15 minutes to midnight.

Public comms console on a quiet bar, Penirgman...

"Dammit, Spotty, whaddaya mean is revoked?! Just gettyship ready and I be there in a jiffy"
"Expired, out of date, of no further use, you'll just have to send off the payment and get it renewed."
"Can't be esquired I's pays the damn thingy only a while back, check it again I wanna to go fly about, bloody Amarrians, you'd think they liek me off their shupid stations waymaystandinfis"
"Arth, you're slurring, have you been on the whiskey again?"
"Shush Snotty, jus' open the doors and i'll be moseying along, real quietly liek."
"'fraid there's nae I can do, wi' out a valid pilots licence, you're gonna have to find some work and get it activated again."
"Damn these hooded hooligans! Wash the hell I'm s'posey do round here anyways. Their wishy's pishy assy swimming!"
"Uhm, can you stop banging the comms and shouting I don't think I understood any of that."
"I says, their damn whiskey's as pishy as their women!! Hasn't you been paying attenshun!"
"Oh right of course. Well listen you'll need to get some work, Arth. I'll be over to join you for a few shortly when my shift's up and we'll see what we can come up with."
"Arright then, Sporty, come help me get rid of some of thist before it spreads an en's'up in other decent bars."
Comms close abruptly on a bemused docking manager.
"'scuse me"
"Same again, Sir?"
Arth hands over the empty glass with a twinkle in his eye.
"Well since you're offering... And no more ice this time the last cubes are in danger of melting soon. I'll take one of them cigars too please"
"Don't forget, no smoking now in all public areas of the station."
"Sure I'll just go stand out the back fecking door then. Got a brolly handy?"
"And no smoking in the mens room again either."
"Well they should have a window in there I could open, I mean who's going to be looking in? Universe's most deicated pervert hanging on outside with a snorkel and googles or something."
"I don't think a snorkel would help them much."
"I do so love your Amarr sense of humour."
"I just pour the drinks and earn my isk."
"Well I'm glad they ain't keeping you here for your looks anyways. Here, same again in there and pour us another one for Shorty, he'll be along scottly."

Several bars, beers, and short hop hitchhiking later...
Alentene. A quiet apartment, early. Several empty spirits bottles lie abandoned accross the floor. A collection of empty beer bottles line the counters in the small kitchen area, while another ten are scattered in a corner of the room around a small melon. Various smoking materials are strewn accross a small coffee table around a chess board. Some pieces remain on the board atop shot glasses of brown liquid; probably alcoholic. A king with a half smoked spliff sits in check upon a throne of whiskey. Mickey opens his eyes and stares at the clock on the wall in front of him. When did it get turned upside down? He closes his eyes again and groans as pain starts to seep into conciousness. He shakes his head to try and clear away the fuzziness inside and instead slides onto the floor with a thump.
"Fucking hell!"
He holds his head in his hands and realises that he was lying upside down on the sofa. Eyes screwed shut he takes a deep breath and attempts to sit up.
"Jaysus Christ! Holy Mary!"
A shower of stale beer, a bottle, 2 pawns and a bishop provoke this bout of new found religion. He puts both hands on the coffee table and gets his feet under him. Holding position while he thinks of his next move he studies the chessboard intently. Tipping the king from it's perch he straightens up with the spliff in one hand and shot glass in the other. With deliberate slowness he lights the spliff and takes a deep draw. Without breathing out yet he raises the shot glass to himself in the mirror and tips it to his lips. The alarm clock on the kitchen counter erupts with sudden fury. Startled Mickey steadies himself for a second before tipping the whiskey into his mouth. A bedraggled figure jumps up from behind the sofa.
"Fecking Jaysus bleeding hell!"
Arth gets sparyed with whiskey for his prompt awakening. He blinks and regards Mickey with some suspicion.
"How'd I get here?"
Mickey stops choking and takes a breath.
"Fecking hell, Arth! You scared the crap outta me, I didn't even know you where behind there."
"I was bloody sleeping, wasn't I? How do you turn this racket off?"
"Don't batter the bloody clock, give it 'ere. See."
"Well I dunno I never had alarm clocks. Whats the bloody alarm set for anyways."
"Uhm, dunno."
"Here, it's flipping 7am, are you mental."
"Take. Smoke. I'll get kettle on."
"Ahhhahoo, god. And str-ech. I'll roll us another then."
"Nice one. Here want some melon for breakfast?"
"Sure."
Arth studies the chessboard while he careful rolls a smoke. He takes the mug of coffee and lights up. After a few draws Arth passes the spliff to Mick and go's over to the sink. Pouring half the coffee out, he returns and settles slowly into the sofa before removing chess pieces and adding their guarded liquids to his mug. Mick nods slowly in slient approval before slicing up the retrieved melon. The comlink comes to life.
"Bastards. Who the feck would that be?"
"Hope it's not the wife." Yawns Mickey as he heads for the hallway. A couple of moments later he returns grinning. "It was your early morning wake up call."
"My what?!"
"It gets better." Mick continues with glee. "You asked for it to reming you to go to work today!"
"I what?!"
"And you start at 8!" Mickey giggles uncontrollably. "You'd best get a move on, you got 30 minutes!"
"Where the hell am I working?"
"The staff canteen down at Gainsbury's megamarket. Somehow you've managed to talk yourself in as the catering manager during the last few days drinking."
"Fucking hell back to cooking I go then. I'm gonna jump in the shower, call me a taxi."
"You're a taxi"
"Thanks" Arth tips back his mug of coffee as he rises from the sofa, suddenly sitting back down as his faces turns purple with a bout of whiskey induced choking.

Arth woke at 5am. A month in and he was getting used to these early starts he reckoned. He'd arrive at work by 7 today, nice to be early and get a few things sorted out for an easier day. An extra hour or 2 in the evening would help things go smooth and stress free. She'd always told him to chill out and relax. This time round he wasn't going to let anything get to him. A nice 5 day week and no work at weekends, he could settle into this well. Staff weren't too bad either, granted the usual selection of retards and losers but mainly decent people and even a few good looking girls. He recognised a few from a while back in other places and other jobs where paths had crossed. Ironing his whites before leaving his mind worked overtime thinking about what recipies could be used today and what items where availible to be used. A glance at the clock. 25 minutes to 7. A brisk walk would see him there in 20. He breezed in with a confident stride. Little Cherith by the fruit and veg. He'd be down for some reduced price items shortly. Anything that was wanted was just a matter of a few whispered promises and a bit of flirting and 95% was taken off the price. Ash over by the meats, good lad. A free dinner offered and some choice cuts would make their way to the kitchen. First stop, blondie by the tobacco counter.
"Hi, Chef"
All pearly teeth and smiling blue eyes. His mind wandered back to another for a second, as if it ever forgot.
"Hi! Tobacco, papers, matches, please."
"Sure. You're looking very fresh this morning. No partying last night?"
"None at all, and it's when I'm feeling fresh you need worry."
More teeth and eyes. He lifted his weeks smoking supply.
"See you shortly for breakfast."
Yeah, he thought. 2 slices of brown toast at 9.45. A mug of coffee, decaf, no sugar, semi-skimmed milk. A lot of good that breakfast would do anyone for a days work, probably watching her figure, he'd have to keep a close eye on it as well. Breakfast was standard, same stuff to fry up every morning, cereals and bits and pieces as well. It'd be ready by 9 and over at 10.30, ideas for lunch were still floating around his head 2 choices were wanted but usually he came up with 3 or 4 anyways to give a better choice. Last Friday he'd been a bit hungover and had been starting things and forgetting them and ended up with 8 different dishes. All done up by 12.30 and that was it, serve to 2 and then clear up. Easy as pie. Maybe do a pie today then he said to no-one in particular. And a nice bit of pasta in tomato sauce. Keep things simple for a Friday. He'd use her sauce recipie. She'd taught him about purity and passion. In the early hours of one morning they'd had pasta and sauce. For the restaurants he used to have a dozen or more ingredients for a tomato sauce. Now he used 3. Pure, simple and flavoured with passion. A big spoonful of butter, a couple of tins of good quality chopped tomatoes and an onion, peeled and quartered. Into the pot went the butter, tomatoes and the 4 wedges of onion and that was it. Spot of salt and pepper. Bring it up to the boil and then let it bubble gently for a bit. His kitchen assistant looked on as he put the lid on.
"How long do you bubble it for then?"
Another fine figure to watch. Only about 19 or so and wearing skimpy jeans and t-shirts. How was he supposed to get any work done at all if they sent workers like this to help? Still, best builders bum ever he supposed. At least she had sense and worked well.
"How long till we have the first bastards arriving?"
She checked the clock.
"About 15 minutes, it's quarter past 12 already."
"Bubble it for about 15 minutes. Right I'm going for a smoke before they want fed."
Well she wouldn't be about much longer just covering a couple of weeks holidays for the usual assistant. The foreign one that had decided he was in the mafia since he got almost all the food for nothing. All tits and tail and tan, but just not quite attractive. Real nice woman though. Very pleasant. And married.
Two bells, time to clear up. Only one person left in the canteen, young girl from the office. Sitting reading the daily paper, long dark hair falling down over her shoulder. She'd been down fairly late for lunch, must have been busy. Went for the pasta.He'd made some banoffee for desserts. Got some nice organic bananas cheap the day before. Arth leaned in the kitchen doorway and considered. Walked over to the chiller and lifted a couple of banoffee's out. He approached the table with a slow, confident stroll.
"Thought you might like a little dessert since I have a few over."
She glanced up.
"I don't usually have desserts." Looking longingly at the sweet treat on the table beside her. Arth continued undetered.
"Well it's just so sinfully delicious it seems like a good way to start the weekend."
"Oh go on then."
She lifted a spoon. Arth allowed himself a little smile. Break a girl's rules about dessert, and there are no rules.
"You know, it's bad for the soul to eat alone. Mind if join you."
"Not at all, please do."
Arth sat accross the table from her.
"I loved your pasta. How do you make your tomato sauce?"
"Thanks. It's just onion, tomatoes and butter."
"That's it?! No garlic or wine or anything? How'd you get that real nice flavour from it?"
"Well," He said looking around cautiously and leaning in closer. She moved in as if to conspire with him the secret. He whispered softly in her ear making her lean even closer to hear.
"Passion and purity."
He was sure she shivered slightly with anticipation.
"Tell me about passion and purity then."
She sat back again smiling, and little colour had definately come to her cheeks.
"First you need to know about how different things go together so well."
He offered her a small spoonful of banoffee.
"Like bananas and sticky toffee."
He slowly extracted a clean spoon from her smile. Arth smiled again too. Yup, he thought, there are no rules. But that's another story.