20-04-2025, 07:20 PM
Centro District, Altea, Egelion - January 26, 5636 | 1:51 PM
Gerrit Tzafrir was a rather gullible man; you know, of the type who rushes, can't sit on their ass and constantly shakes or taps their legs, rather annoyingly, most would say. A hardcore half-Jelbic half-Darnussian Yeudi living in Bannerhafen, he was barely impressed by Altea's urban planning and architecture, pretending to look in wonder to please this somewhat frightening, hard, stern woman with a face shrouded in mystery.
On the other hand, BB's Director of Research had immediately taken to Mondragon. Chatting and almost smiling at times? He spent half his time in the car pursing his lip and looking out the window to hide his face.
He would never admit such a thing, but he felt deeply intimidated, now sitting there sipping his whiskey as he exchanged deeply loaded pleasantries with the Foreign Minister of Egelion. A proper Yeudi can recognise the stench of ulterior motives from miles away. This was not about ballistic missiles; a puny thing like military hardware was always a means to an end, wasn't it?
An old-school jukebox, contradicting itself in this bar, sat in the corner pumping out what faintly sounded like an experiment.
Gerrit Tzafrir was a rather gullible man; you know, of the type who rushes, can't sit on their ass and constantly shakes or taps their legs, rather annoyingly, most would say. A hardcore half-Jelbic half-Darnussian Yeudi living in Bannerhafen, he was barely impressed by Altea's urban planning and architecture, pretending to look in wonder to please this somewhat frightening, hard, stern woman with a face shrouded in mystery.
On the other hand, BB's Director of Research had immediately taken to Mondragon. Chatting and almost smiling at times? He spent half his time in the car pursing his lip and looking out the window to hide his face.
He would never admit such a thing, but he felt deeply intimidated, now sitting there sipping his whiskey as he exchanged deeply loaded pleasantries with the Foreign Minister of Egelion. A proper Yeudi can recognise the stench of ulterior motives from miles away. This was not about ballistic missiles; a puny thing like military hardware was always a means to an end, wasn't it?
An old-school jukebox, contradicting itself in this bar, sat in the corner pumping out what faintly sounded like an experiment.
The Banana