May. 1st, 2014

screwedbyfate: (Take another stab at me)
[personal profile] screwedbyfate
[Illium wasn't his favourite place. He much preferred Omega, where everyone was always busy boasting and letting you know exactly what they had in store for you or anyone who crossed them. But to be honest, the clients in Illium paid better. And when bills piled up and the chips were down, Omega wasn't cutting it. Not enough money to be made there. Too much competition.

So here he was, an Elysium boy, drinking in an Illium bar. It was one of the few places that served human alcohol- and even this had a faint dash of ryncol in it. He could taste it at the very edge, and feel it like small, fine glass shards in his stomach. Fuckin' asari bartender. He had said just pure human booze, no alien anything. No turian brandy (that adventure had left him deathly ill for two weeks), nothing krogan, no quarian shit, no asari shit. Was it that hard to ask?

Apparently. Ah, well. He downed the glass, and pulled out a cigarette. He was meeting a client here. He didn't know much about the person other than rich and human, but he didn't care. Rich was the only part of a client that mattered.

And if he showed up on time. That mattered, too.]

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