It was a train job, which truly is a rare treat! The usual subtlety and intrigue of their daily work, but at breakneck speed and the tight iron confines of a hurtling bullet chugging across the nation. Who could be dour in such fantastic circumstances!
“Now you see, the Imperium folks, now they can brew. The short ones,” I nudged my travelling companion with my elbow as I pulled a flask from my vest, “they especially have a gift.” I rattled the container at him invitingly. He shook his head, his face displaying the classic combination of confusion and fear. Ah, the poor common folk. I shrugged, and took a long pull on my imported liquor.[1] I suppressed a burp, in deference to my chance companion. He tried once more to return to the paper he had folded neatly on his lap before I interrupted him.
