Across the width and breath of the known universe, and even a good ways beyond, there was a certain list of things you just did not do. For example, you didn't pull on the Federation President's tie. Another good example, was that you do NOT spit on an Ethonian's tattoos. it also certainly went without saying that you never, EVER tried to pull a fast one over on Madam Greer...<br/><br/>Ajax knew these things. he knew them as well as he did how to breath. You didn't survive nearly thirty years as a backwater space trucker, hauling Visiri-knew-what, without knowing the simple intergalactic do's and don'ts... All throughout the 'altercation', he kept his tattered, ex-federation ballcap brim down over his eyes. Couldn't be questions if he never saw nothing. The moment shit had settled, he paid his tab, tipped his hat In respect to Madam Greer in passing, and was just passing through the automated door, when he bumped into a towering, insectoid, or perhaps lizard thing...<br/><br/>For a brief moment, blue eyes went wide as he stared at chitinous purple plates, as hard as durasteel, poorly hidden under several layers of tattered cloaks. The softer, but still bullet proof joints a vibrant yellow in contrast, he noticed, while looking up... And up... Adjusting it's talon toed footing, the thing stared out with angular, sickle shaped, glowing green compound eyes, only a purple, beak like point extending from it's hood... It slowly lifted an enormous, serrated edged, spaser armed, bone crunching pincer... Then snapped it so close to the seasoned truckers face he could FEEL the clack in the air it made... Ajax never stood a chance, as all sense of dignity, decency, and consciousness fled the man... Pissing himself and passing out all at once...<br/><br/>He forgot the last rule of the Universe...<br/><br/>You don't piss off Zerbians...<br/><br/>Looking up from the blackout victim, the alien thing craned it's neck this way and that, taking stock of the room's occupants, before long legs stepped over Ajax, the bladed dorsal spines on it's back rising and falling slowly, as if breathing... Passing the head Madam of the Black Dragons, it offered a cursory nod, not unlike the human before it, then moved to the counter... At nearly seven and a half feet tall, it loomed, then crouched, and curled itself into a surprisingly small ball of chitin and cloaks atop a barstool, and waited... be it for the barkeep, or something else...<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>