An unusually chilly mist hangs over the port city of Minas Barrbossa. I say unusually chilly because most mornings it has already become hot and sticky by the third hour of the watch. Still, most don't take notice of the cooler temps and precede about their daily routines of fishmongery and the hawking of their exotic wares. We have a saying around Minas Barrbossa...can't bring it to mind just now though. I've been having this issue since my run-in with 'Kippers and Bosch' last month. I'll learn to wear head gear of some sort one day.
Oh, hello there by the way. My name is Sgt. Ian MacBrooke, retired from so many services. This little ghetto cafe' I'm currently sitting outside of is Maddy's Trinket Box, home of many 'expatriated' warmongers from across the galaxy. Not quite officially our establishment, but more home than others and most of us are quite willing to wreck interlopers threatening the 'old girl' from outside. My loft is the one on the left on the fourth story. All the rooms for let have balconies, so you can't really judge by that. Nice little French hostelry with a sporting man's tatty decor inside. Maddy, of Trinket Box fame, passed from our ken a number of years ago and her daughter Lily took over the running of our home.
The shipyard, wherein is the greatest congregation of business outside the Min-Barr Square, is where I'm off to this chilly morning to check on the state of my 'boat' and the current cache of supplies...