O'Brien was an old hand at tending bar, and managed to have the house pretty well set up before the evening crowd started to mosey in. The chairs were off the tables, the jukebox was playing a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YwHrx0r0t2s]jaunty old tune,[/url] and the glassware had just been double-checked before the first few customers started to arrive.

[i]Enter Atlas[/i]

Upon passing into the lounge Atlas would notice, if she chanced to look back at the entrance she had just traversed, a large portrait of the man for whom the establishment was named: Isaac Asimov, an elderly human in old-fashioned clothes with exceptional sideburns.

The bar was manned by a round, middle-aged human sporting a smart vest and a thin mustache, who was presently pouring a beer for a man who looked suspiciously like a vagrant with a top hat made of some shiny material (it may have been aluminum foil) resting squarely at the crown of his head.

The barman looked up, realizing the presence of an unfamiliar face. He gave a jovial wave before calling out to her.

“Welcome to the Asimov, miss! How about a dark and stormy? They're on special this evening.”

His voice carried, but could not properly be called a yell. It was almost like an unusually loud stage whisper. His accent was rather unusual, being difficult to place. One might imagine he was an American attempting to affect an Irish brogue.

[i]Enter Dr. Bradford[/i]

O'Brien pours a beer for the psychiatrist, nodding genially at the fellow. The fella didn't specify which kind of beer he wanted, so he ended up with some kind of wheat beer called Sprachbund.

“This is a good'n. Here for a visit or are you staying awhile, stranger?”

[i]Enter Traz[/i]

As the Jekult sat down the barman smirked. The officer had not been too long aboard Tsiolkovsky, but had quickly become a welcome regular at the Asimov.

“Sure thing, Officer.” he began, picking up a glass and angling it under the tap while pulling the handle with his off-hand.

“I'm just glad you're here for a drink and not to shut me down for the illegal card games I run in the back.”

O'Brien chuckled softly, setting the now-filled glass of whatever-that-stuff-was-anyway in front of the security officer.

“So how fares the thin blue line, Scales? Arrest any hooligans today?”