Nestled underneath the station's common area and living quarters, the haven was a self-serve establishment built out of one of the station's many storage rooms. Bottles and dispensers lines the far wall, with sparse, clean tables marking a rather unremarkable floor.
Very few ever came to this place, save for the handful of residents which call Junction home.
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Though it had taken most of his credit reserves, as well as the entirety of the hull panels and electronic components he had stockpiled onboard their former home at the Junk Pile, he had managed to fix up and re-pressurize a large portion of the station, working alongside the others in the rag-tag band.
This particular room had been particularly difficult to get into working order, particularly as it was less of a room and more of a small space obviously intended for storage. Regardless, it had been renovated into a condition that was almost cozy, and stocked with an almost default selection of alcohol, mostly provided by him. He was proud of his handiwork, as he felt, perhaps justifiably, that since he provided the materials for the renovation of the station, he deserved a majority of the credit.
"After a long, hard day's work of legitimate commodity transportatin'..."
Quietly ducking in through the low entrance hatch, into the bar, Mordecai, sauntered his way in to the small menagerie of boring furniture and strong liquor.
He quickly scanned the room, his paranoid urges taking over for the slightest moment as he tallied the people milling about. Just one; McCoy. Not surprising.
After a few jaunty steps towards the bar, he picked up a small bottle of wine, enough for two people. A small memory flashed in his head; picking up a load of these bottles from some stray, foreign trader. They'd kept a few for the stock, and sold the rest.
Once he'd secured his intoxicating liquid, he made his way over to one of the few tables with more than one chair.
A loud meowing noise could be heard as a white fluffy furball of a cat frantically rushed out of the entry hatch and into the room, bumping into the liquor cabinet and knocking over a bottle of wine, before running back towards the hatch and jumping into the arms of a young woman who just squeezed through.
Rebecca let out a deep sigh. The cat would have to be put on a leash from now on.
She gives the other residents an apologetic look. "Sorry..."
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He set his hat on the table and looked over at Rebecca, little on his face other than his arched eyebrows indicating annoyance.
"I paid good money fer these things, miss. Don't tell me that I gotta put a cage around the shelves so that yer little kitty can't get to'um. Generosity, even towards the folks ya live with, 'as got its limits."
Though his remarks were mostly joking, he was secretly quite upset at the thought of a good dozen credits having just been forever lost. Either way, he turned away and resumed his drinking. It was widely known that unless you were going to make him laugh or get agitated about something else, you did not interrupt McCoy when he's drinking.
"O-oh, of c-course not..." Rebecca stuttered the words, as she dug a small leash from her purse and put it around the now-calm cat. Pulling out a plastic bag, she tied the feisty feline to a nearby chair and picked up the pieces of broken glass bottle, while the cat toyed with her floor-length hair.
After tossing the bottle remnants out of the airlock, Rebecca grabbed an unbroken bottle herself and poured out a drink.
Mordecai, who had lost himself in his own thoughts, snapped his head up at the sound of glass breaking. His eyes were set upon Rebecca, standing near a somewhat disgruntled-looking McCoy, a small pool of wine
He jumped up, ran over, and quickly wiped up the wine before it had the chance to spread and stain Rebecca's shoes.
Deftly snapping back upright, and discarding the now-stained rag that he had produced, Mordecai took a seat across from her, and proceeded to pour himself a drink in a mirror of what she had done.
Catherine wiped the sweat off her brow and started mixing herself a margarita. She sat down at the bar and got her PDA out. She checked the 5-KYP-3 network, Smoke and the Endeavour forums. No sign of James. Just as she was starting to lose hope, a message came in.
Hey, Catherine.
I'm in Rheinland at the moment, negotiating a killer deal on a kiloton of diamonds from the Dresden system. Don't worry, I'll be home soon. Is there anything you want to get while I'm here?
Still lovin' you,
James.
Catherine smiled as she closed the message. She wondered how long it would be. Until then, it was just her and the music...
Young energized man of 22 and a half, specialized in theoretical zero-g engineering, walks into the bar.
He observes the modern furnitures set across the room, the glowing blue light of the tables. The bottles and bottles of drinks along the top of the cabinet.
He nods. Wild run, and fantastic profits
He thought back to the meeting with Mordecai, and then the Junction's crew. Then the events they were just in. He smiles at how great life is sometimes.
Rahl, more commonly called as Calculus (for his specialty in calculus, he thinks), strides over to a bar stool, and grabbed a bottle of Martini. Took a slip, and let out a satisfying sigh.
More than happy with his new shelter, he continues the chat with his new allies and friends.
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