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Jan. 16th, 2007 07:31 pm“So ... Weather’s nice.”
Both Atton and Lyman nodded silently, gulping down their drinks. Atton gave Shadra a sheepish look, only to look away again when a withering glare was directed at him.
Shadra sipped her drink, looking between the two irritably.
“Somebody say something.”
No sounds were forthcoming. Atton looked up from his drink nervously, peering at them both. Lyman was staring down at his drink intently, and Shadra was prodding him in the arm.
“Say something, nerfherder,” She snapped at him. “Or you’ll be sleeping on the sofa for years.”
Lyman glared at her, tapping his fingers on the table for a moment before shoving his chair back and standing.
“I think I need something stronger. Next round’s on me.”
Atton pointedly refused to watch him as he headed over to the bar. He kept his eyes fixed on a nearby Gand, inhaling cyanogen from a small tank.
“You could make an effort too, you know. Neither of you’ve even tried talking,” Shadra tapped his shoulder impatiently. “And that Gand’s going to start getting suspicious in a moment or two.”
Atton promptly shifted his gaze to rest on several laughing Czerka workers.
“If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I can’t make him,” He mumbled. “This whole drinks thing was never a good idea.”
“Right,” Shadra snorted. “Admit it, you were looking forward to this. So was Lyman. In his, you know. Grumpy sorta way.”
“Whatever you say,” Atton replied wearily. “I’m headin’ outside for a while, get some space. I’ll be back soon.” He headed out the door before she could object.
-----
Atton was pretty certain he’d been there for almost an hour, but he couldn’t be certain. At some point, he’d lost track of time, leaning over the railing and watching the people milling about below.
Smoking was strictly prohibited on the Kazic III Restoration Outpost. Atton had started ignoring that rule almost as soon as he’d arrived, and he wasn’t going to pay attention to it now.
Several people had tutted on the way past, or told him to put it away. They’d all been silenced and sent hurrying away with glares, and Atton couldn’t quite figure out whether they were just all particularly meek or if he was being particularly scary. He suspected the former.
“Smoking’s banned here.”
The dark-haired Czerka man from earlier. Atton frowned, watching him out of the corner of his eye. He grinned toothily at Atton, lighting his own cigarra.
“What d’you want?” Atton sighed.
“Introductions first - M’name’s Keever. Thought I’d offer you a job. Invite you back to my quarters to discuss wages and all that stuff.”
“Don’t reckon I’m fond enough of Czerka for that.”
“Whoever said,” Keever turned to him, putting out his cigarra on the railing. “That I was offering you a job with Czerka?”
“I just assumed - ...”
“Don’t.” Keever stepped towards him.
“Right,” Atton folded his arms, cocking his head slightly. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Whoever you work for, I’m not interested.”
Cheerfully: “Want to come to my quarters anyway?”
Atton snorted to himself.
“Kriff off.”
“Right,” Still cheerful. Keever took another step towards him. “Got to be up bright and early to get rid of Czerka, right?” He took another step forward. Something glinted in his sleeve.
“That’s about it, yeah,” Atton smiled brightly. “Got a problem with that? Y’shouldn’t, if y’don’t work for Czerka.”
Keever shook his head gravely.
“Doesn’t mean Czerka’s not paying me. Pretty hefty payment, too,” He took another step towards Atton. “Listen carefully, Jedi. I could just about afford to let you go if this thing with Czerka goes through, but if you start interfering and causing trouble, I’m going to have to resort to Plan B for getting my cash. Which is alright for me,” He grinned broadly, hand moving forward to grab Atton’s shoulder, gripping it painfully. “Plan B’s a whole lot funner and bloodier than Plan A.”
Atton raised one hand, lightsaber glinting in it, switched off.
“Y’might want to let me go.”
“Yeah,” Keever raised an eyebrow. “Or I could shove you over the railing and be done with it.”
Atton grinned broadly.
“Trust me, you’d be dead before you tried. Only reason you’re not already’s because I can’t be bothered to dispose of y’body.”
The grip on his shoulder loosened slightly. Keever appeared to consider taking a step back.
“Something going on here?” Lyman. The bartender was behind him, carrying a gun large enough that it would’ve made Mandalore think twice, Atton noted wryly.
Keever stepped back, snorting and heading away silently. Once he was out of sight, the bartender nodded silently, heading back into the cantina.
Lyman folded his arms, staring slightly to the left of Atton’s head.
“Shadra’s gone home. Got fed up of us, I think.”
“And you stayed?”
Lyman gave Atton a sharp look.
“I haven’t finished my drink, that’s all. Don’t start getting ideas.” He paused, looking away again. “And you haven’t even touched yours, so you might as well come in and finish it. Waste of money, otherwise.”
For a moment, he looked like he was going to head back inside. Instead, he just stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring at a shop on the other side of the room.
Atton didn’t reply for several moments.
“Sure,” The ease was forced. The smile wasn’t. “No sense wasting money, right?”
“Right.”
Back in the cantina, they finished their drinks in the same uncomfortable silence they’d been drinking in for the rest of the night.
Atton didn’t mind, too much.
Both Atton and Lyman nodded silently, gulping down their drinks. Atton gave Shadra a sheepish look, only to look away again when a withering glare was directed at him.
Shadra sipped her drink, looking between the two irritably.
“Somebody say something.”
No sounds were forthcoming. Atton looked up from his drink nervously, peering at them both. Lyman was staring down at his drink intently, and Shadra was prodding him in the arm.
“Say something, nerfherder,” She snapped at him. “Or you’ll be sleeping on the sofa for years.”
Lyman glared at her, tapping his fingers on the table for a moment before shoving his chair back and standing.
“I think I need something stronger. Next round’s on me.”
Atton pointedly refused to watch him as he headed over to the bar. He kept his eyes fixed on a nearby Gand, inhaling cyanogen from a small tank.
“You could make an effort too, you know. Neither of you’ve even tried talking,” Shadra tapped his shoulder impatiently. “And that Gand’s going to start getting suspicious in a moment or two.”
Atton promptly shifted his gaze to rest on several laughing Czerka workers.
“If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I can’t make him,” He mumbled. “This whole drinks thing was never a good idea.”
“Right,” Shadra snorted. “Admit it, you were looking forward to this. So was Lyman. In his, you know. Grumpy sorta way.”
“Whatever you say,” Atton replied wearily. “I’m headin’ outside for a while, get some space. I’ll be back soon.” He headed out the door before she could object.
-----
Atton was pretty certain he’d been there for almost an hour, but he couldn’t be certain. At some point, he’d lost track of time, leaning over the railing and watching the people milling about below.
Smoking was strictly prohibited on the Kazic III Restoration Outpost. Atton had started ignoring that rule almost as soon as he’d arrived, and he wasn’t going to pay attention to it now.
Several people had tutted on the way past, or told him to put it away. They’d all been silenced and sent hurrying away with glares, and Atton couldn’t quite figure out whether they were just all particularly meek or if he was being particularly scary. He suspected the former.
“Smoking’s banned here.”
The dark-haired Czerka man from earlier. Atton frowned, watching him out of the corner of his eye. He grinned toothily at Atton, lighting his own cigarra.
“What d’you want?” Atton sighed.
“Introductions first - M’name’s Keever. Thought I’d offer you a job. Invite you back to my quarters to discuss wages and all that stuff.”
“Don’t reckon I’m fond enough of Czerka for that.”
“Whoever said,” Keever turned to him, putting out his cigarra on the railing. “That I was offering you a job with Czerka?”
“I just assumed - ...”
“Don’t.” Keever stepped towards him.
“Right,” Atton folded his arms, cocking his head slightly. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Whoever you work for, I’m not interested.”
Cheerfully: “Want to come to my quarters anyway?”
Atton snorted to himself.
“Kriff off.”
“Right,” Still cheerful. Keever took another step towards him. “Got to be up bright and early to get rid of Czerka, right?” He took another step forward. Something glinted in his sleeve.
“That’s about it, yeah,” Atton smiled brightly. “Got a problem with that? Y’shouldn’t, if y’don’t work for Czerka.”
Keever shook his head gravely.
“Doesn’t mean Czerka’s not paying me. Pretty hefty payment, too,” He took another step towards Atton. “Listen carefully, Jedi. I could just about afford to let you go if this thing with Czerka goes through, but if you start interfering and causing trouble, I’m going to have to resort to Plan B for getting my cash. Which is alright for me,” He grinned broadly, hand moving forward to grab Atton’s shoulder, gripping it painfully. “Plan B’s a whole lot funner and bloodier than Plan A.”
Atton raised one hand, lightsaber glinting in it, switched off.
“Y’might want to let me go.”
“Yeah,” Keever raised an eyebrow. “Or I could shove you over the railing and be done with it.”
Atton grinned broadly.
“Trust me, you’d be dead before you tried. Only reason you’re not already’s because I can’t be bothered to dispose of y’body.”
The grip on his shoulder loosened slightly. Keever appeared to consider taking a step back.
“Something going on here?” Lyman. The bartender was behind him, carrying a gun large enough that it would’ve made Mandalore think twice, Atton noted wryly.
Keever stepped back, snorting and heading away silently. Once he was out of sight, the bartender nodded silently, heading back into the cantina.
Lyman folded his arms, staring slightly to the left of Atton’s head.
“Shadra’s gone home. Got fed up of us, I think.”
“And you stayed?”
Lyman gave Atton a sharp look.
“I haven’t finished my drink, that’s all. Don’t start getting ideas.” He paused, looking away again. “And you haven’t even touched yours, so you might as well come in and finish it. Waste of money, otherwise.”
For a moment, he looked like he was going to head back inside. Instead, he just stuffed his hands in his pockets, staring at a shop on the other side of the room.
Atton didn’t reply for several moments.
“Sure,” The ease was forced. The smile wasn’t. “No sense wasting money, right?”
“Right.”
Back in the cantina, they finished their drinks in the same uncomfortable silence they’d been drinking in for the rest of the night.
Atton didn’t mind, too much.
