[ Being reliable's one thing, being prompt is another. Lancer's got a good track record at finishing jobs, but it's at his own pace, which means in today's case—clocking in whenever he feels like it. Granted, he's not used to having security detail waiting around, and god only knows what the (heavy) pack he's been saddled with has inside. Not his job to ask. Discretion's a good habit to have in this industry.
Whatever it is, it rattles a bit as he slumps it onto the bar with an overblown sigh. ]
Man— [ He cracks his neck, hardly taking a good glance at his 'partner' before he reaches for a bottle himself, delicately tipping it his way. The bartender owes him one anyway. ] I always thought there'd be more to being a killjoy than being Westerley's top billed packmule, y'know?
[ 'Hello, sorry for being late, excuse me and thank you.' No harm done, at least apparently not to him. ]
no subject
Whatever it is, it rattles a bit as he slumps it onto the bar with an overblown sigh. ]
Man— [ He cracks his neck, hardly taking a good glance at his 'partner' before he reaches for a bottle himself, delicately tipping it his way. The bartender owes him one anyway. ] I always thought there'd be more to being a killjoy than being Westerley's top billed packmule, y'know?
[ 'Hello, sorry for being late, excuse me and thank you.' No harm done, at least apparently not to him. ]