The World Assembly Strangers' Bar

[The Ring Line Hansa]

*Sets up tradepost in Bar*

Anyone need some Guns? Or Filters? Or knifes?

Wait what year is it?

[Skylus]

CHEEKI

Lauren was sitting at the table, still looking over the book when she thought she heard a familiar voice.
She lifted her head from the book and looked over at the person selling guns.
"....Ven?"

[The Ring Line Hansa]

CHEEKI

Lauren was sitting at the table, still looking over the book when she thought she heard a familiar voice.
She lifted her head from the book and looked over at the person selling guns.
"....Ven?"

"Hello, Do you need any Weapons? Supplies- Oh. It is you."

"Surprising, No? Almost 1,500 Years, a Zombicide, and a Nuclear genocide appers to be unable to make Deam man rest in peace."

"Oh! What became of my glorious Empire! Soviet France, Fell to the false empire of the Necrotics! What remained was a Slum of Rednecks who did not accept Technology! And then! As if our nation could not be more destroyed, We fell victim to the Nuclear war. And once again our shattered land was further Shattered. Now, a Metro System is all that have left to my Land."

[Araraukar]

OOC: Cheeki, I think this is the fourth time in total that I'm telling you that the Global Economics and Trade forum exists for all trading needs. The Bar thread certainly isn't for that.

[Draconae]

Marcus Valorus starts. He's been in the bar for quite some time, but he seemed to have dozed off a bit. He woke up to just the end of:

Valorus gets up, puts his coffee cup on the bar, and walks over to the Ambassador from Glaeschland, sticking out his hand for a handshake. "Johnathan, right? I'm Ambassador Valorus, from Draconae."

"Greetings, Valorus." Jonathan smiles and shakes his hand, his ARP taking a small step back to get out of the way.

"Oh, and did someone ask for a drink?"

"That was not me." Valorus turned toward the ARP. "Anyway ... is this a gun? If it is, why was it designed with legs if it needs to hold its barrel steady while it fires?"

[The Ring Line Hansa]

OOC: Cheeki, I think this is the fourth time in total that I'm telling you that the Global Economics and Trade forum exists for all trading needs. The Bar thread certainly isn't for that.

Be wary naught Comrade!
Ok ok I is be of hear you I need not to be thrown out window again!
I is sorry! It would seem as if non wish to buy wares for thy stock exchange!
Remember those days when I sold best technology in world? Ha! Those day have left thou sun.

[Essu Beti]

"Our civilization is not yet advanced of complicated enough to need marriages as such, though most Tikrr pair up monogamously, until the death of one or both of them," Atikitir explained. "The male in such a pair is called "preferred mate". Unattached adult males in a Roost are always ones that have joined the Roost from another, and they often become close friends with certain females, who will then defend them from other females' aggression if a bad fight should break out. Such close male friends are called Roostmates. Ikiti and I have a third Tikilikrr with us here in the alien world, he is Roostmate to both of us - our preferred mates have remained on our homeworld, and should either of them happen to die, Kistiri would have very high probability on becoming the preferred mate for whichever of us lost their mate, during the next breeding season."

Iksana only had as much shame as was convenient at any given moment, so he didn't actually mind this chat about preferred mates and weird not-marriage customs and breeding seasons. "Eh, you should probably look into marriage. It keeps things nice and tidy and all that stuff. No need for women to fight, and it builds ties between families. The Gayan family- that's mine- has stable alliances with three others because of marriage agreements, and if my sister-in-law remarries we'll be adding a fourth to the network. Do Roosts form alliances?"

OOC: Cheeki, I think this is the fourth time in total that I'm telling you that the Global Economics and Trade forum exists for all trading needs. The Bar thread certainly isn't for that.

Be wary naught Comrade!
Ok ok I is be of hear you I need not to be thrown out window again!
I is sorry! It would seem as if non wish to buy wares for thy stock exchange!
Remember those days when I sold best technology in world? Ha! Those day have left thou sun.

((OOC: Why are you responding IC to OOC statements?))

[The Atlae Isles]

George yawned. There were so many things he had missed.

He ordered a beer and asked what he had missed in the last month he was on vacation.

[Glaeschland]

"Greetings, Valorus." Jonathan smiles and shakes his hand, his ARP taking a small step back to get out of the way.

"Oh, and did someone ask for a drink?"

"That was not me." Valorus turned toward the ARP. "Anyway ... is this a gun? If it is, why was it designed with legs if it needs to hold its barrel steady while it fires?"

The ARP chirps as Valorus acknowledges it. "It's a railgun. Ambulatory Railgun Platform. It can easily hold its aim steady. It was made as such to seem more humanoid and be able to cross over more terrain with ease. I would demonstrate, but...heh." Jonathan refers to the weapon nullifier.

[Covenstone]

Albertine wanders into the bar and looks around. Seeing that her date is not yet arrived, she ambles over to the bar and sits down.

"Two milk-shakes please. One lemon, one..... oh what is her favourite?" She pauses, thinking what Tara likes, then smiles, "oh yes. One snozzberry please."

[Calladan]

"Mmmmmmmmmmm. Snozzberries"

[Uan aa Boa]

Slightly nervously, the Comrade Ambassador takes a seat at the end of the bar. She is keen to understand all the workings of the Assembly to which she has newly been assigned, but it seems quiet here. She takes out her notes and orders coffee, black and bitter as the deeds that must be done before the day is out.

[The Atlae Isles]

"Mmmmmmmmmmm. Snozzberries"

George grimaces, but turns his attention back to his phone, reading the activity he had missed.

[Vragoltinus]

Viderlich Von Vragin Veizatohn walks into the bar in a very formal manner before instantly sitting down in the booth he sat at previously. Not saying a word the whole time. He appears very shaken, quickly pulls out a flask and takes a few shaky sips from it, his eyes darting at everyone in the bar as if expecting someone to pull out some kind of weapon.

[Sierra Lyricalia]

The bar's door opens again and in walks a figure straight out of a Western. Broad-brimmed dark brown hat, brown leather duster, black cowboy boots complete with spurs. His dark red bolo tie swings slightly from the blood crimson oval at his neck, dangling between the lapels of his black suit jacket. On one shoulder is an honest-to-god saddlebag; slung over the other, and stabilized by his left hand, is a double-barrelled shotgun with a handsome wooden stock. He doesn't cut a particularly odd figure here in the extremely multicultural bar, but as he walks further in and Steph sees him, she bursts out laughing.

"Leo, what in the gods' green earth are you wearing??? I knew you were going back to the Republic for a few days, but this is ridiculous! Please don't tell me they've disinvented the automobile!"

Leo gets an exaggeratedly dignified expression on his face before responding.

"Madam Ambassador, you know full well that on a fact-finding mission such as the one I undertook, one must be prepared to range outside of the urban comfort zones favored by-" He scowls slightly and clams up as Steph breaks in.

"Come on, you old coot! It's not about where you go, it's about what you put on to get there! You putting on that... That..." She looks, and points, up and down at him a few times, chuckling some more. "...friggin' Hallowseve costume just to go up a mountain is like me putting on a twentieth-century NACA pressure suit for an orbital launch! There's just better ways to do things now - even in the Republic." Steph shakes her head and laughs again.

"Well, madam, if you'd prefer I can just take this jug for myself-" Steph is on her feet in an instant. "Not a chance in hell! Is a gentleman of your stature seriously going back on an agreed deal?" She maintains eye contact with Leo, but one can hear the eye-rolls in her tone of voice.

"Absolutely not, you foul hair-painted trollop!" Steph looks away, afraid she'll crack up again if she doesn't. "I did my part, pulled in a favor, and have brought you back the single best small-town bourbon in the entire Republic. If you show yourself incapable of appreciating it, well, I won't be the one to watch you waste such a work of art as is in this humble clay vessel." Leo glares at Steph for a few moments before she finally relents.

"I'm sorry I made fun of your cos... uhh... your clothes," she finally manages, quietly indeed.

Leo beams, genuinely as far as Steph can tell. "Think nothing of it, Madam Ambassador. Now," he says as he drapes the saddlebag over a nearby chair, "from deep in the backwoods of the Caintuckie Mountains," he continues, rooting around in the bag with his free right hand, "comes the single finest bourbon whiskey in all the land. The gentlemen who produce this elixir are odd by Republic standards, though I daresay you would adore their company." THUD goes the half-gallon clay jug onto the tabletop. It's a dull brown without any adornment. Leo pushes the jug toward Steph and gestures at her to open it up while he continues ponitificating.

"They're pretty much a religious commune - they use the word 'monastery' in their advertising, of course - run almost like a Lyrical syndicate would be. Deep in the Caintuckie DMZ, obviously - their allegiance is to the Republic, but I do hear a good dose of Lyrical fire in their business talk. Good folks, and damn good whiskey."

Leo shakes his head for a moment and turns aside to look at the incredibly distracting person in the nearby booth.

Viderlich Von Vragin Veizatohn walks into the bar in a very formal manner before instantly sitting down in the booth he sat at previously. Not saying a word the whole time. He appears very shaken, quickly pulls out a flask and takes a few shaky sips from it, his eyes darting at everyone in the bar as if expecting someone to pull out some kind of weapon.

"Sir," Leo begins, "You are quite honestly the shiftiest person I've yet seen in this establishment-" Before he can finish, Steph jumps in. "Sure, and you've been here all of five months? Two of which you weren't technically here here. But please, keep telling other people how annoying they are, that's totally the right move for an accredited diplomat." She's got the jug open now, and takes a whiff instead of continuing to talk. Her face is the very picture of anticipation.

Leo sighs and continues. "Put another way, sir, you look as though you robbed a bank and are unsure whether you'll see your accomplice or the law burst through the door first. Would you like something to calm your nerves?" He takes the shotgun off his shoulder and leans it gently against the chair, with the strap slung loosely over the back to keep it steady. He asks the bartender for three clean glasses and returns, clapping them on the table.

Leo looks over the tops of his glasses at Veizatohn. "One cannot go through life so jittery, sir. I beg you, have a drink with us. Whatever's in yon flask appears not to be doing the job - perhaps this will?"

[Draconae]

"That was not me." Valorus turned toward the ARP. "Anyway ... is this a gun? If it is, why was it designed with legs if it needs to hold its barrel steady while it fires?"

The ARP chirps as Valorus acknowledges it. "It's a railgun. Ambulatory Railgun Platform. It can easily hold its aim steady. It was made as such to seem more humanoid and be able to cross over more terrain with ease. I would demonstrate, but...heh." Jonathan refers to the weapon nullifier.

"Okay. I guess you have better and smaller motors and programs than we have in our nation. Plus, we also have railguns, but they are not small enough to include on anything smaller than a battleship."

Slightly nervously, the Comrade Ambassador takes a seat at the end of the bar. She is keen to understand all the workings of the Assembly to which she has newly been assigned, but it seems quiet here. She takes out her notes and orders coffee, black and bitter as the deeds that must be done before the day is out.

Spying another ambassador, Valorus motions her over.

[Vragoltinus]

Leo looks over the tops of his glasses at Veizatohn. "One cannot go through life so jittery, sir. I beg you, have a drink with us. Whatever's in yon flask appears not to be doing the job - perhaps this will?"

Staring at the man for a good awkward minute, Viderlich sips from his flask another time before going over and sitting with the man.

"Understand... This morning a bomb implanted in my office went off... If I did not stop to talk with one of my guards, I could've been sitting at my desk when it happened. We have found the man and had him executed after he didn't talk for a good few hours. I do not know how he could've possibly got the explosive into my office... But we are currently working on tripling defences and background checks on every person for ANY job position..."

Now speaking with the man he seems to have slightly calmed down from how he was acting earlier.

"It is also why I have fifty guards currently in this bar, and outside."

Looking around Leo could now notice fifty black suited and hooded men scattered around the bar with folded arms staring at everyone. As if preparing for even the slightest hostile reaction towards Viderlich

[Wallenburg]

Now speaking with the man he seems to have slightly calmed down from how he was acting earlier.

"It is also why I have fifty guards currently in this bar, and outside."

Looking around Leo could now notice fifty black suited and hooded men scattered around the bar with folded arms staring at everyone. As if preparing for even the slightest hostile reaction towards Viderlich

Gerald overhears this and responds, "Ambassador, I'm sure your bodyguards would appreciate the adjacent poker room while you have your drink. The Weapons Nullifiers in here will keep you from suffering any serious harm at the hands of any of us."

"Poker room?" asks Kelvin.

"There is a poker room over there, next to the Secretariat lounge. The bodyguards tend to have a lot of fun with its flashy lights and lots of buttons."

"Ah, I see," Kelvin says. "So what kind of drinks do they have here?"

"Actually, they have everything," answers Helen. "Just make sure they get you something Wallenburgian, or they will probably give you alcohol poisoning."

"Everything? Wow. Well, let's see. Barman, can I get a Hansteinian Colvert beer? Regular."

"Something from West Wallenburg?" asks Helen, with some suspicion.

"Hey, I don't like the West either, but damn do they make some good beer. If I can get it here where it isn't subject to tariffs, I'm going to indulge myself."

[Vragoltinus]

Now speaking with the man he seems to have slightly calmed down from how he was acting earlier.

"It is also why I have fifty guards currently in this bar, and outside."

Looking around Leo could now notice fifty black suited and hooded men scattered around the bar with folded arms staring at everyone. As if preparing for even the slightest hostile reaction towards Viderlich

Gerald overhears this and responds, "Ambassador, I'm sure your bodyguards would appreciate the adjacent poker room while you have your drink. The Weapons Nullifiers in here will keep you from suffering any serious harm at the hands of any of us."

"Poker room?" asks Kelvin.

"There is a poker room over there, next to the Secretariat lounge. The bodyguards tend to have a lot of fun with its flashy lights and lots of buttons."

"Ah, I see," Kelvin says. "So what kind of drinks do they have here?"

"Actually, they have everything," answers Helen. "Just make sure they get you something Wallenburgian, or they will probably give you alcohol poisoning."

"Everything? Wow. Well, let's see. Barman, can I get a Hansteinian Colvert beer? Regular."

"Something from West Wallenburg?" asks Helen, with some suspicion.

"Hey, I don't like the West either, but damn do they make some good beer. If I can get it here where it isn't subject to tariffs, I'm going to indulge myself."

"Hmmm... If my guards are not helpful inside I shall have them patrol the outside of the bar with the rest. They are not on break so I see no need to send them to the poker room either..."

Viderlich barks out the word "DRAUßEN!". All the guards near instantly nod and walk in profile out of the bar. (Please correct me if I said the wrong word for outside in German please.)

[Essu Beti]

Slightly nervously, the Comrade Ambassador takes a seat at the end of the bar. She is keen to understand all the workings of the Assembly to which she has newly been assigned, but it seems quiet here. She takes out her notes and orders coffee, black and bitter as the deeds that must be done before the day is out.

Iksana takes a break from talking to the giant bat to go find someone else to harass. Someone working alone, drinking coffee, and clearly not keen to be disturbed seemed like a good pick. Approaching the Comrade Ambassador, he says, "Working on top secret things in the middle of a public bar, are we? Not the smartest thing in the world." He cranes his head to peer at the notes, curious.

[Sierra Lyricalia]

Leo looks over the tops of his glasses at Veizatohn. "One cannot go through life so jittery, sir. I beg you, have a drink with us. Whatever's in yon flask appears not to be doing the job - perhaps this will?"

Staring at the man for a good awkward minute, Viderlich sips from his flask another time before going over and sitting with the man.

"Understand... This morning a bomb implanted in my office went off... If I did not stop to talk with one of my guards, I could've been sitting at my desk when it happened. We have found the man and had him executed after he didn't talk for a good few hours. I do not know how he could've possibly got the explosive into my office... But we are currently working on tripling defences and background checks on every person for ANY job position..."

Now speaking with the man he seems to have slightly calmed down from how he was acting earlier.

"It is also why I have fifty guards currently in this bar, and outside."

Looking around Leo could now notice fifty black suited and hooded men scattered around the bar with folded arms staring at everyone. As if preparing for even the slightest hostile reaction towards Viderlich

Gerald overhears this and responds, "Ambassador, I'm sure your bodyguards would appreciate the adjacent poker room while you have your drink. The Weapons Nullifiers in here will keep you from suffering any serious harm at the hands of any of us."

"Poker room?" asks Kelvin.

"There is a poker room over there, next to the Secretariat lounge. The bodyguards tend to have a lot of fun with its flashy lights and lots of buttons."

"Ah, I see," Kelvin says. "So what kind of drinks do they have here?"

"Actually, they have everything," answers Helen. "Just make sure they get you something Wallenburgian, or they will probably give you alcohol poisoning."

"Everything? Wow. Well, let's see. Barman, can I get a Hansteinian Colvert beer? Regular."

"Something from West Wallenburg?" asks Helen, with some suspicion.

"Hey, I don't like the West either, but damn do they make some good beer. If I can get it here where it isn't subject to tariffs, I'm going to indulge myself."

"Hmmm... If my guards are not helpful inside I shall have them patrol the outside of the bar with the rest. They are not on break so I see no need to send them to the poker room either..."

Viderlich barks out the word "DRAUßEN!". All the guards near instantly nod and walk in profile out of the bar. (Please correct me if I said the wrong word for outside in German please.)

Leo looks aghast as the sheer number of Vragoltianese security personnel becomes apparent with their exit from the bar. He jumps to his feet mid-pour; Steph, concentrating on keeping the glass and the jug from tipping over and spilling their precious contents, can only watch as Leo grabs the shotgun from where he had leaned it against the chair. He shoulders the weapon and points it at a random bar patron who appears to be dressed in the same nondescript fashion as most of the guards.

"Damn you, sir! This establishment is for paying customers with diplomatic status only! Withdraw forthwith, you reject from the Subtle Factory!"

Steph is able to rise and put herself next to Leo during this little soliloquy; as he squeezes the double triggers, she manages to whack the gun barrel up, sending the shot high over the head of the guy who is not a bodyguard. The weapons nullifier overhead hums zaps the shot into nine or ten gorgeous blue-and-black butterflies. The fluttering bugs scatter, several of them alighting on the wood panel abutting the overhead rack of wine glasses.

"Hey! Earth to Leo! Just because you can't actually shoot anyone doesn't mean there's no consequences for trying! Please cut it out. If you're too loose a cannon, the Secretary might find himself in the position of having to dismiss you. And we wouldn't want that, no sir." The sarcasm in Steph's tone is not even slightly masked. "Also, 'Subtle Factory?' Really? Because you waltzin' in here lookin' like you just got shitcanned from filming 'For a Fistful of Benjamins' is some finessed, nuanced kinda shit? Who in the hell do you think you are?" She pauses for a moment. "Just finish pouring the whiskey, will ya? And then go apologize and buy that guy a drink. Or give him yours, maybe. You owe him at least that much; and listen-" Steph jabs a finger in Leo's face, about an inch from his nose. "This is the last time I babysit one of your little faux pas's - next time you're on your own, buddy."

She firmly separates the shotgun from Leo, slings it over her shoulder, and wanders over to the bar. Leo grumbles under his breath and shakes his head, side-eyeing Steph as he pours. Steph orders five shot glasses of mixed fruit juice and leaves one on the bartop, a couple on nearby empty tables, and keeps one for her own table. Perhaps eventually the butterflies will smell food and come investigate. She slings the shotgun over the back of her chair before sitting back down.

"So, Ambassador," she says, finally addressing Veizatohn, "How do you know the guy you executed was actually the one who planted the bomb if he didn't talk? Shouldn't your police have let him stew for a while, see if he'd turn in his comrades in exchange for leniency? If you ask me..." She lowers her voice significantly, "your police are just as much involved as the insurgents, if that's how they 'investigate' things."

Steph picks up her glass and raises her voice, perhaps a little louder than necessary. "If you ask me, this is some damn fine bourbon! What do they like to drink in your country, Ambassador? Personally, I like-" She cuts herself off as she notices one of the other patrons over Veizatohn's shoulder. "Please excuse me one second. Helen!" Steph waves over at Trevanyika, Gerald, and the dude with them. "I didn't even see ya come in! Pull up a chair and have a drink! Of some non-poisonous kind! The more the merrier, huh? It's been for-damned-ever." She turns back to Veizatohn. "Sorry about that. You were saying?"

[Whovian Tardisia]

Steph is able to rise and put herself next to Leo during this little soliloquy; as he squeezes the double triggers, she manages to whack the gun barrel up, sending the shot high over the head of the guy who is not a bodyguard. The weapons nullifier overhead hums zaps the shot into nine or ten gorgeous blue-and-black butterflies. The fluttering bugs scatter, several of them alighting on the wood panel abutting the overhead rack of wine glasses.

Ambassador Pink hears the shot behind him, and instinctively ducks. The newly formed butterflies fly past his head, spare one, which decides to land on his knuckle. After a moment of recovery, Pink slowly turns to face his potential assailant. He stifles a giggle when he sees Leo's outfit. "I would rather not be shot at when attempting to enjoy a drink. Do be more careful with your firearms."

[Imperium Anglorum]

Wellesley walks into the Stranger's Bar. Recalling a note from the new Prime Minister, she goes over to Parsons' lantern and lights it, igniting a flame that illuminates quite a large amount of space. Thinking to herself, 'that's a lot brighter than usual', she sits down and orders a cup of tea and a copy of the Times.

It seemed clear that Parsons was playing some sort of game. Probably something to do with the new Queen. Her father had taken care of her years ago, but appointment to this post was certainly surprising.

So surprising that Anderson Holmes, the former PM just roundly beaten by Parsons in the April leadership challenge, cited this appointment as showing Parsons' clear inability to run a government: a Home Office junior minister appointed to a post that Holmes was probably eyeing for himself, and in peacetime, would almost certainly have got. A WA posting was supposed to be for senior members of the government, preferably with past judicial experience. Certainly, the difference between her experience and the last occupant's experience was ... staggering. One led a charmed life, was a Law Lord, Duke, Lord High Chancellor, etc. etc. etc.. The other was just an junior MP from East Anglia.

Reading the Times, it was clear the press coverage was going to be negative. Beyond the war and its grim stories making for endless human interest stories, reputable newspapers were now printing innuendo about how horrified the Duchess of Geneva had to be and launching 'investigations' into possible affairs by the PM. A quarter of the country demanded her resignation. About half the country was outraged over that quarter's blatant sexism. And the last quarter had bullets to dodge.

One of the officials walked over with a copy of the Times, while a waiter came with a cup of tea. The official asked, 'Ms Wellesley, you know we have a private dining hall?' She responded, 'It's the PM's is it not?'; 'It's yours now.'; 'Perhaps I'll go later. I do have to meet people.'

[Giant Bats]

Steph is able to rise and put herself next to Leo during this little soliloquy; as he squeezes the double triggers, she manages to whack the gun barrel up, sending the shot high over the head of the guy who is not a bodyguard. The weapons nullifier overhead hums zaps the shot into nine or ten gorgeous blue-and-black butterflies. The fluttering bugs scatter, several of them alighting on the wood panel abutting the overhead rack of wine glasses.

Though automatic reflexes protected the Tikrr's hearing, Atikitir still wasn't very pleased with the Lyriclian, as the after-effect of that reflex left her partially deaf for a while on those frequences that the noise from the gun affected her. She wasn't able to use her sonic attack without the weapons nullifiers interfering, so it grated on her nerves that others were allowed to deafen her, even if only temporarily.

The spines on her back rising as a response to her anger, and with her jaws open for the use of the more powerful hunting sonar, Atikitir stalked towards the Lyricalian - male, as she noticed due to the returning echoes, which only annoyed her further - who had used the weapon.

"You, creature," she said when she arrived at the table, "Leo," she added as the cybernetic circuitry replayed the last few things that had been said, separating the name from the rest of the sentence. "Do you not know that weapons do not work here? Why would you even try to use one? And have you no respect for the hearing of your fellow sapients, even those with inferior hearing like yourself?"

The actual wording she used in her own language, was much less calm and much less polite, but the AI that did the translating for her, was smart enough to realize that in this case translating insults was not in the best interests of anyone involved.

[Sierra Lyricalia]

Though automatic reflexes protected the Tikrr's hearing, Atikitir still wasn't very pleased with the Lyriclian, as the after-effect of that reflex left her partially deaf for a while on those frequences that the noise from the gun affected her. She wasn't able to use her sonic attack without the weapons nullifiers interfering, so it grated on her nerves that others were allowed to deafen her, even if only temporarily.

The spines on her back rising as a response to her anger, and with her jaws open for the use of the more powerful hunting sonar, Atikitir stalked towards the Lyricalian - male, as she noticed due to the returning echoes, which only annoyed her further - who had used the weapon.

"You, creature," she said when she arrived at the table, "Leo," she added as the cybernetic circuitry replayed the last few things that had been said, separating the name from the rest of the sentence. "Do you not know that weapons do not work here? Why would you even try to use one? And have you no respect for the hearing of your fellow sapients, even those with inferior hearing like yourself?"

The actual wording she used in her own language, was much less calm and much less polite, but the AI that did the translating for her, was smart enough to realize that in this case translating insults was not in the best interests of anyone involved.

Leo stares into the being's maw, blanching slightly at the sight of his? her? extremely sharp teeth; lack of obviously useful eyes; and the very faint scent of raw meat still on the creature's breath. He takes a deep breath and removes his wide-brimmed hat entirely.

"I do apologize​ for the offense to your estimable aural prowess - uh, esteemed ambassador. I have no good excuse, only a plea for understanding. Have you never seen - or heard, I suppose - an overwhelming need to intimidate someone or something that had no business being in your sphere of personal space? To train them, as it were, to keep out of your sight? Or hearing? I am very sorry to have dazzled your senses - I only intended to frighten the underlings into giving the diplomats our rightful space and privacy. I certainly did not intend to harm or annoy any fellow speaker."

Steph looks over and cuts in, "Basically, he's an asshole, but an honest asshole. If you wish to file a complaint with the House of Diplomats or even the Ombudsmen, I'm happy to give you the necessary information."

She glares at Leo. "Wouldn't be the first time. Doubt it'll be the last. Hey, don't look at me like that - you're the one who can't control his itchy trigger finger. We weren't in a nullifiers zone, you'da been guilty of murder."

Leo sighs. "Were we outside that zone, I hardly would have thought it wise to fire a weapon at someone. I thought that there would be no harm done." He turns back toward the giant, nightmarish predator - ambassador, he reminds himself.

"Since I was clearly wrong on that score, may I buy you a drink? I have an exquisite small-batch bourbon whiskey here, or I'm sure the barkeep has some nice fresh animal blood if that's more your style..."

He trails off, somewhat lamely.