Roan was not a man for mediocrity.  Especially not when it came to his booze.  A very fine liquor was something to be savoured, to be enjoyed.  A cheap rotgut was something to shave the edge off of your day.  And his day had been pretty jagged and sharp before coming here.  Now it was worn gleefully smooth.  He could feel the door opening.  It wasn't so much a change in illumination, it was more of the shifting of the air pressure.  There was a small part of him that had to fight off the instinct to draw and verify that there were no threats.  Old habits and instincts died hard.  But the rotgut helped.  He heard the heavy steps of someone who was annoyed.  Someone who was putting some effort into the irritation, but really didn't have the mass to make a heavy tread really count, and as it was coming closer to him he had quite a good idea of who he was about to be dealing with.<br/><br/>And he was right.  An irate doctor with a tie to the captain and slightly puffed opinion of herself.  She did good work.  Roan could respect that.  Could find her a good medic and a fine enough person to travel with.  But he'd seen too much mud slogging ground wars to really connect with someone who hadn't.  And she was sure as hell not a knuckle-dragging foot slogger like himself and the captain.  She started to speak, the edge in her voice showing that she was properly irritated.  Sarcasm.  The main language out here in the rim.<br/>"Or he had the utmost of faith in his shipmate to be able to perform a simple enough task like shopping for goods, and opted to let her take care of it.  She's ever so talented you see.  So her I sit to make myself in proper state to deal with the captain who still frets on about his ship."  He said calmly.  Oh, he'd been drinking a good amount to be sure, but there was still a steady level of purpose to every move that he made as he stood up.  The bartender came by and set a large bottle on the bar top before him.  Roan nodded his thanks, and peeld off a credit note, tossing it onto the bar.  The tender took it with a nod and smile.<br/><br/>Roan started for the door, knowing that the doc wasn't about to pass up the chance to berate him as they head back.  Hawk was out with the mule, and that left the rest of them walking.  One of these days he was going to have to learn how to fly a damned shuttle.  Make things a lot easier.  Or the doc should.  Then Roan could still have a few drinks and not worry about wrecking the shuttle on landing.  That would be a bad thing he surmised.  The walk back was about what he'd expected, a long string of bickering and barbs being tossed back and forth, with Roan keeping back his more infuriating and aggravating comments, since he wasn't exactly eager to push the doc far enough to have her clout him in the head.  He wasn't sure whether he'd stay up.  Head shots were funny things when you'd been drinking.  The ugly side of the ship loomed up into view, with the skillfully painted symbol of the Oaty Bars on the side.  Damned kids had some skills, and a lot of good materials and ambition.  Captain would likely shoot 'em if he ever found out who exactly had done the work.<br/>"Home sweet home, eh there doc?"  He drawled as tey started up the ramp to get inside.