>Check my backpack, if there is money in it, find a stool further down the bar, if there isn't, figure out a way to check if I have money or something I can charge my meal to.
You pick up your backpack off the ground and give it a good look.
It's holding on surprisingly well, considering you've been carrying it everyday for nearly a decade by now.
The colors have faded a bit, and one of the zippers is missing the pull tab, but otherwise the duracanvas has no rips in it, the padding is holding on shape and is comfortable, and the liquid proofing holds tight.
Best flea market purchase ever... okay, maybe just as good as that blender.
You touch the front pocket's seal, letting it verify your fingerprint. You then pull out a credstick and close it again.
On a second thought, you also move a couple seats towards the center of the bar, leaving just one barstool empty between you and the chatty pair. Hopefully that will be an obvious enough hint for the barkeep.
- I firstly look at me and what I'm wearing.
- I look around the bar for any other noteworthy details and other people.
- I check the contents of my backpack.
- I try to discern what genre of music is playing.
- I take a look at the other patron.
- I take a look at the barman.
- Then I take a look at any menu near me.
- I quietly eavesdrop on their conversation, keeping my visual focus on the menu.
(Also how're you running inventory in this game? The backpack? )
You twitch, feeling the caffeine rush kicking in.
A couple of seconds later, you once again find yourself completely unable to sit in place quietly.
Your eyes start to dart around, from one momentary distraction to another.
You wonder if maybe it wasn't so great of an idea to wear business casual for the flight.
You try to estimate how many bottles are on the shelves behind the bar, but can't stop yourself from guessing "five thousand" while there're only three rows of maybe a couple dozen each.
You twitch an ear when the unmistakable tones of a Hammond organ join the soundscape next to the guitars.
Then you wonder if this place ever got crowded, or did you just doubled the previous top amount of simultaneous customers.
Driven by a sudden worry, you put thumb on your backpack's reader, then open it and make sure your data unit, headset and spare clothes are in the main compartment.
Just before re-sealing you remember you have stashed your credstick together with the flight pass into the front pocket in a hurry, and retrieve them from among the clutter.
A sudden movement catches your attention - one of the segments of bar's countertop changed backlight color from white to blue, disturbing the previous half/half balance.
You shoot a glance at the bartender, who just finished pouring a stein of purple fizzy... something for the other customer, and resumed chatting with him.
At a transit node like here it is obviously useful for a bartender to know languages - but it sure was impressive to see a Chrikt like him make all the screeches and gurgles of the Hsian patron's native language without mandibles... you wish you'd understand what he was saying.
After your heart rate slowly returns to double digits again, you swear you'll never touch Cetian espresso again... just like you did every other week.
... And of course now you're hungry.
You reach for the menu, make sure it's still switched to filter by the right species, and tab over to foods.
Hm... looks like your choices are limited to steak tartare from fresh K'tchara meat, or a salad from the local planet's sea plants.
This makes you realize you actually don't know the name of this waterworld
(You have pockets, you have the backpack, you may have other things to haul stuff in... Also, happy barfday! )
Dang didn't realize this was a thing, it's not too late right?
♫ It's not too late, it's never too late ♫