You push the button to accept the call.
"Hello. Vincent Geg'l of Tanzanian Astrophysics Union here."
"Bartender Arnold of Synthol Refueling Conglomerate."
"Yes, nice to meet you, you've pinged us before, right?"
"I wish to offer you some synthols if you need a drink."
"Well, hmm, we're mostly done here. Hold a sec--"
The call is muted, rather precisely, for exactly a second.
"--so alright. I'm not much of a synthol drinker but my friend here is quite a drunk so- ow -we will arrive shortly. See you in a few. What was that f-"
The call ends then.
The security console informs you that the ship from earlier has departed Beta Carotenii I and is on direct course for your Outpost.
Sensors Station Alert! IFF beacon translation in progress...
Done!
"Megas III" Nebula-class Science Vessel, approaching from the direction of Beta Carotenii I.
Standard docking request received.
Docking Airlock assigned: #7 (authority: Automated Refueling AI)
Estimated arrival time: 7 minutes
You scratch your chin and then walk back to the bar.
1236USY.5d/1m.1806h
Shortly after Megas III docks with your outpost, a rather constrasting pair of patrons steps inside. They both wear black-and-blue jumpsuits, although the woman has a light blue lab coat drapped over her shoulders for some reason.
The man has a pair of dog-ears instead of human ones, and a rather fluffy, if short, tail, swishing behind him. His hair is yellow-orange, except for the tips of his ears and tail where the hairs have a brighter, beige-like hue. You can notice the tops of at least two datapads poking out of the pocket on his chest's left side.
The woman is taller than him, and her long, black hair is luscious and straight. Her light blue eyes look around for someone, and the stomping you hear is only a prelude to what happens next.
She slams her palms onto the counter and looks you in the eyes.
"Listen here, barkeep!! I am NOT a drunk! Just because I like synthols so much does NOT make me a drunk! I resent my colleague's accusation, and I'm telling you I will sue him for emotional damages, and I will drag you and your corporation into the lawsuit if you side with that good-for-nothing doggy scientist." She points her right index finger at you in accusatory manner.
"Is that understood??" You blink at the loud woman and glance at her Caninoid colleague.
He manages to keep a neutral facial expression but the tail furiously swishing behind his back betrays the fact he is enjoying the scene quite a lot.
"How about some Skinjuice, Angela?" He says with a happy tone of voice, his lips twisting into a stupid grin when the black-haired 'Angela' turns to look at him in fury.
A) Acknowledge the woman's warning, and serve them some Skinjuice.
B) Don't acknowledge the warning, but serve them Skinjuice anyway.
C) Acknowledge the woman's warning, but don't serve them anything just yet.
D) "I would rather have my clients behave whilst onboard, please and thank you."
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Topic: Bartender of Galactic Refueling Outpost 254831: Arnold! (Read 107104 times)