His eyes flickered up, smart and sharp. "Who asks?" His hand idly swirled a crystal Old Fashioned glass, the clear drink languorously swishing before he brought it to his lips and took a sip.

"Reynolds." Mal offered.

The man smiled, showing the crows feet that gathered around his eyes. "Reynolds!" Setting his drink he stood, quickly, un-gracefully. The actions revealed his three piece suit that was in fashion on the Core as he extended a hand and gave a hearty shake. "Been hearing nothing but well about you."

Mal felt an itch of slight trigger readiness. Pushing the desire to skin his pistol out of his mind, he forced a smile. "Well that's... good. If you don't mind I brought one of mine with me, Doc."

Simon winced at the alias, though he did appreciate the caution about giving away his name.

"Oh I understand, tactics and all that." he dismissed "We all have our help do we not? Call me Eddie… As you did."

"Mal."

"Now come, sit down and rest your weary dogs as we order something for your parched lips and sober constitutions." He snapped his fingers, which beckoned another woman, bedecked in another tight dress, over. "Pearl, my dear these boys need a libation."

"Oh no." Mal dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"No, no." Eddie wagged his finger. "I never talk business teetotally. Also I started well before you boys came, so it's only fair for my drunken state that you approach me on a level playing field."

He could see it, Eddie had his wits, but he smelled like the stuff the generals used to swill in their tents and there was a bleariness about him. An at ease and good nature only caused by spirits. "Fine then," Mal nodded tightly, not liking the addition of alcohol to the meeting. "Whiskey, on the rocks."

"Irish, Scotch or Bourbon, Sir?"

"Bourbon?"

"What brand and age, Sir?"

"Uh, whatever your bartender recommends. Rocks."

Simon laced his hands on the table, tilting his head up at their generously proportioned waitress. "Do you have the '82 New Canaan?"

"We do." She smiled.

"Then I'll have that, please."

Pearl smiled again and left.

"Lord, you order like a Core man." Eddie exclaimed.

"I am, from the Core." Simon divulged cautiously.

"I'm from Londinium, Edge Grove. Yourself?"

"Capital City."

"Should have known, Osirans, brandy snobs the lot of them." He said in good nature "I apologize for my ways, I took to the bottle during off base outings, and fell deeper inside its fermented haven when I got myself an artificial liver. The thing's a work of art, you could drink rubbing alcohol and it'd process the stuff like club soda."

"Off base? You served?" Mal said with interest.

"Federal Marine Academy, graduated into Lieutenant. Yourself?"

"Sergeant."

"Branch?"

"Army man."

"Fellow foot soldier! Purple or brown?"

Mal felt an anxiousness creep into his belly. He paused as Pearl had returned and gave them their drinks. "We don't want to go there."

"Come on now, I was a Federation chess piece. That's all we are in war you know?" He took a sip as Simon swirled his brandy and did the same. "They say war is an young man's game, but it's not. It's an old man's game, with the young as the chess pieces. Replaceable pieces on a rapidly changing board."

Eyeing the man, talkative in his inebriation, Mal took a draw of his whiskey.

"I may have to get a second drink in you to hear you say you're as a brown as a buck. Which, by the way, is on all of your warrants." He sniffed, pointing a finger at Mal. It lack malice entirely. "However I'll tell you right now it doesn't wager into this at all, merely curiosity." Eddie shrugged "A fellow your age served one way or another, unlike Button here who was probably too young to sign next to the X." He nodded non-chalantly to Simon.

Simon furrowed his brows at being called Button.

"Or, too wealthy to have to." Eddie tipped his glass to the younger man, who was further irked by the assumption.

Mal smirked.

"So we served, who gives a gorram what side anymore? May we have been on opposing sides, it's common ground nonetheless."

"You still Alliance?" Mal asked, relaxing more into his seat with the bourbon.

"Eeh." His hand teetered to show his lack of commitment. "On paper one in my position has to at least appear so. I was high enough up though to leave knowing everyone rank and file above me was a real yīkuài gǒu shǐ. I find myself floating in the wind, neither here nor there."

"Do you own this place?" Simon asked.

"With a co-owner I do, a side passion really. I moved out here as a partner in a developing a hospital."

"A hospital?" He was caught off guard. Whoever thought the lush before him could handle a hospital deserved something else.

"I have majority shareholdings and title at one of the larger bio-firms on Londinium, so I know my way around the business side. My partner, different partner than this business, who I met a few years back, is a doctor. He used to run a hospital's ethics committee as well as head of surgery so he knows how to handle the other side of things. The government was looking for someone to start up the hospital, old med companies left and right throwing in bids like an old man scattering bird seed. We talked, both having rough years and the restlessness that commands a change and decided what the hell?" He threw up his hands. "Why not? So we get a logo made, papers drawn, win the gorram bid. I packed my bags and here I sit. CEO of Wuhan Community, my partner the Chief of Medicine. Granted it's nothing compared to Old Londi, but I like this new leaf. It's very green."

"So." Mal stared down at his glass, lopsided smile pulling on his lips. "You then have this place, promoting the vices?"

"And at the finest hospital on Highgate, you're able to find a cure for all your overindulgences."

"A contradiction, you are."

"I'd like to think of myself as a man who knows how to have a good time." He extended his arms out grandly "and I want to share this knowledge, let everyone be able to have a good time."

"For the right price."

"Well, good time and good taste do come at a price, Dear Captain." Staring at the Captain's glass he tipped his chin. "Come on now, if you keep at that pace I'll be up on stage with Shannon, stripping to the national anthem, before you're plied enough to talk properly."

TRANSLATION

Yīkuài gǒu shǐ: Piece of shit