Mark and Halla walked through the streets in a hurry. They had lost track of time shopping and were running late for their appointment. They hadn't even had time to drop off their new clothes at the ship. Halla saw "Marshal's" just up the alley and ran inside, followed closely by Mark.
Mark looked around. It didn't look like their client was here yet, so he slipped into an empty booth. Halla threw the backpack containing their clothes down on the bench beside him. "Do you want a drink, at least to keep up appearances?" she asked.
"Yeah, whatever makes me look the toughest." he answered. His avatar couldn't be harmed by it unless someone lit it on fire, and he was pretty sure he could ignore the taste long enough to swallow it.
Halla nodded and, a few minutes later returned with a glass of some black, viscous fluid that looked more like oil then liquor, a gallon of beer, and a roasted goat leg on a platter, slathered in some sort of barbecue sauce. He didn't even have to ask to know that it was flash cooked, blackened on the outside and still raw on the inside.
As she sat down the woman who contacted them walked in the door, turning around for a few seconds to talk to some giant robot or cyborg before looking around for him. Instead of greeting her, he played it cool and swallowed whatever it was Halla had brought him. It took him a few seconds of concentration before his gag reflex was completely suppressed and he could open his eyes again.