Kreintan Xianta ale is an odd brew- crafted in machinery made out of god-knows-what ripped from decommissioned research vessels. Those who are brave enough to venture out into the scorching deserts may be lucky enough to find themselves a patch of cacti bearing the pink Xianta fruit. A lengthy fermentation process leads to an almost sickly-sweet lime-colored beverage with an acceptable alcohol content. Unless they are feeling adventurous, one should be careful to remove the seeds prior to fermentation unless they would like to travel to another universe on a wonderful psychedelic journey.

Thankfully, now was not the time for adventure...not yet, at least. Garren slams his glass down in astonishment to look Golt in the eyes.

GARREN: “You WHAT?!”

Vlex wheezes to himself and slaps the table.

GOLT: “Rowe said I should invest in a more hands-on hobby while in recovery...SO I DID!”

GARREN: “IS BUILDING A WMD A HOBBY, GOLT?”

GOLT: “YOU’RE GODDAMN RIGHT IT IS!”

GARREN: “You’re telling me you added a wheelchair ramp to a military grade mechanoid death machine?”

Vlex cackles aloud as this argument continues.

GOLT: “I did, god dammit! And- you know what- I’m going to call it the Mechanoid Death Machine from this point forward.”

GARREN: “WHAT DO YOU NEED THIS FOR, GOLT?”

Rowe interjects.

ROWE: “Busy-work is important during the recovery process.”

GARREN: “You didn’t think at any point that maybe letting him build a Mechanoid Death Machine to cope was perhaps an oversight?”

ROWE: “No.”

Garren leans back in his chair, lightly tossing his hat across the table like a depressed frisbee.

GARREN: “Well, I’ll be damned. Y’all really have been up to some shit on your own time. Vlex got a job, Rowe got a body, and Golt was added to yet more lists.”

Golt chuckles and takes a long sip of his ale while his e-cigar still sits lit in the corner of his mouth.

GOLT: “Yeah, well...nothing I ain’t used to. What about you, Gar, what keeps ya busy?”

GARREN: “Usual downtime shit that’s kept me busy my whole life- Amateur Mwah Radio. Could get lost in that damn thing for hours scanning every frequency I can find. Conversations with all sorts. Nares are a pain in the ass to get shipped out here, though.”

VLEX: “I remember when you and I found Velliar’s personal frequency on accident one day.”

Garren nearly chokes on his drink as he’s hit with a train of nostalgic surprise at the memory resurfacing.

GARREN: “YES! That was before Mwah encryption was anything but shit! I’ll tell ya, it was a lawless land out there on the Mwah Network back then. You couldn’t get nearly the same result nowadays- not without some intense effort.”

ROWE: “...Velliar? You mean that you two prank-called the president?”