[[Alec walks in and sits down on the bar stool , It was possible to see that he was carrying more then 1 weapon hidden under hes heavy miner coat.]]


[With a strong French ascent ...] Bonjour Monsieur , i would like to....

[Mick interrupts Alec right way ...] Let me guess? Wine!? ahahah [Hysterical Laugh ]

[Which Alec Replies ...] Ah... In any other occasion i would say yes but this time give me the best scotch available.

[While Alec drinks he's scotch hes looks at the blonde sitting right next to her and mumbles something in French]

The gentle tapping of shoes signalled the entry of a new patron. He dusted his hands, seeming a little displeased at the bright lighting. His suit was a perfect white, impeccable despite the fact he obviously flew there. He held in his hand a perfect red rose, and he looked at the figure spinning the knife in her hand, and smiled at her, never showing his teeth.
Walking past the current patrons of the bar, he walked up and ordered a simple glass of water- earning him an odd look from quite a few of the more alcohol-prefering bargoers, and took a seat at one of the tables by himself, setting the rose delicately down beside him.

---

After hearing Izzy's explanation, Leon could help but to release a small and sincere smile, remembering how he did the exact same thing the first time he arrived on the Station. He took a sip of his beer while watching how she dealt with the "spies", slowly smiling.

"You're a rare breed Izzy, you know that? I haven't seen many sweet ladies like yourself, that are both good looking and capable of taking care of themselves. You amuse me greatly."

He lit his cigarette with ease and played with his glass for a few moments.

"It just crossed my mind. Such a capable young lady must be working for someone equally capable or at least well paying. Who might that be? Forgive me if my question is overly aggressive, but that's just the way I am."

He downed his beer, and continued with his cigarette, while occasionally making eye contact with the bar patrons, examining them...

Izzy took a sip of her vodka.

"I work for whoever pays the most. No one right now."

Izzy twirls the knife and then returns it to wherever she had hidden it

---

In a bar full odd figures, it is no surprise that Tharog Frosthearth entered the place as well. With an assault rifle in his hands and a cigarette in his mouth he looks around and observes the various figures there.
He notices Alec Mason at the bar, recognizing him from the transmission. He walks over to the bar.

"One Liberty ale, please"

As he receives the drink he sits down next to Alex, placing his weapon against the wall.

"'Ey ye are that revolutionary-lad ain't ye?"

He reaches out his hand to him.

"Tharog Frosthearth, DJ of Hell FM, member of McDowell's Fleet Company, ex-Hellfire Legion fleet admiral"

He drinks some of his ale.

---

Leon raised his gaze to meet Izzy's eyes.

"You work for whoever pays the most? You're a Freelancer. How fortunate, I'm one as well."

He fills his glass with the brew one more time.

"Even so, you seem to carry less prejudices, unlike me. I couldn't stand to work with everybody, Bretonian pride and so on..."

He turns his attention to Tharog, who he only saw on some footages. He keeps his gaze on him for a few seconds, and then returns to the drink and Izzy...

A young woman enters the bar and looks around, examining the people in the bar. She notices Tharog Frosthearth, her "brother" but since he seems busy she just decides to take the seat in the corner and hails the bartender.

"Simple glass of ice water"

She leans back and takes a look at Tharog and Alec as she waits for her drink

---

Julian glances across the room at the new arrival. Smiling slightly at her, He takes the rose and, like a dart, flicks it towards her table, landing it expertly on the polished wood in front of her.

---

"Los Angeles born. My dad kicked me and my brother out, and I decided tio not be prejudice, among other things."

Izzy saw Julian flick the rose over.

"Show off." She said, loud enough for Julian to hear.

---

An angry voice can be heard just outside the doorway to the bar. "Aye Chica, you may share my blood but you call me a half breed witch again and it'll be your blood spilled!" A young latina woman enters the bar as she slams her comm unit shut. Her long red hair glistens like copper beside her olive skin.

Angry and frustrated she looks around the bar and spies the man singing softly. Heading towards his table she calls out to the bartender, "Three shots of your best tequila, no salt, no lime." After a brief pause she adds with a gesture, "And whatever this one is having."

Without asking she takes a seat and rubs her forehead, trying to stave off a migraine sized headache. "Buenos tardes amigo. Pray that you never have the family troubles like me. Corsair and Outcast are alike, both hate me due to the mixed blood. Romeo and Juliet does not compare to the marriage of my parents. The blood spilled at the wedding alone was enough to curse them and me, their progeny."

She sighs deeply and mutters, "From la familia to the Zoners, and then even they say to get out for fear of reprisal. Aunque la mona se vista de seda, mona sequeda. In spite of a new look, things remain the same no?"

*another sigh*

"Such is the life I chose on my own. I take the work where it can be found."

As she waits for the drinks to arrive, she takes a small pill case from her jacket and pops two of them. "So, que paso with you? It's been a while has it not?"

---