[b]Helios Station[/b]

Sadaet saw the two men out of the corner of his eye as they sidled up to him at the bar. They were punctual, at least. One of them was older, with a jarring scar across his face. The other one was younger, messier, with wild black hair: he smelled like explosive residue, which only mildly concerned Sadaet. He extended his hand out to the older one, who was in front. He introduced himself in an odd mix of British colonial accents: "Sadaet, I presume? I'm Stryker. Let me grab a drink and we can talk business."

He turned to the bartender, the human closest to the counter, and asked for two of Sadaet's lagers. He ordered them over to a booth, which he cocked his head towards. Sadaet let them lead the way, keeping them a few footsteps in front of him as he subtly touched the handle of his revolver one last time under his jacket. It was a characteristic tell: he scolded himself internally to stop doing that so much. The two men sat down at the table. Sadaet kept his back to the door, something he was uncomfortable with but did as a gesture of respect anyways.

The mercenary took a sip out of his beer and leaned back into the table. "So I read this contract that you sent me and the job sounds all well and good... even if it doesn't sound like much at all. I feel like there's some super secret squirrel shit you've got, which I can deal with. I haven't been able to find out much about you or whatever crew you flew into the station with."

Sadaet gestured to the women in the next booth over. "Those girls have some pretty phony signal signatures, I feel like they belong with you as well. Am I right? Or are there two groups of secret squirrels on this station. It's a pretty big posse you have rounded up. What's my role in it?"

[@Crossfire] [@Rultaos]