Ming enters the bar, figuring that it will be one of the most likely places for a ship captain to spend his or her off hours.  She knows she may not have much time, there was no sign of pursuit yet, but they would come.  There may even be spies in the bar already, but that was a chance she would have to take, she didn't know where else to look except on the ship docks themselves.<br/><br/>They would be expecting that.<br/><br/>She scanned the crowd, one hand clutching her bag tight, careful of thieves, the other deceptively loose at her side.  Her ragged military surplus pants tied with a length of rope and her somewhat stained plain grey shirt might keep anyone from bothering to try and steal from her, but then again, it might not.<br/><br/>Ming took a few moments and found a likely one: a captain discussing with some guy about payment for mercenary services.  That meant he would have some protection for his ship, and most likely would welcome some extra platinum to cover his expenses.  Not to mention he could clearly use the gun in his jacket.  She took a seat nearby, but not too near, and ordered a drink, something very light, she had to keep her focus, then sipped at it, pulling her databook from her bag.  Not even someone watching carefully could see the pistol just inside, or the disassembled sniper rifle under several layers of cheap secondhand clothes.  She kept the bag in her lap, as she typed in a few planned out phrases to show when the captain was finished with his business.