Corliss smiles thinly, gesturing with the Dracon he's still holding like a talisman. "I reckon that fate is left to lesser beings, then, eh?" He puts the weapon away and rubs his eyes.
<When was the last time you slept?>
<On the ship, remember?>
<Guh, I'm beat.>
<Yeah, guess that means I am, too. Can't really tell.>
<Sorry.> Corliss looks up from staring blankly at the bar counter and clears his throat. "Bartender, do you have any tea?"
The bartender just stares at him.
"I'll have a really big cup of black tea, okay? Clean water. No cream."
The bartender wordlessly hands him a hot mug of tea, and Corliss plays with the bag string before taking a small sip.