Michael returned to the meeting and picked up his drink.

"Sorry about that. Someone that I worked with before.  Looking for a job."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:45, Fri 15 July 2016.

In reply to Melissa Messervy (msg # 55):

McClan perked up visibly at Melissa's mention of skinny dipping, and nearly fell off his chair at "dinner". Only the presence of three presumably well skilled male mercenaries also in the room appeared to stop him leaping the desk and having his way with her there and then.
"Well, ah," he stammered, poorly hiding his discomfort and frustration with another gulp of the bourbon.
"I'd like ta, but wouldn't wanna exclude these fine gentlemen."

Karl picked up the bottle and kindly refilled McClan's glass for him before "rescuing" him from the surprisingly predatory advances of Melissa.
"So you were 'bout to tell us 'bout your latest "adventure". Was it anything to do with that mess on the train over in Europe last week?"

"Nah, we don' go fer tha' sor' of fugazi, long range secret squirrel shit. Nah, we're all 'bout the fast an' hard. Go in an' get 'er done quick an' don' worry 'bout the mess."
"Did a little job up in Maine not long ago like that. Quick little snatch an' grab for a corporate shyster's spoilt rich client."

"Snatch and grab?" Melissa said, secretly glad McClan wasn't going to take her up on dinner - she had no intention of letting it go any further, "Person or object?"

"Person. A real hottie," he responded, his slurring indicating the alcohol was really starting to kick in.

Eric kinda smirks.

Wasn't that singer chick up in new england was it? Some infatuated kid  with more money than sense. Bet he was middle eastern.

"Woodna know, he slurred taking another belt of the bourbon.
"Smith never who was payin' th' bill an' I wazna askin."
He spun lazily around in his chair to look out of the window again.
"Yer know wha' I like 'bout Cuba?"

Booze and warm weather that makes women wear less?

He spun back around and grinned.
"Yeah, an no fuckin' emm pee's!"

Chuckles

Was that what you were thinking or something else?

Melissa looked confused.

"MPs? What have Members of Parliament got to do with it... at any rate, I know there's a former government minister hiding out here at the moment".

Then she realised and subtly tried to move the conversation back.

"Whose this Smith fellow? Seems like an operator with some interesting connections - and possibly dodgy ones at that... as in the sort that could lead you on a trip to Camp Black Bag".

Smiles and shakes his head at Brits sipping his rum.

Karl silently topped McClan's glass off again. It seemed he was a talkative drunk, and hey, they weren't paying the tab!

"Jason Lewis Smith. Shitbag at law," he drawled.
"Do anythin' fer a price."
He laughed as only the truly drunk can, before continuing and draining the glass once more.
"Jus' like me."

Melissa watched George get increasingly drunk and increasingly talkative. If the man was some form of lawyer - and they had just gotten his full name to boot - then he should be easily locatable with a quick internet search.

"Interesting", she said, letting him dig his own grave. They were getting close to done here, but best to get what they could

Karl topped up the glass again, nearly spilling some on the table. He'd tried to limit his consumption, but in order to maintain a decent illusion of keeping up had still managed to get a bit more than a light buzz happening. If this lasted much longer he'd be in need of assistance to get out of the chair, let alone out of the building!

Smiling.

So Mr. McClan, do you have any work for us? Or should we enjoy the beachs for a day or two while you look at what you might have for us?

"Yeah, work", he slurred before pawing awkwardly at some files on his desk in at attempt to locate one particular sheet of paper.
"Ah fuck it," he says giving up the fruitless search.
"Go fin' yerselves some LBFM an' come back tomorra."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:52, Thu 11 Aug 2016.

"Soun' like a plan," Karl responded as he unsteadily climbed up the chair to his feet, reached out and poured the last of the bottle into McClan's glass.
"Awrigh' you s'dgurglers! Les go have moro!"

"I like the way you think, Mr McClan.  And thank you for the drinks."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 00:05, Sat 13 Aug 2016.

Melissa got to her feet. She had no idea what George was suggesting that they get, but the fact it had the letter F in the acronym suggesting she probably didn't want to know.

"We shall do that. See you tomorrow", she said politely.

The group exits the building without incident, although Karl does need assistance placing one foot in front of the other, and heads back to what passes for your hotel to plan the next step.
This message was last updated by the GM at 08:11, Thu 25 Aug 2016.

Melissa made her way to her room, where she removed her pant suit and changed into a more casual outfit of a white camisole and cut-off shorts, then to cool off, poured some cold water over her head.

Her hair still damp, she made her way down to the bar.

Little unsteady on his feet Eric follows the others out, a lot more steady by the time they make it back to the hotel. He tried to not keep up with the others drinking.

Changing he joins the others in the bar and orders some food.