<The door to the bar swings open gently bringing in the sweet smell of rain and sewage along with an unfamiliar face to these parts. He shakes the water out of his dirty sand colored hair, and wipes the droplets off his trench coat. His faded green eyes wash over the room identifying potential threats. He walks briskly to the bar and removes the trench coat folding it neatly before placing it over an empty stool and taking a seat. His black suit hardly wet from the rain, he loosens his tie and nods toward the barkeep. He checks his watch, an old silver Rolex from a previous century.>
"Tequila"
<He reaches slowly into his inside pocket producing a credstick and slim pocket secretary. He tosses the stick to the barkeep and begins thumbing through the information on the screen. >
