Morgan, like anyone else, couldn’t actually tell if his pupils contracted, but he sure felt like they did when Naleena made one more suggestion to stay on the Audron. He looked at the six foot tall asari and wanted to say something to explain it, or vent, or…he wasn’t sure what.
“Bar,” is the only word that came out of his mouth, however.
Then Morgan strode past, not exactly positive if anyone was following. He neglected to acknowledge the passing crew, except to ask where the exit was for the Audron. Of course, he had a peculiar way of asking, when he found he could only ask in one, very narrow, way that made it seem he wasn’t asking a question at all.
“Bar!”
That didn’t get Morgan a lot of assistance, but he didn’t slow a bit. Fortunately, a few bewildered turians pointed to what they thought he wanted, and that correctly was a way off the ship.
When he exited the docking gangway, the first person he saw was Vayne, large, oddly not as scary as he usually looked with his one eye and scars. Vayne said something vaguely greeting like, or vaguely inquiring like, but Morgan couldn’t process it. So he responded in the way he thought was appropriate, and in the only way he was capable of at that moment.
“Bar!”
Stepping off the Audron and into Omega, Morgan still didn’t slow. Clearing the dock area, the greater part of the station’s interior spread before him. Filling Morgan’s view was the long line and grand entrance for Afterlife. Morgan came to a halt, with a shocked look on his face.
“No!”
The purposed walk continued, through several doors, down into a completely different section of Omega. The corridors were crowded with vendors and people soliciting anything that could be imagined. There was a double door entrance to a club. Inside it was packed, and from outside, Morgan could see several human and asari dancers attracting attention.
“No!”
Morgan kept going. More stores were passed, more people, more corridors, and there was even an air car station. He went past all of them until he was at a nearly forgotten about, dead-end avenue. Down by a dismal series of apartments, a half functioning sign caught Morgan’s attention. Two vorcha were standing outside making some sort of exchange, but after they glanced Morgan’s direction, they ran. Morgan paid no heed. He approached the sign, which would have read ‘Bertrand’s’ if all the letters had been lit, but instead seemed to advertise for an establishment called ‘B-a-d’s’, since that’s what stood out in neon green.
The pub inside looked barely alive. There was a salarian behind the bar with a twitch, and maybe 2-3 miners or cargo handlers in a corner, keeping to themselves. Century old music that sounded like a dead hanar singing played through an audio system that had a distinct, low volume hiss accompanying it. What was once a wall screen with animations was simply frozen now, pink digital boxes and dots in stasis on a violet background.
“Yes.”
Morgan stepped in and ordered from the twitching salarian. “Two shots, scotch, bottom shelf, for me, and a shot for everyone behind me.” The salarian started to serve but before he was done with the last pour, Morgan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’ll be two more shot for me.” When Morgan had grabbed his third and fourth shots, in semi-clean glasses, he took one in each hand and headed to the largest table in the place. It looked barely stable. He kicked out a chair with his foot, sat himself down, kicked his feet up at on the edge, and raised one glass to whoever was around.
“Drink while I’m not broke,” Morgan said to his companions. He then pointed to the bartender and shouted, “Keep ‘em coming!”
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