Ahh, to relax in your favourite anorak, at your favourite bar, overlooking the docking bay area. Seeing someone creeping about in-uniform chalking the sides of any ships sitting too long on their landing pads. Now there is an accidental landing waiting to happen.
So you sip your favourite concoction in low gee, noticing how the liquid barely stays in its glass. You soak-in the bar's idyllic atmosphere, yes this is nice. A tap on the shoulder brings you back to reality. You see to your left a, er, cripes it's ugly and there's another one standing there as well. Whew! the stench, it's eye watering and it's emanating from these two.
In a strangled Gal4 the first one croaks, "My friend here does not like you."
Not this stupid play again. "I'm sorry.", you reply, not bothering to translate. The feel of a concealed thigh-holster is very comforting right now, under that anorak that folks chortle behind your back about. You pivot on your bar stool to face them. Except for the music the bar has gone very quiet.
The second umm, 'thing', pipes up, "My friend here does not like you.". The first glares at the other briefly before swiveling it body back to you.
Rehearsed line, and not a brain cell between them. Scan the bar, this could be a diversion. Nothing unusual there, except the bar staff have taken cover and a gap has opened up behind these two.
No obvious weapons, but that means nothing. You were so enjoying your drink, still, it is about to make itself useful in an exothermic capacity shortly.
In your best, intimidating Gal4 you rumble slowly, "Which of you wants to die first?"
After tipping back a large mouthful of liquor, you splash the remainder over the second creature before exhaling blindingly over the first wana-be bad ass. Now let's just warm things up a little.
...
