It’s the MILF. Nearly my height. Red-headed. Great jeans and a tight black t-shirt. Silver rings, none of them on the magic finger.“Excuse me. So ...orry.” She says, with that smiling-but-not-smiling look. You can tell in the eyes.“That’s okay. It’s crowded.”I look back toward the dance floor while the bartender takes her order. Amy’s now in the far back corner of the floor.“You teach?”One of those shouted questions, a volume peculiar to bars. I turn back to the red-head.“No,” I tell her. Nearly. ..” GF muttered, while Amy scowled.“That asshole,” she snarled, her fingers clenching into fists. Her eyes whirred and clicked.“ ... Federal?” GF said.“Yeap.”“I’ll fab a gun,” GF said, cheerfully.“You can’t shoot him!” Lou exclaimed, holding up his hands. “He’s the Colonel Admiral of the entire Federated States Expeditionary Fleet – half the ships that fought in the Bug War were FSN ships! They lost more soldiers in the war than the entire AnCom despite having a population of, what, a tenth as. More

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