...Fine. At a high-end banquet like this, if Yu Lian had been the only one eating like a pig, it might have looked rather uncouth. But with Krell there too, it was no problem.
It was like getting stuck standing at attention as punishment at school: doing it alone was embarrassing, but with two people, somehow you felt a lot more solid.
It had to be said: Krell Belmont was a pretty good guy to have around, personally speaking. His progressive streak was a little too mystical, and he fell from grace far too quickly, constantly hopping back and forth between the working people and the wicked capitalists, but still, he was a decent fellow.
The design of this Hall of Mirrors was rather interesting, though. The chefs at the service counter were busy cooking dishes to order, with smoke billowing and grease flying everywhere, yet the grand hall seemed wide open and unobstructed, and not a hint of cooking fumes reached it. The dignitaries mingling over drinks inside were surrounded by air that remained fresh and fragrant, as if they were in a room full of orchids.
Was it some kind of advanced ventilation system? Or had they gone all-out with extravagant use of psionic technology?
Yu Lian decided the question wasn't particularly important and returned his attention to the roast lamb. He and Krell polished off a leg of lamb with a large bottle of Firestone liquor, the kind favored by tough working men, and six cans of iced cola, the kind favored by the working people's fat couch potatoes.
Only then did Yu Lian feel that he'd recovered a little of his strength and good humor. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and asked, "So, how much longer until the first dreadnought is fully fitted out?"