You open the hailing frequencies.
"Dominion 'ere."
"Bartender Arnold-"
"Drinks, issit?"
"Well, yes."
"We'll consider. Dominion out."
The frequency is closed before you can even exhale a breath.
1236USY.7d/1m.1213h
It takes a while, but the hiss of the bar's main gate opening heralds that crew of Dominion did consider the drinks.
There's a three of them: one, scrawny, short, a little shriveled up and elderly looking man in a businessman's outfit with his slick black hair brushed backwards. He is flanked by two other men; a burly blonde somewhere in his early 20s, with bright skin, messy hair and lots of freckles dusting the bridge of his nose. The third man is a bit shorter, and lankier, than the blonde, and has dark skin and black hair, and some sort of listening or communication device attached to his left ear.
You notice some movement behind them, and realize there's a fourth person - a short woman definitely in late teens, with long red hair and sparkly, blue eyes. Both she and the two taller men wear ashen grey jumpsuits with brown streaks - so you get the idea that they're the crew subservient to the grumpy looking businessman.
"Aight." He says with a raspy, croaking voice, seating himself at the counter. His three crewmembers stand by him.
"Asteroids--" He turns to his crew.
"And what ye be havin'?""Asteroids too, boss." Says the woman.
"A shot of skinjuice. No, cherrybomb." Says the dark-skinned man.
There's brief pause, and the business guy turns to the blonde.
"Corwyll?""I'm fine boss, thanks.""Suit yeself." The small man nods and turns to you.
"Alright, son, two 'steroids and a cherrybomb. And be fast, we are a bit on a schedule 'ere." With a nod, you quickly prepare two glasses of Asteroids, pour a shot of Cherrybomb, and serve all three glasses towards the businessman.
"Y'all better not spill anythin' this time, I ain't paying for seconds." He says, fishing out a small credchip from his suit's breast pocket. It is pitch black, framed with some gold-like material.
It goes beep just like the others, though. (+152c)Today Earnings: 152c
Monthly Earnings: 4028.5cPatron ID: Samel Ohagan
Occupation: Captain of "Dominion', Hornburg-class Asteroid Mining Vessel, Federal Navigator 2nd Class (retired), Zero-G Miner (retired)
Conv.Style: CHILLY
Liked drinks: fiery, sweet
Disliked drinks: soft
Mr.Ohagan takes a deep gulp of Asteroids, gasps at the taste, and smiles - barely.
"Good stuff. This is Corwyll." He points a shriveled, long finger at the blonde man.
"This is Gering, and Natasha." He whips his finger around, to point at the dark-skinned man, and then the woman. The trio slowly takes their seats at the counter too, Gering and Natasha reaching for and taking sips of their drinks.
"You ain't got any better music than this, son? Somethin' orchestral maybe?" Samel asks, nodding towards the speakers above, playing some typically clubbing-and-synthetic music.
A) "Sorry, but no. Company sets the venues."
B) Fiddle with the playlist, maybe there is something orchestral for Samel there?
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Topic: Bartender of Galactic Refueling Outpost 254831: Arnold! (Read 107049 times)