It's slower than Elcor on sedatives as it were and Lantar was just keeping himself busy polishing the already spotless countertop to a perfect mirror shine out of sheer boredom. All the glassware were clean, all the (two) customers had their drinks, all the stock lists were done, he's dusted and front faced the shelves to the point of ridiculousness- and he's gotten every high score he could get on every game on his Omni-tool to boot.

He's on his knees, trying to get the angle with the lighting right so that he could see where the next bit of dust was about to land when Eliot comes in. The meek excusing, garners a bemused look. The damp hairstyle garners another- and then he's squinting up at the guy as he keeps talking.

"Eliot, you've worked here for a fucking year."

...

Wait.

What?

You can just about hear the mental record scratch there as Lantar abruptly backtracks through his words and stares up at the human he's never seen before in his life. Except he has seen him. He has seen Eliot Waugh before.

He'd hired the man.