"Snakes in the sleeping quarters," he said. "I'll remember that one." He took a sip and set the glass down, turning it once on the counter. He appreciated the distinction more than he let on. A lot of people in Ress's line of work did not bother making one, and the ones who did were usually either very principled or very smart about long term survival. He was willing to believe Ress was both.

He pushed back from the counter just enough to signal he was wrapping up rather than leaving in a hurry, the way you did when you had somewhere else to be but were not in a rush to get there. "Good drink, good conversation, and a bartender who doesn't bite," he said, reaching into his jacket for a few strips of latinum and setting them on the counter without making a production of it. "I'll be back. Probably sooner than is strictly responsible."

Ress gave a genuine smile at that, leaning slightly over the counter as they looked at him, one henna-marked hand reaching for the strips. They counted them with a neat flick of their fingers, then took one and offered it back to him, holding his eyes for a beat longer than necessary. "First one was on the house...same crew, after all," they said, their mouth curving. "Unless you want it to stay behind the bar in case the next assignment goes poorly. Some people like credit. Some people like insurance."

Cormus looked at the strip for a moment, then took it back and tucked it into his jacket without argument.

"I'll take the latinum," he said. "If the next assignment goes poorly enough that I need a bar tab waiting for me, I've got bigger problems than paying for drinks." He stood up from the stool and straightened his jacket, rolling his sleeve back down out of habit. "But I appreciate the thought."

He picked up his glass and finished the last half swallow standing, the way he did most things when he was ready to move, and set it down one final time with a quiet click. He looked at Ress for a moment with the easy, open assessment of someone who had just decided they liked a person and was not bothered about them knowing it. "Same crew," he agreed, and pushed the stool back in neatly before heading for the door, hands in his pockets, already thinking about whatever was waiting for him in the shuttlebay.

Ress watched him go, head tilted slightly to one side until the doors closed behind him, then reached for the empty glass he had left behind. They turned it once in their hand, catching the smudged fingerprints and the faint mark where his mouth had been, ordinary traces from a man who had already become a little less unknown. A small chuckle left them, soft and private. "Good," they breathed, before setting the glass aside to be washed.