(no subject)

The door opened onto where he had landed last time he was out of the bar. Atton noticed with some small interest that there was a trail of blood - just droplets - leading to the door. His own, from when he had crawled there.

He’d never quite get over time not passing.

He made his way forward, towards a long, unstable looking bridge and stopped. He had been expecting that sound. Boots hitting metal and the humming of a lightsaber. He ignited his own lightsaber as soon as he heard it and turned around.

Atton knew that behind the Dark Jedi’s mask, there was an expression of shock. When the Dark Jedi had last met Atton - only a few minutes ago for him - he had been bruised, bleeding, tired and fleeing.

The Dark Jedi took a step back, keeping his lightsaber pointed at Atton’s chest. Atton grinned brightly.

Atton’s lightsaber flashed up, knocking the Dark Jedi’s away. The Dark Jedi moved backwards, struggling to keep up his guard until eventually, with a shower of sparks, Atton severed the Dark Jedi’s lightsaber generator in two.

The Dark Jedi fell backwards, pushing one palm forward, the invisible force knocking Atton off his feet. By the time Atton was up again, the Dark Jedi had fled.

He shrugged, turning away and heading down the bridge. He had other matters to attend to.

Some of them involving nightclubs.

(no subject)

Thirteen years before Atton’s most recent departure from the bar.

Somehow, headaches always seemed to get worse when Jaq looked in the mirror. His hair was mussed, he was still wearing his clothes from last night (Party. Funeral. Wait, no, that doesn’t make any sense. Lots of drinking.) and somewhere on his chest somebody had drawn a cartoon.

It was a very good cartoon, despite it’s politics being a bit biased.

Jaq still didn’t know why he had a cartoon on his chest. It was not his biggest problem. He had a briefing to get to in ten minutes.

He let this sink in for a second.

“Oh,” He muttered after a while. “Kriff.”

Turning, he rushed through the bathroom door.