Sayeeda reacted by instinct, on her own account she was not one to watch a child be beaten or killed by an armored man, but Neil’s action removed and need for consideration. Aiding a friend in a brawl wasn’t something she needed to think about.  With scarcely a heart beats pause she stamped her boot down, trapping the bouncing brass casing beneath her boot. She blew out another stream of smoking, mingling with the gun smoke. Roaring with anger the masked tough jumped to his feet, glaring hatefully after the retrating boy. Balked of that prize he turned in anger towards the three spacers. Taya tensed but Junebug put a hand on her knee beneath the table and continued to smoke.

“Was that your doing?” the man snarled, his consanants grinding and choppy. He evidently wasn’t human, or if he was he had suffered extensive damage to his throat at some point.

“Was what our doing?” Sayeeda asked her tone bored and disinterested. She deliberately wafted smoke in the mans direction.

“I didn’t see any doing,” Neil protested innocently.

“Listen space heads someone shot the leg from my chair, do you think I’m blind?!” he made a gestured at the holstered gun slung over the back of Sayeeda’s chair.

“Either blind or stupid,” Sayeeda retorted with a laugh. She pointed at the pistol without moving to draw it. 

“This is clearly a plasma pistol, and as your chair isn’t on fire…”

“You would have me believe you are blameless!” the thug roared, for all his anger he hadn’t yet made a move for a weapon which was a very good thing because given how fast Neil was it was going to be the very last thing he and his pretty jacket ever did.

“There is only one possible conclusion,” Taya said unexpectedly, the helmeted head pivoted to regard the blond girl as she sat primly upright.

“And what is that little slut,” the bravo rasped. Taya ignored the insult and leaned forward conspiratorially.

“The kind must have back up,” she whispered seriously.

“I’ll bet he has a pint sized sniper concealed in those bushes!” It really wasn’t a smart move but Sayeeda burst into full throated laughter at the unexpected quip feeling the tension of long days in the RIP ebb in the moment. The stranger not sharing her amusement reached for a weapon. There was a sudden and unmistakable sound of a large caliber round being chambered. Everyone froze.

“I am sorry for the interruption good sir and madams,” came an accented voice from behind the belligerent man. Between the four principals and the bar stood a man dressed in a dirty chefs smock and a pair of pantaloons. He was fat and hairy and he looked as though he were sweating from the effort of moving as fast as he evidently had. A battered fez with a golden tassel hung over his head and he would have looked completely ridiculous were it not for the fact that he held a truly massive shotgun leveled at the masked man. It must have been a rocket gun of some sort because a breach that big was impractical for a man to fire without at least powered armor to soak the recoil. 

“Management reserves the right to refuse service,” the fellow said in his thick accent, twitching the barrel to indicate the man should leave.

“I am Xir son of Xzdir and I will not forget this insult,” he grated raspily through the rebreather. Junebug’s blood burned with adrenilne and the desire for action, she badly wanted to take all the frustraton and fear of the last few days out on this idiot but she held herself back. Instead she leaned slightly to the side picking up her plate and holding it out to the side.

“What are you doing?!” the Xir roared his eyes flicking between the chef and the three Highlanders.

“Well I haven’t quite finished yet,” she pointed out reaonsabley waggling the plate in slight emphasis.

“I dont want to get pieces of Xir son of whoever the fuck in it if this all goes sideways.” 

Neil and Taya both snorted with laughter and the grinding of Xir’s teeth was almost audible.

“You haven’t heard the last of me,” Xir promised darkly. Junebug made a flicking motion with her free hand. The big man turned to go but the chef held up a finger and waggled it.

“Ah my friend, it is a hot day, perhaps you best leave the coat,” the chef said, though his voice and tone fooled nobody. Xir froze and the rage coming of him was an almost physical thing. The threat hung their for a long moment as Xir weighed his options.

“You cannot rob me in broad daylight merchant,” Xir ground.

“Ah, but it not robbery, it is a recompense for threatening my sons life and as for cannot… either take of the coat or step to the side so that I am not force to ruin the ladys’ kinshana. He punctuated the remark by raking the slide back and chambering another round in the vast gun. Xir pulled his coat off and tossed it to the ground with a snarl. He wore a powered exosuit of unfamiliar design, made of greenish black plasteel.

“I will not forget this!” he blustered and stormed off. The chef watched him go for a long moment before laying the gun on the table and picking up the coat. Without concern he tossed it to a quizzical looking Neil. 

“My friends I owe you a great debt!” the fellow said, smiling like the sun rise before clapping his palms together and bowing from the waist. Conversation began to pick up as people returned to their meals. Sayeeda’s body buzzed like live circuit she was hyped up from the confrontation without any opportunity to burn the adrenaline in action. Right now she had a powerful urge to fuck something or kill someone, or maybe she could settle for getting really really drunk.

“I am Amir son of Hamesh and I say that it is so!” he raced back to the bar and reached over it, giving them an unpleasant view of his pantaloons and their none too tightly sinched belt. A moment later he emerged with a clay vessel of glazed brown pottery. The cork came out with a musical pop and he whisked away their glasses tossing their palm wine out on the floor.

“You do not drink that camels piss,” he declared and filled their glasses from the vessel. It smelled vaguely of currents and was clear as pure water though the fumes coming off it stung Sayeeda eyes. She picked up the glass and tossed it back, expecting a harsh spirit but it went down smooth and cool as ice. If Amir objected to what must have been very fine liquor being treated that way he didn’t show it, refilling her glass with the same graceful enthusiasm.

“If there is anything you need you just ask Amir,” he said earnestly. Sayeeda cocked her head in the general direction of the departed Xir.

“Do you get alot of that kind of thing?” she asked. Amir made a pwash sound and flicked a hand dismissively.

“No, there are treasure hunters in town, every few year there are rumors that the Treasure of Hutan Shah has been found and the fools go out in their hundreds to look for it.”