Catfish Blues [open]

[imported_Grev Drasen]

One year. That was the length of time he had been secluded from the outside world. It was no one's fault but his own; he needed that period. Grev hadn't gave the slightest apprisal to his master -- though, it wasn't as if he needed to. He had a mutual understanding with Zasz, and being a recluse was just in his nature. When the time arose for their reacquaintance it would be obvious, and Grev would act on it. For now he'd settle for causing his own mischief.

The setting was Coruscant, which seemed to be the host for every two-bit, swank club in the galaxy. This establishment was no exception. Amidst the pounding sound of bass drums and synthesized melodies, Grev slumped lazily in one of the many booths lining the wall. With his head propped lifelessly against the duracrete, he grimaced as the throbbing vibrations of the music thumped against his brain. A bottle of cheap whiskey sat adjacent to him, thought its accompanying shot glass was seemingly spotless (or as spotless as a shot glass in a shady Coruscant bar could be).

The whiskey hadn't been touched, but then again, he never was much of a drinker. His eyes roamed freely about the dance floor, though not much was to be seen beneath the neon and strobe lighting. A midnight massacre wasn't sounding all that bad at this point.

[Linn O'Conner]

Ah, the lovely sounds of nature... Linn O'Conner thought sarcastically as she avoided being hit by two teenagers on hover boards.

It stunk here, she decided as she located a bar to go to. She found herself in bars more an more often these days, and this day wasn't any different. Linn made her way into the dark club, the music pulsating under her feet, and making her feel as if she were on unstable ground.

Taking a quick look at the inhabitence of the bar, Linn found an empty table across the room from the booths, and ordered a drink.

As she sat, she let her eyes observe the bar-goers more closely. There was a man in the corner who looked heart sick, and a woman in the booth behind him who was seriously drunk. In a booth in front of her there was a man with his head leaned against the wall, and an untouched whiskey bottle in front of him, along with a shot glass that was just beyond his fingers. Briefly she wondered what his story was as she continued to observe the bar.