"Discovered!"
Foolish.
As Brin reaches the shining white gate of the desert city, he notices his burden emit
a low sigh, and stops dead. Lowering the prone figure of the Lucky Avenue Barkeep to the soft sand that surrounds the outside
of the gateway. Even the most cursory of inspections reveals the grim news. Brin closes the man's eyes.
o 0 ( ...So, the offer of a vehicle would have done little use... )
Little comfort now, as Brin sits over the prone figure.
The realisation that it wasn't his fault, or even responsibility, gives Brin little comfort. He had
gone beyond his place, had confronted that....monster back in the bar. He had seemed like a reasonable
man before. The jovial exterior hides a black, black existence, that Joseph himself doesn't realise
himself. Citan was right, all respect for his order had gone out the window. He mightn't be welcome in
Dazil, and now he had lost his firearm.
Deciding it not wise to go back and report the incident, Brin props the man up against the great entrance arch
of Dazil. Hardly a fitting end for anyone, but there was no choice, it wasn't safe here.
Casting a last look back to the walls and gate of the city, he sets off toward the base.