“Damn these droids. First they take our jobs and now this one’s in here stinking up our bar. I say we tear off its head and rip out its chips.”
Timpson’s mean enough when he’s sober, which he’s not. Most of these miners couldn’t care less about androids; all they want is to drink up their pay. But it doesn’t take much to get them good and riled.
My hand finds its way to the knife in my boot. Stello may be an android, but he’s my partner and he’s saved my ass more than once. Time to return the favor.