Nov had entered the bar not too long ago and claimed a seat at the front counter, apparently unopposed in this sense as the other patrons made themselves at home in other sections of the establishment aptly called Debris for plenty of obvious reasons. The bar itself had literally been built into the backstage of someplace early humans called the Broadway Theater. An odd place for an establishment to be, well...Established. However no one was arguing this fact which in the end proved good all around for everyone, especially for someone like himself.
Normally, Nov would arrive occasionally much chipper and lively sometimes before and after shift but today, he had been contemplating crew re-assignments to different areas of the city and the bordering outer limits of the city yet to be absorbed by the quickly growing civilization. There was that and the new recruits joining into the force's ranks, mostly from off planet and very unfamiliar with the re-built city. The thought of being partnered up with a rookie or being assigned to other areas didn't bother him at all. What did though was all the meetings that came included with the mass re-organization of the force. Nov honestly would have rather been patrolling the streets than attend a long, almost drawn-out discussion. He felt they were not absolutely necessary and recalled some being more of a social gathering. Then again, he had a different outlook on things and only saw a few good reason for a written report if anything.
While sliding through the holographic rosters and assignment routes on his PDA, Nov couldn't help be listen on to the new conversation that had developed outside of his immediate attention and had nearly made him jumped once his cognitive sensors finally picked up the localized dialogue. He turned his head slightly and allowed his own neural HUD to highlight the chat's participants. There was Karson, the barkeep or Two-Four as he went by and two other figures; one clad in armor and decorative fur whilst the other glowing vibrantly of soft flowing energy. He didn't believe he recognized either of them. Nov mentally compiled a quick check over their identities through the city's inhabitant's database but in the end it wouldn't matter too much about who they were...Unless they were wanted or had a bounty on their head; he'd hate to be the catalyst of that ruckus waiting to happen, especially not here.
The topic quickly illustrated itself into the deconstruction of the Gargon v Celsi conflict, something Nov had figured to be way behind the date of his own birth or his nearly year long recovery after being, literally, blown up. At least two of the participants seemed to know the details quite well, though he was unsure if Two-Four was on the same page or not. Nov bet on his tip as unlikely. With several more hours before he was back on call, he placed the PDA flat on the counter and finally bothered to pick up the glass of scotch he ordered around that time he first sat down.
"Sounds like the most extreme if not overblown case of domestic violence I've ever heard of..." Nov openly commented from his position at the bar's counter, no longer retaining his neutrality in the discussion and now fully committed. His face remained partially fixated on the scotch-filled shot glass before him, seemingly intrigued of the residual alcohol sliding down within walls of the glass he gently twirled with his prosthetic fingers. "...Dare I ask what the dispute was initially about? Before...Err, Gar-whats-his-face's brother had been murdered?"
Normally, Nov would arrive occasionally much chipper and lively sometimes before and after shift but today, he had been contemplating crew re-assignments to different areas of the city and the bordering outer limits of the city yet to be absorbed by the quickly growing civilization. There was that and the new recruits joining into the force's ranks, mostly from off planet and very unfamiliar with the re-built city. The thought of being partnered up with a rookie or being assigned to other areas didn't bother him at all. What did though was all the meetings that came included with the mass re-organization of the force. Nov honestly would have rather been patrolling the streets than attend a long, almost drawn-out discussion. He felt they were not absolutely necessary and recalled some being more of a social gathering. Then again, he had a different outlook on things and only saw a few good reason for a written report if anything.
While sliding through the holographic rosters and assignment routes on his PDA, Nov couldn't help be listen on to the new conversation that had developed outside of his immediate attention and had nearly made him jumped once his cognitive sensors finally picked up the localized dialogue. He turned his head slightly and allowed his own neural HUD to highlight the chat's participants. There was Karson, the barkeep or Two-Four as he went by and two other figures; one clad in armor and decorative fur whilst the other glowing vibrantly of soft flowing energy. He didn't believe he recognized either of them. Nov mentally compiled a quick check over their identities through the city's inhabitant's database but in the end it wouldn't matter too much about who they were...Unless they were wanted or had a bounty on their head; he'd hate to be the catalyst of that ruckus waiting to happen, especially not here.
The topic quickly illustrated itself into the deconstruction of the Gargon v Celsi conflict, something Nov had figured to be way behind the date of his own birth or his nearly year long recovery after being, literally, blown up. At least two of the participants seemed to know the details quite well, though he was unsure if Two-Four was on the same page or not. Nov bet on his tip as unlikely. With several more hours before he was back on call, he placed the PDA flat on the counter and finally bothered to pick up the glass of scotch he ordered around that time he first sat down.
"Sounds like the most extreme if not overblown case of domestic violence I've ever heard of..." Nov openly commented from his position at the bar's counter, no longer retaining his neutrality in the discussion and now fully committed. His face remained partially fixated on the scotch-filled shot glass before him, seemingly intrigued of the residual alcohol sliding down within walls of the glass he gently twirled with his prosthetic fingers. "...Dare I ask what the dispute was initially about? Before...Err, Gar-whats-his-face's brother had been murdered?"
