Station Time: 0140 hours.

Draver's Tavern was the closest to out of the way that the concourse offered. It wasn't ritzy like the Shatterstar Lounge, it didn't draw in Cizeri with neon glyph signage. It barely announced itself at all. A modest placard over the doorway led into a dim interior where at most twenty people could crowd around a bar or the pair of tables next to the dejarik board. In short, it was an excellent place for someone who just wanted to drink, without the expectation of having to do much else. The small hours of the morning helped make it even more intimate.

Untaaura stared blankly into the bottle of Freeithaahee on the counter next to her drink. It was half full, and she'd done most of the damage to it. The bartender at least knew that it paid to stock Cizeri liquor, and didn't mind someone buying him out of the rest of the bottle on the shelf. The sweet, potent red liquor laced along the edges of her glass where she'd regularly tipped it to her lips. The same red liquor stained the butt of her cigarette. She drew on it until the tip glowed bright, then tidily shaved the ash away on the edge of her ash tray.

She felt numb. Mentally. Emotionally. Numb. Given the day's events, that's exactly what she wanted to feel. The jukebox at the back of the room was playing a song in an alien language she didn't understand, but the mood of it felt completely impactful.

Untaaura could feel the bartender's eyes on her. He was a Rodian, so she supposed that feeling could've been amplified by biology. In any case, he didn't try to force things by starting a conversation. Instead, he tended to cleaning glasses.

She took another drink. With luck, she'd just be able to keep her course, return to her billet and black out. The thought of waiting on sleep in the still of the station's night filled her with dread.