A Breath of Recycled Air

[Jeremy Varin]

A smile and half a nod, as Jeremy pulled a chit from his back pocket. He moved up to the bar, instinct driving him to slide himself onto a stool with the ease of a man who'd long ago memorized the 'dance'. The chit was pushed across the pitted bartop, scraping across parts of the lacquer that'd been dinged, scratched, and pounded. Well, it seemed the entirety of the bartop bore those telltale signs to be honest.

"You got any Corulag Imperial stout?"

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

The red-faced Askajian squared Varin up with a smoldering expression.

"A Corulag what?"

A few patrons at the bar fixed Varin with a side-eye as the eight-breasted barmaid tossed aside her wash rag, and planted both palms squarely on the table.

"Listen here mister, we don't do cute and we don't do characters, and we definitely don't serve any of that ten credit fancy core dreck. We serve Ebla Classic, Ebla Light, and Waakoo. Now are you getting a beer or not?"

[Jeremy Varin]

Well. Jeremy met the bartender's no-nonsense expression with one of his own. He wasn't so pampered that he'd not had his share of Blastech 45 or Selonia's Best. Stll though, When in Coronet...

"Waakoo, then."

No sense in antagonizing the locals.

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"Heeey, mee tooo!"

Gradoona chimed in with a bright note of agreement, glad to see that Jeremy was drinking the home team's fashion. She raised a fist for him to bump, hovered awkwardly a moment as it went unrequited since he was looking the other way...then bumped him on the shoulder.

"Two pitchers, eh?"

The Askajian rolled her eyes, then went to fill the order. That left the herglic and the human at the bar to survey the landscape. Gradoona leaned her bulk against the counter, her head towering into a visible patina of smoke.

"Soo, ya ever get to Giju aaften?"

[Jeremy Varin]

"Cant' say as I've ever been," he admitted while turning back to face her. He smiled though, resting an elbow on the bartop.

"But the stuff I've had from there isn't too bad, I gotta say. Least it's better than that Sarlacc Malt Liquor."

He gave her a wink then.

"So. You've got a decent lay of the land here, and a good bit of experience dealing with the folks that've decided to set up shop. Anything I need to know about what to avoid and what to have a go at?"

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Two frosty pitchers were deposited on the countertop, complete with tumblers. Gradoona pushed one of those aside, pawing a pitcher for herself.

"Well..."

Her tongue clicked, followed by a whistle from her blowhole.

"Ya mean besiiides the whoole thing abouut naat taking pretty necklaces from strange women?"

[Jeremy Varin]

A grin, and a slight chuckle as he poured himself a full tumbler.

"Yeah, I'd like to avoid that as much as possible."

He wasn't averse to marriage, but he also hadn't really found anyone who tugged at his heartstrings and made him want to settle down. There was still a healthy level of the old pilot bravado in his veins... not to mention he wasn't exactly what most would consider 'husband material'. He was normally a solitary sort, enjoying time spent alone or - as was the case now - out and about with no intentions to find some magical match-made-in-heaven.

"I'm really only interested in something to pass the time. Something, mind you, that won't land me in some sort of awkwardness that has to do with me explaining how 'it's not you, it's me'."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Gradoona considered the parameters, taking a few inches off the top of her pitcher as she did.

"Well, I suppoose it's naat a surprise I'd recommend the gambling. It's kinda in my blood, yaknoo. Aall soorts here too. Ya gaat sabacc, pazacc, chance cubes, blaab races. Hell, sometimes in a place like this..."

She stooped a bit lower, keeping her voice down.

"Ya miight even get a few fringers and freighter jocks to race."

A wink.

"Aaff the record, by the by, and soo a little birdie says, yaknoo? The Ciz ain't big on a whole laat aaf unlicensed fun-having, and the Alliance is getting moore strict abouut it too. But I've put half my paycheck aan a race oor two that's sprung up."

[Jeremy Varin]

He nodded in understanding, knowing all too well the stricter regulations that had been coming down the official pipeline were growing more rigid by the day.

"I'll not argue the Alliance side," he conceded.

"I've not been in for as long as some of the others, but I hear stories."

He took a pull from his glass.

"Like how back in the day, it was all hand to mouth and gut rot in mortar tubes and back alley rendezvous. I was just a fresh to Academy sprog when that mess was happening."

He gave a sideways wink to Gradoona.

"Sad to say I've got no stories about that side of the conflict from back then. Mostly just idiot pranks and shenanigans from the Imperial Academy."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"Ooh, a greycoat, eh?"

Gradoona uttered the pejorative in a lower timbre than her usual boisterous tone, glancing sidelong as she sipped. The bartender was staring at Jeremy again. So was the next person down the line of the bar. Gradoona leaned in towards Jeremy, gingerly draping a hand over his shoulder.

"Ya miiight waanna leave that part aaf the resumé out, eh? This is the soort aaf place that takes that soorta thing personal."

Not that she had any problem with Imperial defectors, but she wasn't everyone else. And in a place like Gruffjacks, even starting the war on the wrong side could get you in trouble.

[Jeremy Varin]

Sending deceptively disinterested glances to those who were staring at him, Jeremy gave a shrug as he took another level from his drink.

"Honesty can get you killed and all of that, eh?"

His voice held a weary note as he swallowed.

"I'm used to it."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

She was breezy and conciliatory again, draping a hand over his shoulder that mostly a show of camaraderie - but also maybe a little protective.

"Hey, the way I see it, juust abouut aall of us uused t' be Imperial citizens at some point oor another. Suure ya gaat edge cases like the Cizeraack aand a few foolks ouut in wild space, but foor the moost paart, we were different people naat too laang agoo."

"Yeah, but who'd this asshole have to shoot in the back before he got a guilty conscience?"

Well, shit. Gradoona hauuumed a weary sigh from her blowhole, pivoting back to get a glimpse of the guy who'd decided to butt into their friendly chat. Human. Burly, but not bodybuilder-esque. Definitely drunk, and definitely sitting at a table with a half dozen other people giving them the stink eye.

[Jeremy Varin]

At that, he couldn't help but send a look over his shoulder to the group sitting behind them. Of course, all he really got was a look at a smattering of angry faces; Gradoona's hand, still on his shoulder, was big enough to block off anything else below the neck.

"I don't shoot people in the back," he spoke with as level a tone as he could while turning back to his drink.

One hand moved to grasp the pitcher, and with a measured pace he refilled his glass.

"Ain't that kind of guy."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

Six wooden chairs pushed in unison along the floor with a SCREE. The Askajian bartender glowered, shouting at basically everyone in particular.

"You idiots break anything in here, you buy it!"

Gradoona put on a charm offensive, stepping between Jeremy and the mob. Expats had a term for it - Herglic diplomacy. Be calm, be considerate, and also be four times as big as any troublemaker. It was usually really effective.

"Ookay fellas, ookay. Lookit, we're saaame teeeam, yaknoo? There's naat a single one aaf us that came here the saame way, but we're here now, right? Riiight? Soo how abouut you guys go home, sleep it aaff, and naat do something we'll aall regret, eh?"

[Jeremy Varin]

Jeremy had of course turned in his seat, his drink ignored for the moment as that telltale sound of scraping chairs heralded the already telegraphed mood of some of Gruffjack's patrons. He had to lean slightly to the side, to allow himself a view from behind Gradoona. The Herglic was monolithic, and from the looks of things, she had a fair bit of experience in trying to tamp down unfortunate behaviors.

"I'm just here for a drink, gentlemen," his voice was just as level as before, his features as serene and honest as he could make them.

"Not looking for trouble, I swear."

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"Ookay?? Ookay guys! Eh??"

Gradoona turned palms up in a conciliatory fashion to make good on her peacemaking. The half dozen drunks simmered and mean-mugged, but nobody looked like they were gonna do anything crazy. The Herglic let out a sigh from her blowhole, turning her attention back to Jeremy.

"Yaknoo...maaaybe I staarted ya a little too salt aaf the earth. Maaybe we ouughtaa..."

...and before Gradoona could finish the sentence it was finished for her. A wooden chair smashed apart as it clubbed over the back of her head.

[Jeremy Varin]

"Ooh! Hey now, gents!!!"

And just like that things went from barely hanging on by a thread, to a whopper of an opening salvo. Jeremy was off his seat in less than a second, doing his best to sidestep while maintaining his hold on his drink without spilling. It was a difficult task considering two angry faces were closing in.

A helpless, pleading smile flashed across his features as his back hit a wall, and he lifted his glass.

"Come on... you wouldn't hit a guy with a full beer now, would you?"

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"Oof!"

Gradoona got a little air taken out of her sail. She blinked, then turned around to face the direction the chair had come from. Wasn't too hard to see which of the rowdy fellas had been the one to swing the chair, on account of them not having one anymore.

"Ooh-hoo-hookay then fellas! Yaknoo, I was kiiiiinda hoopin' yaa'd feel that way!"

One grin on the Herglic looked like a lot of others, but maybe this time it looked a little more confident and brassy than usual. On the other hand, the provocateur in question just blinked in reply, staring up at the completely unphased cetaceoid who was in the process of finishing her beer...

...with what looked like part of a wooden chair leg wedged in her head.

[Jeremy Varin]

He moved on instinct, though it was a quick, shifting move that did nothing more than remove his head from the trajectory of an incoming fist. A fist that punched the air past his ear and into the durasteel wall behind. His attacker roared in anger and pain before recoiling back, one hand going to cradle three broken knuckles.

The second one unleashed an almost identical jab, which ended in much the same way.

With both men snarling as they held their wounded hands, Jeremy ducked between them, ever-mindful to make sure his beer was unspilled. A quick glance to his afternoon companion yielded a rather bizarre sight however, and he paused only long enough give her a double take before ducking another roundhouse strike.

"Um... 'Doona... ?"

[Gradoona Pod-Floewander]

"Yeeah??"

Gradoona replied back, only mildly harried by her current attacker. He landed a few vicious body blows before she stiff-armed him away to safe distance, palming the man's head like a tangerine. Her expression didn't change much, but what passed for a smile and what passed for a grimace for Herglics was separated by a razor's edge. Her noggin smarted a bit more than she'd let on, but no sense in not putting her game face on for Jeremy's sake.

Apparently she'd left herself open, and one of the drunks picked up a head of steam, charging ahead and leaping to kick Gradoona in the belly. The kick landed, and so did the attacker...right on his back. Gradoona loomed over the misguided roundhouse artist.

"Oh ho ho you-hoo are juust adoorable."

With a sudden push, Gradoona's stiff-arm sprung the first attacker over a table. She held up her hand patiently as the second man stumbled to his feet.

"Caan yaa wait juust a sec?"

She glanced back to Jeremy, shrugging as if to urge him to spit out whatever he wanted to say.