Old Friends, New Enemies

[Bette Davis]

Flight Commander Bette Davis of the Imperial Navy, on leave from her duties on board the ISD II Termagant as a member of Shadow Squadron, looked down at her first shot of the evening. A ridiculous bright green, it seemed to glow as it sat there on the bar of Cloud 9.

She narrowed her eyes at the fruity looking concotion, and asked the 'tender, "What did you say this was again? It looks.. girly."

The bartender, a strapping young humanoid with huge muscles and an easy grin on his nearly-human face, shook his head. "Its something I made up myself, called an Afterburn. Have to guard the recipe, I'm afraid. But trust me," and there was that grin again, "Its not girly."

Bette gave him a look that clearly said that any drink that was bright green was most certainly going to be girly, then shrugged. "What the hell." She scooped up the shotglass and poured the concoction down her throat.

As she set the glass down firmly on the bar, the initial taste of the shot was indeed fruity. And then....

Bette coughed, caught off guard by the intense burning sensation that followed the liquid down her throat, reaching gratefully for the beer that the bartender had poured as a chaser. Eyes watering for a moment, she blinked, and then grinned. "Hey, I'll have another."

[Kelly Perris]

Commander Kelly Perris of Rogue Squadron hadn't seen downtime in months. New pilots, training, plus handling his own sqaudron was quite the mantle to bear, but he had stepped up, and appeared to be doing quite well. Excelling, even. He was in a bit of demand sometimes when it came to the training. Lately, it had been a tad monotonous, and monotony can be frustrating. There was a bit of a lull in the conflict arena, and his thirst for action - a standard amongst flight jocks - drove down his sanity a little when it wasn't satisfied. Good thing he was up for leave, or Kelly would have started really taking it out on the other jocks in the boxing ring.

In any case, Kelly just wanted to get away from base, and mingle with some normal folk. And there's all sorts of folk around Bespin's Cloud City...not to mention a pretty handy bar and grill for a nice, hard drink. Maybe a few pretty ladies, too. Force only knows he could use the conversation, at least. That is why he finds himself this evening at Cloud 9 Bar & Grill, commandeering a stool and leaning hard into the bartop.

"Hey 'tender...gimme a shot. Somethin' good, will ya? And thanks, man."

Upon request, the bartender eyed him up real good, and poured something obnoxiously green, and hit the bartop with it, sliding him a Corellian Ale as well. It looked like the refined slime of some radioactive alien, and quite...girly, at that. Kelly returned the eying up right back at the 'tender, as if to question his sanity.

"Trust me, guy. It isn't what it looks like." The bartender shot. Kelly quirked a brow, shrugged, and downed the shot in one fluid throwback motion. It didn't take long for the violently green concoction to burn all the way down the inside of his neck, illiciting a dry cough, and a quick hand reaching for the ale to chase it down and hopefully hydrate the pilot's razed throat.

"What the frack was that??" Kelly grinned, looking quite satisfied. "Tell you what, I'll take another."

"Afterburn, kid." The bartender looked rather pleased with himself, as he poured another. "Here ya go."

[Bette Davis]

After the third Afterburn and chaser Bette had to excuse herself to the restroom. It was always a chore to decide which refresher door to choose in these transgalactic waystations. On Imperial ships and bases, the 'freshers came in two flavors. Male stick figure, or female stick figure. Of course, picture icons were not used in the modern Navy, though someone had scrawled a figure in a dress with a generously ample bosom on the door to the females' head in the pilot's barracks.

To be honest, she was also used to having to share with the boys, as most older ships had no accomodations for female officers at all. However, here in Cloud City it was another story all together, with options for females, males, tentacles, and mysterious third genders. In the end she just picked the blurry little picture icon that looked most like a human and shoved her way inside.

After relieving some of the tension in her bladder, Bette returned to the bar to find someone else choking down a vivid green shot. The little suckers had quite a punch to them, and after resting for a few minutes she was beginning to feel the effects of the alchohol. Hopping up onto her stool she was pleased to find the 'tender had already poured a fourth Afterburn, and reached for it at once.

Except that the shotglass was partially between her and the other person at the bar doing shots, and they grabbed it at the same time. After a brief moment of confusion, Bette relinquished the drink with a laugh and an apology, and looked up to see a familiar face.

"P - Perris? Seven hells, it is you!" Warmed by her drinks, Bette's face lit up in a huge grin, and she practically tackled the taller man as he tried not to spill his shot. "What the frell happened to you? After Alderaan the rumor was you'd been remanded to the psych ward."

She released him and thumped him heartily on the back. "Stars, I never thought I'd see you again."

[Kelly Perris]

"Oof!" The shorter woman thudded into Perris with enough force to almost knock the wind outta him. Kelly grinned widely and somewhat goofily, hiding his shock at being tackled by what was now his enemy, and practically bearhugged Bette, being more than happy to see the sweet lil' thang regardless. The volume of alcohol consumed thus far was making him feel at least a little warm. He had felt his third shot splash a small drop onto his finger, and again when she thumped him on the back. Kelly licked those up, eyeing her all the while.

"Psych ward - right, Davis." He sized her up, and got a rather sly grin on his face, as he checked her out. "Damn, you still look quite fine yourself, woman. You still moisturizing your innards with screech?"

Kelly chuckled. She had no idea about him, and he'd like to see how long he could keep it that way. Alcohol had a funny way of dealing with things.

[Bette Davis]

She sat back on her stool, resisting the urge to thump him again and make sure he was real. Lieutenant Kelly Perris had been her wing leader when she'd been assigned to Shadow Squadron almost six years ago, and in the short time they'd known each other they'd really gotten to know each other. One of those situations of a ship having no separate accomodations for female pilots, and she'd lost the majority of her inhibitions on Carida anyway.

"The stronger the better, I always say," she retorted, and the bartender obliged her with another shot of Afterburn and a refill on her amber ale. She clinked her shot against Kelly's, and the two of them downed the drinks in unison.

Eyes watering, she gulped at the beer, and coughed. "Frell, this dren is strong!" Clad in tight black pants and a blue tank top that was certainly not Imperial regulation, she leaned back in towards Kelly. "Things weren't the same after you left, y'know."

[Kelly Perris]

He nodded, taking a few hearty gulps from his fresh glass of ale, still sporting a wrinkled nose and squinted eyes from the last ingested shot. Things definitely were different. Every day, things were different. The ball just keeps rolling, the slave-driving never stops. His weary mind would sigh of its own accord if it could.

"I can agree with that. This 'tender sure knew what he was doing mixing something this decieving."

Kelly leaned closer to Bette, after she leaned into him. He thumbed her chin, smiling bemusedly. His cheeks were a little warm from the drink. That didn't make any difference in the blatant fact that she still looked edible. That definitely wasn't the drink talking.

"Not havin' you 'round sure makes a guy left wanting. Not to mention you almost sound like you missed me."

Perris was remembering the countless nights when he first came to Rogue Squadron that he sure wished he could be hasslin' her day in and day out. Banishing that thought, he cut quick to a somewhat idle question.

"How's Grisham? I remember that prat. Is he still the same brown-nosed slacker?"

[Bette Davis]

His touch on her chin made her bare her teeth in a smile. "Miss you? Me? Hardly." But she winked as she said it, before rolling her eyes at the mention of Shadow Leader.

"Oh gods, don't get me started on him. Thought he'd of been transferred up and out by now, especially after DS2," one of the many slang terms for the Battle of Endor, "But he's still around. Still the same. Guess its good for me - he keeps the brass happy and off my back most of the time."

Bette grinned at her last comment, adding, "I still have a little problem with authority... you may remember it from when I was just a wee Ensign and you were trying to boss me around."

[Kelly Perris]

Kelly laughed. Oh, did he ever remember it.

"You were quite the fresh lil' sass. I see at least that hasn't changed. Good thing too. I've always had it in for that spunk you cart around so freely."

Perris motioned the 'tender for another drink, telling him something more like a whiskey. He liked inconsistency when it came to his beverage lineup.

"I bet, at least by now, that they've got even a troublemaker like you in some position of authority. You were always a good flight, and a wicked shot. That's the least I can say about anybody who was watchin' me kick up the dust."

How egotistical. Jocks tended to be like that. Even more so the less sober they became. He had to take care to not get too hammed, or else he just might let something slip. That would be a perfect rip in his not-so-sane bit of fun for the evening.

[Bette Davis]

"Lieutenant Commander," she grinned, "Got my Flight Commander status just before Endor. Guess they were getting desperate for capable help."

Bette turned to her beer, drinking it down to about half full. "We've been going through pilots lately. Too many skirmishes with the Rebels, and either the cream of the crop is rotten or the Rebels are getting better." She grimaced into her glass, "I'm not sure which is worse."

[Kelly Perris]

Kelly looked down into the whiskey glass. He knew the Rebel pilots were always getting better. To be honest, he'd suffered very little loss of pilots, and the same seemed to go for other squadrons within the rebel fleet. As for the other side of the coin, he had nothing he could say about that. It wasn't his place anymore. It hadn't been for six years. Those six years alone were a testament to both himself and the old friend that sat beside him. It counted for something. They were both doing something right, in the battle of sides that each believe the other was doing something wrong. He would have stayed for her sake, actually having carried some form of care for Bette, but the loss of every member of his family had shattered him completely. It wasn't until the past year that he had really shown true recovery. That didn't mean Perris would ever forget.

"Could be anything." He said quietly, omitting the truth, and breaking the momentary silence. "This life is too unpredictable. But I think I like it that way." At that, he smiled. "We never became pilots to sleep in a bed of monotony...Just like the adrenaline rush far, far too much. It's an addiction."

[Bette Davis]

"I'll drink to that," Bette said, tipping her glass back and emptying her beer. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, she flipped her black hair out of her face and grinned. "But enough serious talk! Too much talkin' gets in the way of the drinkin'!"

She slapped a palm on the bar, her hand stinging a little from the force she used, and ordered up a couple shots of a strong, clear alcohol. The bartender poured the drinks promptly, and she slid one over to Kelly. "To old friends."

Bette lifted her shot and clinked it against his.

[Kelly Perris]

"Old friends!" He agreed, their shotglasses tinking together before they threw back the shots. The liquid flew down his gob, and into the stomach.

"Tha's jus' like ya, babe. Ya don't take it slow. Fast n' strong, like always."

Kelly watched her, a grin forming on his face at what he'd just said. Mayhaps it was filled at least partly with innuendo. It was at that point, and anyone that knew him could always tell - his speech didn't slur - that he began to talk like some farmboy on and off, and no one, not even him could say where that came from, except that the alcohol caused it.

[Bette Davis]

She snorted at his comment, recovering in time to gesture for another beer. "Oh, don' try to turn that backwater charm on me, Mr. Perris." Bette grinned up at him, "You'd be tryin' too hard."

Fresh beer in hand, she swiveled around on her stool and put her elbows on the bar behind her. Tilting her head towards Kelly, she said, "Funny coincidence, meetin' up with you like this." After a sip of her drink Bette added, "I really never thought I'd see you again."

The slightly wistful tone in her voice indicated that the thought had troubled her for some time.

[Kelly Perris]

He scoffed.

"Backwater? I'll remind you, missy, that I am no backwater child. Funny seein' you here. Never thought i'd see you again, either. Not in a million years."

He figured by now he'd have blown her outta the speckled black. Kelly knew that in almost every confrontation side against side, he'd been the one chasing her down, and vice versa. They were both the cream of the crop, always on top. Even if at least one of them had drank a little too much the 'night' before.

"I never planned on coming back. Alderaan just hurt too damn much. Tarkin, that frackin' crazy bastard had it comin' to him when he got spread all over the empty at Yavin. Had it comin'. I don't get how you could still be gunnin' just like you are, havin' seen me suffer it."

[Bette Davis]

She sat back a little at his comments, stung at the hurt in his tone. Confused at her emotions, Bette shook her head and grabbed her beer to buy her time. "I swore an oath, Kelly. To protect the Galactic Empire." Her face twisted a little. "There are bad apples in every barrel, Perris. Tarkin did get what he deserved. But I can't just toss the baby out with the bathwater."

She drained the beer, setting it down on the bar a little harder than she'd intended. "I can't -" Suddenly dizzy, Bette swayed on the barstool and nearly capsized before she grabbed the edge of the bar to steady herself. "Frell... wha' was in those shots?" She blinked, and put a hand to her head.

[Kelly Perris]

Kelly had been feeling the effects of the shots they'd ingested, too...but not nearly at the length that Bette was feeling them now. The boys back at squadron put each other through considerable liquid abuse some nights and days, yet went to decent lengths to appropriately care for themselves outside of such activities. The term "well-oiled machine" certainly was not lost on him. And when Bette tipped a little, slamming a small hand to her pretty head, his gut reaction was to reach out and keep her stable. Of course, while remaining relatively stable himself. The seasoned pilot had leaned forward to his former comrade and slipped an arm around her, just below the shoulders, and firmly placed the other hand on her right arm, which was closest to him.

"Whoa, babe. I think the 'tender did ya a good lot, there."

This position he was in now gave complete opposite intent to how he had been expressing himself only a minute earlier. He couldn't help it, it was who he was. Pretty lady, not in fine form... instinctually, Kelly couldn't resist aiding her.

"You gonna be ok, Bette?" He said slowly, putting ignorance to the fuzz that had formed around his brain over the past....Hour? Two? Kelly didn't know and right now didn't seem to care much, either.

[Bette Davis]

"Yeah," she slurred - he smelled so good! She leaned into him for a long moment before she remembered what they'd been talking about.

Bette pulled back out of his supporting arm, nearly sending her body off the other side of her stool but managing to maintain her balance. "Look - I never said I was ... perfect. I... I do my job." She slid off her bar stool and dug in her pants pocket for the credits to pay for the drinks. "Hells, its the only thing I'm good at, Perrisss. Whaddya want me to do, join the Rebels?"

She laughed at that, almost hysterically, slapping her creds on the bar.

[Kelly Perris]

Her comment about joining the Rebels spiked his heart rate for half a moment before it calmed again and he answered her slurred words in a most deadpanned tone, matched with his best 'serious' face...considering the circumstances his body had been subjected to over the past...hour? Two? Time had blurred.

"I wouldn't stop ya if you did, babe." Kelly breathed, doing a good job of not slurring at all.

He had his reasons. Most of which would set her against him.

[Bette Davis]

"Frell..." The credits slipped off the bar and onto the floor, and Bette turned and bent down slowly to chase them down. Her rump firmly against Perris' leg, the TIE pilot groaned as her change in position caused the effect of the alchohol she'd ingested to ratchet up in intensity.

Chits once again in hand, she used her barstool to help her back into an upright position, and carefully lined up the credits on the bar. "I thin' I should go back t' m' room." Bette smiled, stumbling backwards away from Kelly, who reached out and caught her arm just in time to stop her from running into a passing trandoshan.

Putting a hand to her head, she reiterated, "What was in those shots?" Except that it sounded more like "Whasha in thsss shaws?" She hadn't been this drunk in at least a year. She felt like she was suddenly floating and Kelly's touch on her arm was the only thing keeping her attached to the floor.

Bette giggled.

Bette never giggled.

[Kelly Perris]

The trandoshan with which Bette nearly made contact slowed his stride a second or two, like he was thinking about doing something untoward, but then decided he probably didn't want to put up with what other trouble it just might bring him and grunted lowly instead. Kelly retained his grip on his former co-worker, and pulled her even closer when she started to giggle, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders for extra support. Now, there had been only so many times in the past twelve years that he had heard Better Davis giggle, and you could count them all on one hand without using all the fingers available. It was simply a testament as to just how drunk she was. Granted, both he and she had been phenominally drunk more times than anyone could count...but this was well into impossibly drunk - or worse.

No doubt that Bette wouldn't remember a whole lot in the morning. Perris was better off, but there would be a massive hangover, and maybe severe spottiness in his memory about tonight. Kelly Perris had always had a knack for being exceptionally coordinated when sauced, which rarely didn't work in his favour.

"Easy there, pardner." Kelly sort of craned his head around for a moment to make sure the credit chits he'd fished out of his pocket made it safely to the bar counter, then turned back to the task at hand.

"Where're you tryin' ta get offta?" That was usually the sure indicator that alcohol was affecting the X-wing pilot - he started to exhibit a backwater hick in his speech.

[Bette Davis]

"Hotel," Bette replied, fumbling in a too tight pants pocket for her room keycard. Flourishing it finally, she peered at it. "Sumplace near here..."

Before Kelly could get a good look at the keycard, Bette tucked it into her back pocket. "Itsa niiice room. Yep." She waved her free hand expressively, "'Spensive." She leaned into his supporting arm, her head against his chest, even as she protested that she could get there "jus' fine."

[Kelly Perris]

He shook his head and moved his hand up her arm to her shoulder, then down, then up again.

"Thur's no way I'mma let ya go 'lone. Not th'way yer floppin' about."

Kelly squeezed her tighter to him to emphasize the point, then took the non-squeezing hand from her shoulder and held it out, almost demandingly so.

"Lemme see." He meant the room card.

[Bette Davis]

"I'm. Not. Floppin.'" Bette took care to enunciate her words. Still, she retrieved the keycard and gave it over to him without a fuss.

She winked. "Tryin' to get inta my room, Mista' Perrish?" Bette smiled up at him as he looked at the card, and then drew away, a different look overcoming her face. "Oh. I gotta get t' the head."

Untangling herself from her old friend's arms, Bette turned around, locating the refreshers and lurching through the crowd toward them.

[Kelly Perris]

"Yeahright." He laughed. "Oh, ok. You go do dat den." One, two... "Hey! Wait a se..."

Before he could stop her, Bette was off, wading through the assorted crowd of drunk around them. He tripped over his words a little, then stared in disbelief after her. Oh yeah, the keycard. Kelly held it up and squinted to look at it, trying to make out the tiny words through the haze on his brain.

"Aw, frell it." He muttered.

Kelly looked at the card one last time, figured he might have the hotel name right, then shrugged and pocketed it. Only after a few minutes of standing around with a stupid look on his face did it suddenly occur to him that maybe he should wade through the accumulation of alcohol induced zombies after her. This would be easy.

[Bette Davis]

She managed to reach the 'fresher without hitting anyone too hard, and elbowed her way into a stall to relieve the pressure on her bladder. Bette stared at the partitions, reading commlink numbers and the crass sayings that other females had scratched into the paint.

She zoned out.

After a while she finished her business, washed her hands and did a little boogie to the music as she dried them. Exiting the 'fresher, Bette looked around for Perris, who was no longer at the bar where she'd left him.

[Kelly Perris]

He'd waded through the crowd and reached the women's fresher, stood off to the side of the door a moment, then a grin crossed his handsome, drunken features. Yes, that would be fun. What an excellent idea. Kelly Perris hid himself best he could, and watched. And waited. And waited. How long does a girl take to use the fresher? Kelly was just starting to get impatient with this game of his when suddenly, Bette sauntered out.

She looks confused. Hehehehe.

The grin on his face widened. Perris tiptoed as best he could, right up behind her, and clamped his hands on her shoulders, and whispered (a little loudly) -

"BOO!"

[Bette Davis]

She was drunk, but she wasn't about to be taken advantage of. As soon as the hands grabbed her shoulders Bette was reacting, the drink causing her brain to bypass the usual thoughts and plugging her body right into her instincts. As the person said "Boo!" in her ear, she'd already grabbed his hands, twisted out from underneath them and while the guy was off balance she spun him onto the ground.

Panting, and with a knee on the guy's chest, Bette blinked at him a little blurrily. "Wha- Perris?" He wheezed a little as she got off him, and she tried to help him to his feet, but now that she was using her alchohol muddled brain again she couldn't quite grab his hand.

He managed without her help, and she started laughing. She was still laughing as one of the bouncers helpfully directed them outside of Cloud 9 and left them outside in the cool Bespin night.

[Kelly Perris]

Escorted out in to the cool-aired night, Kelly was still chuckling a little and rubbing the back of his head, which had taken a good smack thanks to the floor of the Cloud 9. Delivered, of course, by Bette Davis, drunk extraordinaire. His other hand was stuffed into his jacket pocket, thumbing over the rounded corners of the keycard. Slowly, their laughter died down, and Kelly snapped his hand out from behind his head to steady Bette again, who looked like she might take another little trip.

"Whoathar. What now, m'dear?" He drawled out, grinningly. He laughed a little. "Shell we getcha to yarroom?"

He figured he'd at least see her back safely, then wander down to his room, which oddly enough, was at the other end of the hall from hers, if he remembered the room number from her card correctly. That would be easy enough.

Mm, yep. Easy as piiiiie.

[Bette Davis]

"Room!" Bette proclaimed, pointing a finger in the air. "And room service. Gon' need waffles or som'thin' to dry up this liquor."

Remembering where her hotel was suddenly, Bette grabbed Kelly's arm and dragged him down the walk towards the Sunset Hotel...Inn...lodge? Well, she knew where it was anyway. Then she tripped, he caught her and swept her around to hold her upright.

Breathless and held snugly in his strong arms, it only took Bette's brain three seconds to figure out what to do. She stood on tip toe and kissed him right on the lips.

[Kelly Perris]

Uh, well...Ok?

Considering certain awkward facts that would create the opposite effect, and considering that she was what should be considered the enemy, Kelly would normally have backed off and been completely straightforward about where he'd been and exactly who he was, to avoid any nastier repercussions. Well, anything worse than an attempted thrashing by Bette. But, since giving him a sound and hurtful thrashing was apparently the farthest thing from her mind, and rational, coherent thought wasn't really occurring in his head either (thanks to the alcohol), he just gave in and kissed her back. In fact, there wasn't much giving in involved at all. Not much thinking either, for that matter.

When that ended, he pulled back a little and looked at her (holding on), and grinned lopsidedly.

"Well, h'lo ta you, too." He managed, turning his head slightly, briefly, to look down the walk, before returning his full-on attention to her.

"Shall we?"

[Bette Davis]

"Oh, we shall," purred Bette, not releasing her hold on him for a moment. Trailing a hand down his chest, the TIE pilot finally relented and positioned herself under his arm as they headed for her room.

One of her arms was around his waist, and she let it drop down and give his rear a good firm squeeze. Bette's brain was buzzing, and she could barely put two thoughts together that made sense. All she could think about was the moment.

At her door Kelly looked like he might try to play a gentleman and excuse himself, but as the door clicked open she grabbed his lapels and pulled him inside. Walking backwards Bette jumped on him as they cleared the threshold, the door swishing shut behind him just before he crashed into it with her legs wrapped around his waist and her mouth on his.

She was hungry for companionship. When you faced death every day in the cockpit... Bette tugged at Kelly's shirt, finally ripping it open and sending buttons flying everywhere.

[Kelly Perris]

The tone of her voice, the position of her arm around his waist, then her hand to his behind made his brain whirl. A certain lopsided grin swam up on his face with it all, but as they got closer to her room, sobering waves hit him. The commander wasn't sure this was a line he wanted to - or should - cross. Not now, not with what he had become and what she still was. The consequences if he were to let anything slip weren't exactly appealing. And so... He tried to protest, honestly he did. But Kelly Perris had been just as lost for companionship as she for quite some time (despite the tales he shared between himself and squadron mates) which made the temptation incredibly difficult to resist. With nary a thought, Bette had herself hopped up and wrapped around him like a vicious tentacled thing - dangerous, yet strangely alluring.

"Bette..." And his words were muffled as the door swoosed, the buttons flew, and their faces came so close to one another the darkness of the room couldn't see a separation - mouths mingled, words muffled. He would have torn her off, and drew the line, but the basic drive of the human species decided to exert its will and have a little fun. And who was he to resist?

Oh yeah. I can manage. The though was a most satisfying one. Oh yes, yes I can.

[Bette Davis]

Half an hour later Bette lay on her back on the bed, panting up at the ceiling. Kelly rolled over next to her, and she sank into the pillows, still floating on a haze of alcohol.

After a moment she flipped over, propping herself up on her elbows as she traced a circle on Kelly's chest with her fingertip. Bending close she kissed his skin, then nipped at him. "Mmmm, just as good as I remember." She snuggled into him and her hand traced more circles, descending downwards.

[Kelly Perris]

"I happen to agree." A self-satisfied smile sat lopsidedly on his mouth, moving one hand to toy idly with her hair, pressing a kiss into it before she went about circling over and over on his body. The feel of the soft tracing action was strangely calming, and he had readily forgotten about all the objections he had in mind a half-hour previous in the intense activity just completed. It was worth it for the moment - frack the consequences until the consequences were good and ready to be had.

"So 'just as good', huh?" He laughed, coughing a little from the alcoholic haze and catching of his breath. "A shame that after so much time there's not a switch of a hair of improvement."

The smile on his face turned to a teasing grin, wondering how she'd react to what appeared to be a form of insult - really, a nudge of jest. He believed things did improve with age.

[Bette Davis]

Bette growled playfully. "I was jus' about to say th' same thing. I'da thought you'da learned some new tricks." Her hand trailed to his bellybutton, and she stuck her finger in it, knowing that he hated that.

Kelly groaned and grabbed at her hand, and she snatched it away before he could make contact. Pouncing on him, Bette straddled her former lover, trying to pin his hands down. "I'm sure that I blew your mind, as usual." She leaned down to kiss him.

[Kelly Perris]

Kelly squirmed a bit at the finger invading in his navel, and swatted at her hand, trying to fend it off, grinning at the fact that she still remembered that little infuriating detail. She still remembered how to toy with the idea of pushing his buttons. "Leave that alone."

Next thing's next, Bette was on top of him. Being pinned down by her he could easily overpower her if he so chose, but the seasoned rebel pilot decided to play along with her delusions of grandeur for power and dominance because... well, still being affected somewhat by the liquor had something to do with it, in any case. When she went in to kiss him in that way she seemed to do, he suddenly got the funny idea in his head to not let her and avoid it, sliding his hands and curling his fingers around her wrists.

"You assume far too much, Shooter." He said with a wry smile, and a swift move that had their positions now reversed. He hunched in closer, making the bare space between his face and hers close to indistinguishable. "More than my mind is blown."

Then a thought occurred to him. "Are you still as good as this out in the black?"

[Bette Davis]

She grinned and rubbed her nose against his. "Better." She squirmed suggestively underneath him, even though he'd just rebuffed her advances and put her in a submissive position. The regular TIES pilots are just plasma cannon fodder, but us Shadows just cut through the rebels like a hot knife in nuna butter."

Bette nipped at his lower lip, too drunk still to notice the sudden change in his demeanor.

[Kelly Perris]

Hearing her say those words.... the damage to his fellow squadrons, some of it even to his own - though not often - was something he should have known, should have expected that she would be behind. He taught her nearly everything she knew, and then some. It left him wondering then, why he hadn't noticed it before, why there was always that one enemy fighter that was just out of his reach, just as he was out of theirs.

It stung. Despite everything shared before, and what he thought they shared now... he was fooling himself, and it was his own lack of restraint that got him here.

Typical man. Thinking with my pants.

He hung his head, took a deep breath, and then... he laughed. "I still don't know how ya still can be doing it. I guess that'll be beyond me for ages to come."

[Bette Davis]

She looked up at him, and quirked an eyebrow. "Us jockeys never retire, Perris." Bette wiggled out from underneath him and sat up on the other side of the bed, fishing around for her underwear. Regulation black, of course.

"Can't see how you live without the feel of the yoke in your hands and a couple tons of metal screaming around you." She smiled, wistfully. "It never gets old." She located her things, and squirmed into her panties.

[Kelly Perris]

He'd flipped over onto his back and threw his hands around his head, palms over temples. He closed his eyes and drew in a sharp, almost frustrated sounding breath.

"That's not what I meant, Bette." He slid his hands off his head and pulled up off his back, folding his left leg and hooking his left arm around the knee, his other hand planted on the bed for support. Kelly looked on the woman he'd known all these years, wondering how she couldn't have changed and shook his head, sighing. "Not at all."

The elder pilot rubbed a hand down over his face, from his eyes, over his nose and mouth, then around to the back of his neck and took his eyes from her form, slowly becoming further clothed. He fetched his trousers, boxers still within and pulled up the whole ensemble, then reached for his shirt, yanking it over his head and shoving arms through sleeves, the buttons still done up. Next was the zipper, button and belt. He cast a tired eye to where his coat was cast on the floor at the end of the bed, then looked back to her. "How you can still be fighting for such a terrible cause... one that would destroy a whole world and think nothing of it."

[Bette Davis]

Half lounging in her sports bra and underwear, Bette watched him pull on his clothes. As he talked her expression changed minutely, her lively eyes deadening a little. "Of course I don' agree with what that bastard did t' Alderaan." The alcohol was still coursing through her system, and as this was her room she snuggled down into the bed a little more, her head pillowed on a curled arm.

"Jus' who d'ya think I am, anyway?" She scowled at him. "But peace is not a terrible cause. Galactic governments have zillions of people in them, an' they deserve to live in a universe wi'out terrorists."

Bette shook her head at Perris, who seemed to be unable to find his boots. "I swore an oath, Kelly, an' I'll uphold it because I've hitched m' wagon to the people who are keeping the galaxy safe. Tarkin was a bastard... but things are so... different now.

"An' my word means something. Somethin' you seemed t' have no trouble forgettin' when you were breakin' yours."

[Kelly Perris]

He looked on her with a hard eye, then went back to the search for his well-worn and comfortable boots. The amount of alcohol ingested coupled with the fact that his imbibing partner was her seemed to make his footwear elusive without fail, nearly every time. He had to wonder if some fashion of Bespin gas gnomes were under her command to do so.

"That is a false safety and I am saddened that you can so easily turn a blind eye to such vast oppression and blatantly insidious propaganda." It was his turn to scowl. He stopped looking for his boots (he was sure know that they might have snuck under the bed) and stood full up as much as he could and looked at her, not breaking his line of nearly glaring sight.

"That word means nothing on a foundation of foul lies, Bette. I woke up to that long ago."

[Bette Davis]

She threw his boots at him, smacking him in the chest with them from the other side of the bed despite her state of drunkenness. "My word means everythin'."

Bette glared, and then grabbed her boots and threw them at him as well, for good measure. "So... frak you, Perris!"

[Kelly Perris]

"But you already did." He said with a pained smirk, ducking her boots after taking at least one of his to his right shoulder, the heel roughly grazing his jaw.

Yes, he had the gall to joke amidst everything that was going on and not going on. It was a morsel that was just too incredibly hard to resist, even given the fact that she might figure out eventually just why he was giving her such a hard time. That is, if he didn't tell her or simply let it slip by accident. The fact that he had dropped about a billion incredibly vague and obscure hints already and none of them really seemed to register was making him a little antsy. He hadn't been expecting none of what had happened tonight at all. Furthermore, from the moment he'd laid eyes on her earlier in the night, he was certain it would have gone south much faster than this.

Kelly turned around and bent over to retrieve his boots and hers. The only show she got here was a behind she was more than familiar with and the fact that its firm nature didn't change much at all in the six-ish years since they'd last been face to face might have been of some surprise given the amount of change most regular people tend to go through in less time than that. When he stood up and turned around to face her again, he had his boots dangling from his left hand by his left thigh and knee... hers, held up by his right hand, dangled forwards at her - taunting, in a way. The look on his face was an accompaniment to the tease. He grinned and dropped his boots, slipping his feet into them and being thankful that they landed straight with a thud as he did so. Perris dropped her boots and bent, lacing his boots with the speed like he'd done it a million times before - which was more than the truth.

"So're ya gonna kick my ass or what? This is probably the best chance you'll ever get, seein' as you can't seem to hit me or most of my men, much less the broad side of an SSD." He said, doing the last tie-off on his boots and rising to look on Bette again.

So he'd said it, although the mention was halfway in obscurity again. The half-serious, mostly smirk teased at the concept of a rogueish grin on his face as he reached for his jacket and tossed it over his shoulder, hanging it there with two fingers and a thumb for the clincher, ready for anything. The haze had begun to part a short while ago and he'd barely noticed.

[Bette Davis]

"I jus' did hit you," she retorted, and was already turned around and halfway to the refresher when what Kelly had said filtered through the alcohol. Biological need outweighed outrage, and she sat on the head, the door open while she peed.

Perhaps he hadn't just said what she thought he said.

She sat there after she was done, head still swirling with all the shots she'd consumed just a few hours ago. Perris wasn't visible through the door, but he was still moving around the room.

When she got up and pulled her underwear back on, she walked to the open door and leaned tiredly against the jam. Her face was streaked with tears.

"Get out."

[Kelly Perris]

Yeah, she got it. He figured as much, given the lack of words she had to return at him. Furthermore, the evidence on her face and the tone of her voice as she told him quite plainly to leave (in shorter, not-as-nice words, but still nicer than ones she could have used) was very telling. He shifted his weight back and forth between his two feet and set to pulling on his coat.

"Or else what, Bette? The truth hurts, doesn't it?" He grew silent a moment, stuffing his hands into the pockets of said coat. "At least I didn't lie to you. Would you rather not have known?"

He didn'ty budge an inch from where he stood, locking her with a half-hard stare, streaked with regret and utter honesty. Kelly Perris may have been a bit of a playboy over the years, a hotshot pilot, the man who could likely drink anyone and everyone under the table, but there was one thing he was not and never would be and that was a liar.

"Let me tell you that it is much harder to confess for your sins than it is to live with them."

[Bette Davis]

The tears were still streaming down her face, streaking her black eye makeup down her cheeks. "You didn't...didn't... lie to me?" Bette started to shake.

There were no words to express what she felt. He'd kept the truth from her... he hadn't just deserted, he'd gone over to the Rebellion. He'd let her believe a lie.

And now that she knew... she had a duty.

She disappeared back into the refresher for a second, and reappeared, her service blaster pistol between both hands. She pointed it at him, centering it directly on Perris' chest.

"Get. Out." She couldn't stop crying, and the blaster was shaking, but she was giving him the chance to go. His friendship had meant that much to her, she was giving him a chance. Bette screamed, "Get out, frak you, I don't want to do this!"

[Kelly Perris]

"Then don't. You have a choice. You always have."

He headed for the door, but before letting it open, before getting that close, oddly, he stopped and smiled at her, a distinct lack of fear present at the fact that she had her service blaster pointed somewhat shakily at him. He wanted to step forward and close the gap, take the blaster away from her by force and help her understand, but until she was willing... until anyone was willing, there was nothing you could do.

"It is not your duty to end lives, Shooter. It is your duty to protect them. Remember that."

He turned and stepped the last foot or two to the door, hearing it whoosh open. He went to leave, but stopped again in the doorway. It grated against his better self. The way she looked behind the pistol made him want to show her what a gentleman was. Foolish notions for another day, another time. A different life, certainly.

"And remember me. I know I couldn't ever forget you if I tried and I don't want to." He said, tipping his head to her. "Goodbye, Bette Davis."

He turned his back to her and her blaster and stepped out into the middle of the night. The door whooshed shut in hesitant finality.