Cognitive Response II: Old Habits and Giving Up (Nathanial)

[Abagael Zellan]

1:00 AM, The Iris Club

She would have to stop seeing him, it was as simple as that, Abagael decided. It wasn't as if their relationship was terribly serious, it had only been a few weeks. Besides, it didn't wouldn't look good in court if it were brought up.

Abby took a long swig of her drink, the music in the tiny joint roaring in the background. The Iris was a popular hangout, for those who really liked to cut loose. She didn't come often, just enough.

No, she couldn't go back to the shrink. The good doctor just caused too many problems. Abagael scrunched up her face, thinking about the meeting in his office a few hours earlier.

"It's no coincidence that you never form emotional ties with these men you encounter, Abby. It's part of a self-destructive behaviorial pattern that you seem to employ. The question is why you do."

She did not have a self-destructive behaviorial pattern. She was as normal as the next woman. Men had flings all the time, why couldn't she?

Nevertheless, the evening was not turning out like she would have liked. The music did not make her want to dance, the club was full of sweaty teenagers, and she was starting to get a headdache. No matter how hard she pretended, this was her cue to make for the glowing EXIT.

Outside away from all the other bodies, it was freezing. Goosebumps rose on her skin; the shiny top she was wearing did little to cover her. Abby flicked her long hair back from her face and shivered, rubbing her arms vigorously. Why hadn't she driven? There was no way she'd get a 'cab in this area.

"Frell."

The woman began to clog down the pedwalk, heels click-click-clicking along. It was hard, this walking straight. She'd had too much to drink. After a few minutes Abby sighed and shook her head, lowering herself down to the cold ground. It was going to take her forever to get back to the temple.

"Frell."

[Nathanial K'cansce]

Kill her...


Do it....



*The voice inside Nathanial's head was as persistent as ever. It was out to show the galaxy just how ruthless the Dark Lord of the Sith could really be; trying to make everyone fear the name of Darth Snack.

But it wasn't the human being's style. Mindless killing was what drove him away from being a Sith for some time... more than three-fourths of his life. No, he wasn't a Sith of the present. He was one of the future. A new breed, whether Father liked it or not.*

It will be so easy... look at her...

*So he did. So helpless, her back resting against the cold side of a building. The woman seemed so out of it, so drunk, and was so very very beautiful.*

Kill her!!

No...

*He took a few silent steps towards the woman, his eyes never leaving the form of her club-dressed body.*

Feel her... she is of the Light.... She will only oppose you and stop you from gaining greatness... do away with her and that is one less who will stand in our way.

*He ignored the voice as he knelt beside her form. Perhaps she sensed him coming, perhaps not. But her eyes were cold, and her body, covered in goose-bumps, shivered. The cloak around his own body flew off and draped itself over Abagael. He then gently touched her arm, shaking it slightly.*

...

[Abagael Zellan]

She had to get up before she became the next front page murder. Abby wasn't an idiot, she knew it was dumb to just sprawl out on the pavement in the wee hours of the morning. Her legs didn't agree however. The woman was just resigning herself to the idea of spending a good part of the night here when something warm wrapped around her body. Abagael sucked in a startled breath, throwing open her half-closed eyes.

The startled orbs took in the kneeling man before her, his hand on her arm.

This is it. I pushed my luck too far. I'm going to die.

But the hard bargainer in her wouldn't let Abby just let it go at that. She slid her skinny half-naked frame a few inches away from the character, still shaking from the chill and now with an added twinge of nerves.

Give them what they want, don't worry about your credits, your purse. Just your life.

Ababael shook her head.

"I don't have anything."

[Nathanial K'cansce]

Who said I wanted anything?

*Nathan said, inching closer to her as she inched away. He wrapped his cloak around her form tightly, for she was obviously cold beyond belief.*

You'll catch a cold out here in the state you're in. You need to get inside.

*As he spoke comforting warm words to the lady, the voice in the back of his mind grumbled something awful in the tongue of Sith. Father was not pleased.*

[Abagael Zellan]

"Everybody wants something."

Abby stared at the man, scarcely breathing. Good Samaritans were far and few between, and the woman hadn't met any outside of the Jedi. She highly doubted that here, outside a seedy club in the early hours of the morning, would put to rest that experience.

You'll catch a cold out here in the state you're in. You need to get inside.

In her drunken state the words, though stemming from common sense, seemed like a wonderful idea. Abagael nodded dumbly, but pressed still further against the wall.

"Okay."

[Nathanial K'cansce]

*A warm hearted smile crossed his lips as he gently grabbed her arm. He stood up, helping the lady stand as well. Holding on to her so she wouldn't fall, he looked around the busy dark street.*

Do you have a place around here?

[Abagael Zellan]

Abby stumbled in her heels, despite the mans helping grasp. With a yelp she gripped his shirt to steady herself, leaning her head against his shoulder. After a few minutes of scuffing her feet against the duracrete the shoes came off, lowering Abagael by a great many inches. The woman seemed to relax a bit more with her feet flat against the cold ground.

With a hopeless glance around, Abby tried to remember where the Temple was. The area looked only vaguely familiar and in an instant Abby knew she couldn't direct herself home.

"No. Not here, I live..."

Did she want to tell him? In her years as a lawyer Abagael had met many beings who hated the Jedi with a passion. If this fellow was one of them Abby had no chance at protecting herself.

"... somewhere else."

[Nathanial K'cansce]

Right then.

*Nate glanced down to the top of her head, which now rested near his own shoulder. He kept his arm around her cloaked form, trying to keep her warm.

She lives at the Temple...

Yeah... your point?

My point is that you could take her home. You could find out where the Jedi Temple is. With the knowledge of their home-

They would tear me a new one. They know me. It would be stupid to knock on their front door and say, 'Hey, here I am. Bringing home one of your own. Have a nice day!'

He shook his head clear of the voices. His Father was stupider than he was old.*

I'll take you to my place I have here. It's not too far.

*His hand rubbed up and down Abagael's far arm, trying to keep her warm still as he began to lead her in the direction of his condo.*

[Abagael Zellan]

Whoa, hang on! That didn't sound like a good idea, it sounded like the premise of a cheesy holovid, the kind where people ended up zipped into a neat little bodybag...

But Abby didn't protest. The heat of the mans body felt good, and sagging against him was a great relief to the womans tired body. The padawan simply nodded hazily and let him lead her, forgetting all about her shoes behind them.

"I'm not usually... I don't do this a lot... I just, you know..."

No, she didn't usually do this in public. Drinking was assigned in her quarters, where her bed or a couch was just a few steps away. Her son had never minded.

Her son. Where was Trent? Ah yes, his fathers. Good, Abby didn't have to worry about him then. That made one less thing.

"I'm Jane."

[Nathanial K'cansce]

"I'm not usually... I don't do this a lot... I just, you know..."

*He let a small laugh escape his mouth. He didn't mean to laugh, but it was funny for some odd reason.*

"I'm Jane."

The name's Nathan.

*Though I doubt she'll remember that in the morning... Smirking, he continued to walk the two towards the building where his condo was. After a good five to ten minutes, they arrived. It was grand to be able to get inside the main lobby and out of the could night air.

Moments after, and after a lift ride to the thirtieth floor, the two had finally made it to the door of his condo. Nathan entered in the passcode which in turn caused the door to swoosh open.*

Make yourself at home.

[Abagael Zellan]

The lift ride had lasted half past forever. Just when she was beginning to wonder if... what was his name? Payton? Mason? No... Nathan! That was it! Just when she was beginning to wonder if Nathan lived on the roof, the doors swooshed open and he half-nudged, half-carried her to his condo.

For a moment Abagael just stood wobbily as the door slid shut behind her. The apartment was beautiful, but it wasn't the decor that caught her attention. Shakily, the woman hobbled over to one of the large windows and leaned her forhead against it, looking down. She could just barely make out the sidewalks below.

"... You live very high up..."

With a grin Abby turned to smile at Nathan before stumbling clumsily over to a couch and sinking into it.

"D'ya live here all by yourselfsss?"

[Nathanial K'cansce]

Whenever I'm in town, yes.

*Nathan smirked. He wondered just how much the drunken woman would ponder on that statement. Hell, even a sobered up fellow would spend a few minutes thinking that over, or at least ask the obvious question: 'When you're in town?'

In the little kitchen section of the condo, Nate rummaged around to see what he had to eat, or drink. Impatient and undecided, he poured himself a glass of water, which he put in the microwave to heat up. In the cupboard behind him was a pack of herbal teas and the like.*

Do you know what sobers people up? I'm afraid I haven't dealt with many drunk people in my long lifetime.

*He posed the question while looking over his shoulder to where Jane was sitting.*

[Abagael Zellan]

Ah, so he didn't live here, live here. That was nice. Abby sighed happily to herself, wondering if maybe she should do the same. It would be wonderful to just up and leave Coruscant... but her 'father' wouldn't like it. Heck, he'd probably send a fleet after her.

"You've must have a very flexbi... flexilil... understanding job."

The woman nodded in confirmation to herself and then slid down so that she was on her back on the couch. Her metallic shirt had ridden up on the sides, and now looked like little more than a brazieere. Abby lifted her legs up and rested them on the back of the couch.

Do you know what sobers people up? I'm afraid I haven't dealt with many drunk people in my long lifetime.

Abby pouted like a grumpy child.

"I'm not drunk. I was just drinking. There's a difference, y'know!"