Salem nodded at Keshin. A 'case-by-case basis' was the best he'd been hoping for at this point anyway. He turned and smiled at Simon.
"No interruption. Name's Salem," he said, holding out a hand. "I'm a bit of a trader. If you like, you can take a look at what I have to offer," he said, patting the briefcase-like case that was now sitting in his lap." He laughed when Simon mentioned a "British guy." He wasn't entirely clear on what the term meant, but so far he'd only ever heard it applied to Corliss. "That guy's a waste of your time, if you ask me," he said. "He's a lot more trouble than he's worth."
Al laughed, "Not my Terenia. Don't try to shove her off on me. Like he said," he nodded towards Mar, "the rebels seem to think they've got some kind of claim to her."
He glanced at Mar, amused. "Is that authoritative clothing?"
He picked up his glass and raised it in Zorish's direction. "You're persistent, but really, if this person's not around, you won't make them show up any faster by waiting harder." He took a sip, shuddered visibly, and set the glass back down, "This bar's a great place for people-watching, though. So many people from so far away, and every single one of them seems to have a story to tell. Heck, even if you don't like good stories, there might be useful things to learn in the mix somewhere."