink that catches hiseye.

"I'll have Akdov, on rocks. Commandate, may I ask what you are doing all alone?"

Looking up and down the row of stools, and seeing that the closest person was three seats down.

---

[Tabris]

Ben chuckled as he sipped his own Vodka.

"Comrade, what else brings us here at the end of a day?" he asked in reply to the man's question, taking a large drink from his glass before signaling the barkeep for another. After he was poured another he took another large drink from it before letting out a breath.

"I'm constantly being buried in Paperwork, if not from the Fighter Corps than from Research and Development...What brings YOU here Comrade?" he asks, curious as why Dmitri was down in Kalashnikov's.

[Jayce]

Jayce walked quickly into the room with a slight murmer to himself, "Friggin' Kusarians, I told captain Alvarez that they had no honor... I told him it was a trap... But no, it was 'our only option', and at least we would have some 'propaganda'. At least I gave the bastards a fight before..." he trailed off... He sat at one of the tables in the corner, not expecting anyone to notice him. He pulled a small flask from his jacket pocket, and poured a purple powder into it... "Drink Mix, Grape" was written on the side of the packet, and under that was written "premier approved" in tiny, barely legible letters. Taking a swig, Jayce laid his head down on the tiny table, and tried to get a little bit of sleep.

// Guys, I'm at military school, so I might be a bit slow to respond to anyone that makes a post.

---

[snowdog1717]

"I'm constantly being buried in Paperwork, if not from the Fighter Corps than from Research and Development...What brings YOU here Comrade?"

"To be honest Commandate, I don't know, after that run through Kusari though....I needed a place to relax, da?"

Dmitri closed his eyes, picturing the Kusari Navy tracking his ship, almost catching him too. That thought sent almost invisable shivers down his spine.
He reached for his glass and downed the whole thing, then asking for a refill, started working on it aswell.

---

[Nichole.Schmidt]

The day ended later than normal for Nichole, having just finished logging in a shipment of hull panels but for as long as the day was, she still made it a point to look her best before venturing into Kalashnikov's for a night cap.

"Ah, Miss Nichole," piped the bartender with a smile as she walked in, "always a pleasant sight when you bless us with your appearance."
She just smiled and lit up the room with it and winked, "Thanks, Sweetie! Some Gallic Wine if you would. Anything stronger and I'll get sleepy."
The bartender put the glass on the counter and filled it, "there you are, Miss."

She took a sip and looked around, "Seen the Premier anywhere?"
"No, hasn't been here in a few days. He's been quite busy," answered the bartender.

With that, she just nodded. She then found a seat on a small table as she placed her purse in her lap. As she enjoyed her wine, she just watched the comings and goings. If nothing else, she found somewhere to unwind a bit.

---

[Pacific]

Petko walked in the Bar he was with his rank Color on his shoulder and the Botev marking pach on his left arm. and saw a lot of officer's. He sighs and enters. All he is hearing is Russian Drinking song's and a lot a talking on Russian, But he hope'd he can hear Bulgarian speech but no. He walk to tbe Bar and ask'd the Bartender. Hey Comrade Zdravei give me a Bottle of Rakia and Water. Bartender reply'd Da Comrade. And he give Petko a Rakia and Water. Petko thinks: Well At least something Bulgarian survived. He went to the Nearest table that had a window overseeing the Moor'd ship to Zhukovski. He seated on a chair and started to review a datapad. Wile time to time he look's at the window and look's at the Botev

---

<3 Omicron <3

<3 Chuba<3

[Tabris]

Kalashnikov's was getting ready for Christmas, decorations were mounted in various places, the Bartender dressed as the ancient figure 'Santa Claus', Ben was sitting at the Bar, chuckling to himself at the Bartender's plight, the Bartender in question glowered at Ben for daring to laugh...The Libertonian revolutionary however just couldn't help himself, smiled at the Bartender and commented "Decided to ditch the Milk and Cookies?" before breaking down laughing, the Bartender's hands clenched at his sides, pondering the merits of killing a Lt.Colonel of the Fighter corps...

[Tomtomrawr]

Robert Miller walked into the Kalashnikov, his posture perfect, his walking cane tapping the floor in rhythmic timing. His cane and footsteps were soon drowned out by the Russian dance music, and the drunk chattering of pilots discussing their various and exciting exploits.

'Da, that Corsair fleet went running at the sight of my Partisan...'

'The Outcast burst into flames!'

'Only we could have been victorious against those odds...'

Miller felt so out of place in this new environment. He was in his mid-twenties now, the posh Bretonian way of life indoctrinated into him. It showed no sign of being purged from his system. The perfect posture, the polite and formal language. Even the cane wasn't really needed, but it was an old trick his father had taught him. 'A cane makes you look respectable,' he had said. He had used it on most ventures ever since.

He had for all his life been submerged in the luxurious son-of-a-businessman life. His informal tongue had been cleansed from his mouth, it was impossible for him to become like the men who he now flew with.

He approached the bar, sliding himself into a stool, and summoned the bartender. He was dressed in a comical "Santa Claus" outfit, chuckling full-heartedly wherever possible to fulfil the Santa stereotype.

The bar was decorated for the season. A Christmas tree stood prominently in one corner, tinsel hung down from the ceiling like vines in a jungle. The spirit of the giving season for many was more intoxicating than the alcohol they drank.

'Ho ho ho,' Miller chuckled, 'I'll have a whiskey if you wouldn't mind, good sir.'

'Da, I shall get it for you now.' A few seconds later, Miller was thanking the bartender for the speedy service and sipping at his whiskey glass. He relished the burning sensation as the liquid travelled down his throat.

He looked so out of place. Would anybody approach to talk?

---

[17:45:39] Wolfs Ghost (Murphy): Tom, you have problems. Go kill yourself.
[19:25:12] Johnny (Jam): Tomtom, I will beat you with a spoon.
[14:22:56] Prarabdh Thakur: KILL HIM WITH A SHEEP.
[17:40:48] Eagle (Junes): Tom should be slapped with a spoon.
[11:32:18] Warspite: Thank you for being so awesome Tom. &lt;3
[18:17:36] Metano: I love you tomtom
[20:06:24] Warspite: I will seriously give you epic head.

Edit: also, Tomtomrawr, fappin' like a boss.