Candy is Dandy, but Liquor is... LET'S DO SHOTS!

[Meira]

One by one, systems shut down as the weight of the ship settled onto the landing struts. Mercifully, nothing was beeping or flashing or sparking or otherwise causing alarm. The Jewel was finally at rest once again. Sure, she needed many repairs, but that was nothing new. What mattered was that they were away from Taris and the death that had almost claimed them all there. With a sigh, Palas locked up the controls to the ship and swiveled the pilot's chair around before dragging herself to her feet.

After the shock and horror of finding that giant insect in her cabin, she and the crew had managed to confine it to the cargo bay. What damage it had done in there during the flight, she had yet to find out. Whatever it was, she was just glad she'd be opening the cargo door and never see it again. She'd made it very clear. If it kept good and quiet, she wouldn't jettison it into space. She thought it'd understood her. In any case, she'd managed to bathe and sleep some during the transit without hearing any overly disturbing noises from the hold. That was a win in her book.

No more. After this, she'd be done with strangers and stowaways. It was all becoming too much for her to handle. Some she still had unfinished business with. Lash, the schutta, was still tied to the spice they'd inadvertently stolen from that Hutt. Now that she was sure he was still alive, she wanted to make damn sure he didn't die before she could squeeze every credit she could from his pathetic corpse. Yunas had helped them a great deal. She'd let go of her doubts as to his intentions during the escape. Yunas was doing what he could to prove he had no hand in the unfortunate turn of events on Taris. And Palas had been famously cross with him. She would need to make that up to him somehow. Doc... wasn't going to stay. It saddened Palas to know he would be leaving her again. But Doc was old and this life was simply becoming too hard on him. He'd told her not long after they jumped into hyperspace. He'd be leaving, and he was taking Kess with him. That was likely for the best.

Glem and the droid were a different story. They'd each done their part in the escape, but Palas felt no obligation toward them beyond arriving at their destination safely. They would likely leave, or maybe they'd want to stay. Palas wasn't sure what she thought about that. She supposed she'd just cross that bridge when she got there. For now, all she cared about was a stiff drink. Or twenty. She passed Doc on her way to the room and made sure he'd take care of getting rid of the bug. She grabbed some credits from her stash and made her way off the ship.

At the landing dock, she pondered waiting for Lash, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized all she wanted to do was wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze. It was probably better she didn't see him just yet. So she turned and stalked out of the docks and toward the thumping sound of terrible music. She didn't much care for the music Zeltrons listened to, but she quite liked their tastes in alcohol. She could forgive the former with enough of the latter coursing through her system.

The club she found was dark, crowded, and very loud. Loud enough that she didn't have to listen to herself think. She made her way to the bar and signaled for a drink. The red skinned man came over and set a shot glass on the counter, then produced a bottle full of a glowing green liquid. Before he could pour the shot, Palas stopped him, dropped some credits on the bar and took the bottle from his hand. Scooping up the shot glass, she stalked off to find a booth somewhere out of the way. She was in this for the long haul.

[Mara]

[…from Jailbirds]

As a precaution for the pending landing, Trevil had gone forward to strap into one of the crash couches. Though they were no longer being chased and shot at, he wasn’t planning on taking any chances. Recent history had taught him that, as well as a life on the run. He had taken his main datapad with him, knowing that the whole process would take at least an hour or so, from orbit to atmosphere to eventual setting down on Zeltros. And so, he was sitting there, working through a program on the device and waiting for the telltale signs that the Jewel was once again at rest for the time being, putting its crew at leisure.

* * * * *

It had been a fairly uneventful trip through hyperspace to Zeltros, he thought, all things considered. And really quite refreshing after all the excitement of what had unfolded the past day or two. After Trevil had been awakened from Kess’s room to help—or rather, stand by and watch—herd the giant bug thing into the cargo hold and lock it in, he had felt safe enough in heading back to his own quarters for some much-needed personal debriefing and relaxation. He had felt like a tightly wound coil during all the chaos on Taris, and now he finally had a chance to breathe and relax and start trying to regain some sense of the fragile normalcy he had enjoyed before it all.

Trevil had spent a good share of the days-long transit in his small cabin aboard the Jewel. Almost upon entering, the Bothan had collapsed onto his bunk and fallen into a deep, dreamless, restorative sleep, all the tension slowly melting away. Later when he was feeling himself again, he had turned his attention to his confiscated datapad to make sure it hadn’t been tampered with. He had scoured it thoroughly file by file but to his great relief hadn’t discovered any evidence of hacking. His backup had been secreted away again in its hidden pocket in his trousers once he had sewn it back together.

Throughout all the time spent in his cabin, he had also been lost in thought about their destination, his former team, their heist, and what the implications could be. Trevil hadn’t seen his ex-partners face-to-face in a couple years, not since that last meeting in his apartment on Bothawui. During the actual job, he hadn’t been onsite, watching the other four through the bank’s security cams as they had performed their roles. And when he should have encountered them again, he hadn’t; they had cut him out of the take, changing the rendezvous point. But now that he was on his way to Zeltros, he couldn’t help but go back to that moment...and his need to get even.

Vassia had been their diversion in the bank, using her Zeltron pheromones and empathy to distract while the two human thugs had rounded up the customers and employees with help from their Rodian inside man. It had been quite some time since. Might the woman have gone back to her homeworld of Zeltros? Trevil wasn’t sure if she’d be that stupid or careless, but he had to think of the possibility of running into her once the Jewel landed. He couldn’t actively search for her—he was still a wanted being as far as he knew and had to continue his low profile—but he could definitely keep a sharp eye out for her familiar face.

Any time he hadn’t spent holed up alone in his small quarters, he had spent with the others, mostly the girl Kess. Especially once he had found out that she would be departing them once they made landfall on Zeltros. Though he had grown found of her during the short time they had been together and would miss her presence onboard, he did agree with Palas’s choice in letting her go with Doc. Considering all they’d been through, and what could come to pass, the Jewel was not the right environment for a young former slave recently rescued of her master. And Trevil knew Doc would take care of her; despite his rough exterior, he could tell the older Kiffar was a softie inside.

He had played a few games with her in the ship’s lounge, at times one or more of the others joining in. The Bothan had given her use of his datapad, and together they had taught her the rudiments of pazaak and even a little sabacc as well as some more kid-friendly diversions. At her request one day, he had even told her stories, at first reading them to her and then gradually reciting a few tales from memory of his childhood back on Bothawui. These generally had ended with Kess nestled up against his furry side, asleep, and were the moments Trevil treasured the most. It was strange to think so, but the Jewel’s caretakers were gradually becoming a second family for him.

* * * * *

Hearing the soft thuds of the ship putting down, Trevil waited out a few beats before putting aside his datapad and undoing his webbing. Standing up, he stretched, his fur ruffling in the pleasure of relieving sore muscles. He picked up his ‘pad and strolled back to his cabin to get anything he may need for walking the streets of Zeltros. Inside, he strapped on his small coin purse under his tunic and tucked the datapad away in a pocket, double-checking that his backup one was still hidden away. Doing a last-minute check of his person, he noticed Palas walking past his room looking like a Twi’lek with a mission.

Keeping his movements casual, he finished up his preparations and closed his cabin door behind him. His earlier conviction to come clean to the Twi’lek captain was forefront in his mind as he departed the Jewel. Thoughts of her and the others as his new family had only reinforced this. Trevil had considered waiting until they were all gathered together, but when it really came down to it, Palas was the only one he really owed anything to. Doc and Kess were leaving the crew, and Lash probably wouldn’t care either way. And the others—the crazy long-eared being and the droid—they didn’t figure into it at all as far as he was concerned.

Stepping off the ship, he headed through the spaceport and past other ships, his ears twitching this way and that as he tried to figure out which way Palas had headed. Trevil had already said his farewells to Kess and Doc, unsure on whether he would have returned in time from his mission to speak to Palas to do so, and so had tied up all his loose ends but one. Out on the street, he finally spied a pair of purple head-tails making their way through the crowd outside. Taking a deep breath to steel himself for what could very well turn into a confrontation, he pushed his way into the mass of various beings and followed the Jewel’s captain at a conservative distance.

She ducked into a building from which a thudding din was spilling out. Trevil stopped at the entrance, eyes on a glowing sign in various languages, his fur swirling away from his body in agitation. This was not the type of environment he generally patronized. But Palas had chose it, and so after another moment’s hesitation, he passed into the club. His violet eyes scanned the large room where a large diversity of bodies were engaged in what he could only hope was some form of dancing but was mildly disturbing to him. Off to the side was a bar and some darkened seating.

Nerves checking in, the Bothan almost spun and hurried out of the club, but he kept his focus. He spotted Palas then, departing the bar with a bottle, a determined look on her purple face. Seeing the alcohol, his mind clicked through a couple of choices: continue with his original plan and face the consequences of interrupting her drink with his news or wait until she had had a few drinks and then break the truth gently to her. Weighing these, he decided the latter would be the best option. Trevil was sure he could wait an hour or two, convinced that Palas wouldn’t be doing any moving any time soon.

So, making note of where she was sitting, he looked for a diversion of his own. Though he’d prefer to leave the noisy club behind, he wanted to still keep an eye on Palas in order to find the best time to come up to her. Off to the other side of the room, his violet eyes rested upon a staircase. Following it up, he discovered that the club had a second floor that looked out onto the dancers below. It seemed a bit less crowded up there with patrons of a significantly higher age but no less rowdy than the beings down in the party and bar area.

Curious, he walked closer to see what was going on. Halfway up the stairs, he heard a familiar shout that perked up his ears. A sabacc table! Almost giddy, he hurried the rest of the way up as fast as his stout legs would carry him. Trevil saw now that the entire second floor was a betting being’s dream, filled with tables offering sabacc, pazaak, and other various games of chance. He walked over to the nearest sabacc gathering, thinking just to wait a bit while he waited for Palas to lose a bit of sobriety. But subconsciously, his hand went to where his credit stash was secreted away against his torso as he looked over the players: a male Zabrak, a male Duros, a male Advozse, a female Theelin, and a human woman. Maybe he would have time just for one game…

[Jenno]

The journey to Zeltros was pretty dull. Despite the adoration Lash held for the fighter he was currently in, he liked having access to the other facilities on the Jewel. After the near-death experience and then a dose of combat, he was quite motivated to go and do something with his life, but unfortunately he was confined to this small compartment. Once the adrenaline had dissipated, the pilot passed out, he hadn’t released quite how tired the entire ordeal had made him.

He woke up quite some time later, and felt quite refreshed for the rest of his journey to Zeltros. He’d received the Jewel’s landing coordinates and set down the fighter nearby. However, it wasn’t so close that his pants-only attire avoided turning some heads. Instances he took as compliments.

When he made it to the ship, that big beautiful pile of scrap, he quietly made his way onboard and to his room, and was fortunate enough to not be spotted by anyone. He made sure to take a long shower and didn’t leave until he was sure the smell of that garbage heap was no longer clinging to him. And then, finally, he was wearing a full set of clothes. It felt so warm and refreshing.

He knocked on Palas’ quarters, but it seemed like she and the others were either not around or asleep. Apart from Doc, who curtly informed him that he and Kess were about to leave for good. Lash tried to convince the old man to go for a drink with him first, maybe after a few bottles of something strong they could weep about the heartwarming friendship they had developed. The man turned him down, so he wished them both well in whatever awaited them, especially little Kess, he’d miss her, but she had her whole life ahead, maybe he’d bump into her again at some point.

After his encounter with the two departing crew members, Lash definitely felt the need for a drink. Since he couldn’t spot anyone around, it seemed as though he’d have to just make some friends at whatever bar he wound up in. The first place he came across had some music on pretty loud, and some lovely locally hued women walking in. This was the place for him.

Once at the bar he found a seat and ordered a double Corellian whiskey and asked one of the lovely women nearby what a good shot to have around these parts was. She indulged him with an answer so he ordered one for himself and one for her. Then her friend chimed in and being the gentleman he is, he bought her a shot as well. They soon got to talking; they were some interesting locals who apparently came to this place for a few drinks before a fully fledged night out. Lash was nodding, smiling and drinking for a little bit before he spotted a lonely purple twi’lek sitting off in a corner. Seems like he wasn’t the only one who needed a drink.

Wishing the women a good night, and telling them they’d totally see him out and about later that evening, he excused himself and with a fresh drink walked over to the table and sat down. “I know, I know, I look like I’m from the moons of Iego, you don’t have to say it, I hear it all the time.” His grin showed hints of the alcohol taking affect.

“Honestly Captain, I save that lovely butt of yours and all I asked in return was for you to buy the first round. Then I come across you here, half a bottle deep, where’s the parade for my heroic deeds, the love for my bravery. Oh, Palas, you didn’t write a song did you? That would be fantastic, I’d love to hear your rendition.” He enjoyed both his teasing statements and the taste of his drink as he took another sip.

[Dutch]

It was perhaps lucky that Palas had not noticed Ruck further down the bar. The Gar had attracted quite a crowd around him at the far end of it. Already a bottle down, he had arrived before anyone else. The smells of heat, drugs and booze easily drawing him into the bowels of the club. It seemed Ruck had found kindred spirits in the Zeltron people, the crowd cheering as he clacked his jaws and mandibles around a full bottle before tilting it back to chug it with no hands. His olfactory tentacles curled and played over the bottle with delight at the strong heady liquid. After it was drained Ruck chomped down onto the bottle, devouring the glass as the Zeltrons around him cheered and screamed in surprise. A roar of approval bellowed from them when it was clear that Ruck's species was able to handle eating glass. Ruck whooped and threw a hand up in the air in approval.

"Oh. My. Gods. I can't believe he just did that!"

"He just drank an ENTIRE bottle of Hapan absinthe like it was nothing!"

"What is he anyway!?"

Ruck barked a laugh and signaled for another bottle, another chorus of cheers resounding from his fans. He turned to one of the female Zeltrons with a coo, and proceeded to open the bottle with a bite to the neck. His antennae waved suggestively as he began to pour some of the beverage for her and her friends. They giggled and Ruck clacked his jaws in approval before he downed the rest of the bottle.

"TWO bottles! How does he do it!?"

"Finally, an alien who can handle their liquor!"

He laughed and slapped the last Zeltron to speak on the back. The man flew face first into the bar, colliding with an audible whack! before the poor guy slumped to the floor. He was out cold. His fans laughed, and Ruck bellowed with joy. Ancestors did he need a night out after the massive panic episode that had went down on the ship. Naturally Ruck would have to return there, having left his weapons stowed within a wall panel that he had torn away. Plus despite it all, he did feel bad for releasing his spawn all over the Twi'lek. He should probably apologize. Later.

"So what's your name man? You are a man, right?"

The Gar snorted with laughter, his tendrils rising and falling with each one. He nodded emphatically and turned bleary eyes to the Zeltron girls from before. Ruck flexed his arms.

"Handsome Ruck is MOST man!"

He bellowed in response, his mandibles working in amusement. Perhaps he would spawn with them later. Perhaps he would spawn with all of them later. That would be good.

"Ooo... and does Handsome Ruck want to dance?"

Ruck paused, his eyes bulging as he stared at the girl who asked. Several moments of intense silenced passed. Ruck stared at her. She and her friends stared at Ruck with drunken, confused expressions. He stared. They stared. Until suddenly Ruck slammed both hands down onto the bar, the force causing all the drinks near him to splash and clink.

"Ruck LOVE dance!"

With that Ruck leaped away from the bar. With a couple bounds he was on the dance floor, giving it his all. Right in the middle of the crowd he moved, arms together as he rotated and thrust and whirled. It wasn't long before a circle began to form around the Gar, now on his shoulders with legs spinning in the air as he whipped them around. His hands propelled him back to his feet before they lanced out to grab a Zeltron woman in electric blue club wear. Pulled onto his leg another began to saunter closer, Ruck slid himself and his first girl over to this one in glowing purple. With a girl grinding against each leg Ruck threw his hands up with a series of joyful whooping noises.

"RUCK IS GREATEST IN ALL OF WORLD!"

[Meira]

She was reclined in the booth, legs stretched out along the padded seat and her back against the wall. One arm rested along the back of the seat, the other was laid across the table top, fingers drumming lightly to the beat of the music. She'd downed two shots already, rapid fire, and she could feel the alcohol beginning to work into her system. It spread warm through her bloodstream, giving her limbs that blissful heavy feeling. She could linger here, tipsy, for the whole evening. She could keep her head, and her stomach, and not hate life in the morning. Her eyes glanced up to the bar. There, with two local girls, he sat. His eyes also glanced upward and met hers. Nope, she thought as she poured another shot. Tipsy wouldn't cut it tonight.

“I know, I know, I look like I’m from the moons of Iego, you don’t have to say it, I hear it all the time.”

She chortled as he sat, shaking her head at the man. He continued to speak, lamenting her lack of proper tribute at his daring rescue of her... did he just call her butt lovely? Palas shot Lash a sideways glance, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

"Trust me," she said, raising her glowing shot glass up in a silent toast to him, "you don't want to hear me sing."

Palas downed the drink, with only the slightest grimace as the alcohol burned her throat. Setting the glass down, Palas hooked her fingers into her mouth and blew a sharp, high pitch whistle as a waiter passed by not far off. Close as he was, he almost didn't hear her over the music. When he made his way over, Palas asked for another bottle of... whatever it was she was drinking, and another round for Lash as well.

"You're right though." she said as she leaned back and poured yet another shot. "How about I make it up to you. The rest are on me." And Palas smiled. For the first time in a long while, longer than she cared to remember, it was genuine. Sure, the drinks were fueling it. And, were she sober, she'd likely be shooting things. But this was preferable to all that, and each drink made the next feel like the best decision she'd ever made in her life. So why stop a good thing? She held her glass in front of her, eyes focused on the glowing liquid.

"I thought you were dead." she said, perhaps more to herself than to him. "Thanks for...you know, not being dead." she downed the drink and set the glass on the table.

[Mara]

(((I did do some research on sabacc on Wookieepedia, but if anyone notices a mistake, please point it out to me so I can correct it. Math is not my strong suit. ;p)))


“Begin,” came the bored mechanical voice of the small dealer droid from the middle of the sabacc table. Trevil scanned his hand quickly: the seven of staves and the two of coins. Only a nine—a far cry from the needed 23. But winning sabacc was a process, one that almost made him giddy and unable to control the movements of his fur. With his large Bothan paw, he reached into his pouch and pulled out two 50-credit chits, tossing one each into the hand pot and sabacc pot. He then pushed the seven face-down into the inference field and waited to see if his two would shift into something better…

When he had first arrived to the gaming area above the club,he had watched the five players of various species work their sabacc magic—or lack thereof in the case of the Advozse—for awhile, having immersed himself into the small crowd that had gathered around the table. The Theelin woman attired in a bright yellow cocktail dress and adorned with a shock of spiky green hair had been winning the majority of the hand pots and thus had garnered the largest following. However, as time went on, one by one the other player had gradually folded out of the game taking their admirers with them, starting with the frustrated Advozse. Soon, only the Zabrak male had been left playing against the female Theelin, and even he had conceded after a few more hands.

Trevil had eyed her with interest and not a little bit of professional admiration throughout the game as the Theelin had slowly worn her opponents down. He had been trying to decipher if she was influencing the game somehow, cheating to give herself an advantage. Such was outlawed, of course, but dishonest players would manage to slip through the cracks if they were good at what they did. Not that he didn’t believe she had natural talent with cards; one needed to obviously know sabacc first before manipulating it to one’s desires. But he had been watching her hands during the others’ phases, and having pushed the legalities of the game himself once or twice with his slicing knowledge, he thought he had spotted a fellow cheat.

But it hadn’t mattered; after the Zabrak folded out, the Theelin had quickly hidden away her winnings and left the table behind. Trevil had watched her disappear into the crowd of gamers but then had turned his attention to more important matters. The seats at the sabacc table he had been recently shadowing were filling up again, and he wanted in. Nabbing a chair to his left, he had settled in comfortably. It was only after that he realized he had sat in the number one spot; he would have to bet first. He preferred to make his moves after he had observed the others, but still, he wouldn’t complain. Sabacc was sabacc, and he hadn’t been involved in a real game in months.

As the dealer droid had reset the table and shuffled the cards, he had placed both paws on the tabletop in front of him and let his fur ruffle as if in nervousness. He had smiled sheepishly at the others around him,furthering the act. For the most part, the other players had ignored him, readying for the intensity of the game ahead. On his right was a bluish Twi’lek male who kept twitching his lekku; on his left a female Bith sat still as a statue. To the right of the Twi’lek a Chadra-fan stood on his chair seat in order to see the table, and to the left of the Bith lounged a scruffy human male whose eyes betrayed his interest. The biggest surprise to Trevil was the female Quarren sitting across from him; the Bothan hadn’t seen one in person before, only in holos.

Finally, there was the telltale shimmer, and the two of coins in his hand changed into the Queen of Air and Darkness. He kept a look of delighted neutrality on his muzzled face as internally he groaned. Adding in his original seven, now the value of his hand had dropped to five; Trevil's hand had lost after the shift. But he refrained from drawing, wanting the others to think he was happy with the way his hand stood. And so play turned to the Bith female on his left, and he started calculating his next move, depending on what the next shift hand in store for him. As well as keeping himself from relying on the secret weapon hidden away in his trousers too soon.

[Jenno]

“Oh, I don’t know,” he responded, raising his own drink to meet her toast and downing what remained, “a couple more drinks and you could have the singing voice of a holostar.”

As his freshly poured, and now free, drink arrived the somehow-saviour was rather enjoying the company of this tipsy twi’lek, those vibrant memories filled with punches were getting quite hazy now. “Thank you Captain, if this is how you spoil everyone who saves your life then let’s make a habit of it, I do enjoy free liquor. Though maybe the can be less falling next time. And more clothes. Or less.” He grinned and tucked into his new beverage, it tasted strangely smoother than the last few.

He took this opportunity to look around as he enjoyed his drink and the heavy beating of the music. The place was quite full, packed with all kind of pretties, like the two lovely ladies whose company he’d graced not too long ago. It seemed like they weren’t too impressed with some potential wooers, some people just lacked his gifts.

For a moment Palas’ words struck him with a sense of fear as he briefly recalled the fall. Luckily the feeling passed. “To be honest Captain, nobody was more surprised than me when I woke up. It’s not how I thought I was going to go. But then again, I’m just glad you’re not dead either.” He smiled; it was warm, decent, lacking the usual features of his grins. All too quickly he felt compelled to bury himself in his drink once more.

“What is that toxic green liquid you’re decimating?” He took hold of the bottle and examined it for a moment; he poured her another shot with it and then took a quick swig from the bottle itself. The bottle was instantly back on the table and Lash was exhaling with an intense look of distaste. “What the frell is that!? It tastes like the engine of a fuel tanker!” He grabbed his drink and almost tried to breathe it in. “I can still taste that sithspit in my mouth; you certainly have an odd taste there Captain.”

[Mara]

After two cycles around the table, two shifts, and two more bets tossed into the pots, play had returned once again to Trevil. He had so far steadfastly held onto his two original cards, always hoping the one card in his hand would shift into something that would finally complement the seven of staves he still had in the containment field. It was a bit of a risk to play this way, with all the other players likely wondering if he had something up his sleeve, not bothering to draw a card for a better chance at making sabacc like they had been doing.

This time, Trevil forwent betting, furthering his strategy to throw the others off-guard. Then the Bothan looked toward the droid as if to request a card but sat back and indicated he was finished. His violet eyes looked down to his single card, currently a three of flasks. It shimmered a moment and then switched into a new card: the ace of sabers. He had to really work to keep his fur from ruffling in delight, looking casually to the Bith on his left as she begun her next turn. With his seven and the ace, his hand was now worth 22, one point away from pure sabacc. If no one else was close to 23 when he called, and the ace didn't change again before he did, he'd win.

However, he waited through the Bith's betting and drawing, as well as the turn of the scruffy human, and two shifts that failed to change his ace into something worse. Even now, Trevil didn't want to appear too eager to call his hand. But time seemed to drag on as the sweat dripped down between his shoulder blades, soaking his fur and the inside of his tunic. And there was always a chance that he could wait one value shuffle too many and be shunted back to the bottom as far as his hand was concerned.

"Call." The Bothan spoke up once play had turned to the Quarren across from him, and she had placed a few more credits into the hand pot and sabacc pot. It had been long enough, and Trevil knew he would be chancing fate if he held on any longer. He laid down his ace of sabers on the table in front of him and then reached for his card inside the containment field. Turning it over, it was revealed as his seven of staves. All the others unveiled their own hands. A quick scan, not to mention a few groans, showed that everyone else had either bombed out or was way too low.

As the droid formally toned that he had won the hand pot and started picking up the cards for the next game, he caught the human male nodding almost imperceptibly at him in appreciation. Trevil returned the gesture as he scooped the credits eagerly towards him and begun dropping them into the pouch of money secured at his waist. He couldn't believe he had won, and in his first round, too! And he hadn't even had to resort to cheating yet. If things continued this way, he might be able to make a pretty credit this evening. The Bothan had to restrain himself from rubbing his hands together as he had seen some humans do when they were excited about something.

Instead, while the dealer droid shuffled the cards in preparation for a new deal, he reached down to his leg to scratch an itch that was suddenly bothering him. Perhaps a result of his earlier perspiration permeating everywhere and matting his fur. He absently looked out over the dance floor while he did this until he saw something familiar in the middle of it all. His eyes narrowed in focus as he concentrated at the mob of beings, the center of which was--he blinked. The strange insect he had shared a cell with on Taris and which had also stowed away on the Jewel was down there, apparently partying hard.

Before he could reconcile this strange new information and what it could mean, if it did mean anything, the blue Twi'lek next to him stood and yelled, pointing at him. "Cheat! Cheat! Security! Security!  He's cheating! Someone call security!" Apparently thinking that Trevil's gaze down-level was somehow a communication to a partner he was using to work the game into his advantage and not just an absent gaze to fill the time between deals.

Trevil immediately moved his hand away from his leg and his hidden tool and his eyes widened to the size of moons as he turned back to see the other players staring at him. The Bothan came to his feet, and his defense, quickly, knocking his chair over as he did so. "You--you've got it wrong. I didn't cheat. I won fair and square." He looked over to the human, hoping for an ally, but his words fell on deaf ears. As the droid tried and failed to restore order, the Quarren pulled something out and flicked her wrist; it was a switchblade. And in the distance he saw a couple of security officers zigzagging around other tables, their gazes focused on him.

Panicked, he spun and fled back to the stairs. His actions obviously aided in the assumption of his guilt, but he had no other choice but to run. Trevil couldn't be caught, arrested, anything. Not now, not ever. Notwithstanding his innocence in this matter, he was already a wanted being on Bothawui for the bank heist he had pulled with his ex-partners a few years back. The prison on Taris had been terrible enough, despite the misunderstanding that had brought him and the others there. And he had resolutely decided his first time locked up would also be his last.

He stumbled down to the ground floor level, dodging around partying beings and trying not to fall. His heart pounded in his chest, and he almost thought he could feel the guards' breath on his neck, along with his accusers, so much was his fear of capture. Once down, he risked a look back; they were still at the top of the stairs, but the mass was easily parting for the officials. Trevil knew he had to hurry up and figure something out, or it was all over for him. This new start with the Jewel and Palas, the Bothan had just started feeling relaxed and at home again. And now it could be all for naught.

With new resolve not to let that happen, he looked around him quickly, searching for a distraction, something to trip the guards up. Again, his eyes drifted towards the dance floor and the swarm of beings around the giant insect who seemed to be having a grand time with all the attention it was getting. In an instant, his memory clicked back to Taris, so fresh in his mind now. An idea sparked him as he looked down at his boots, remembering Lash's whining as the huge thing had eaten his precious footwear.

Trevil bent over and tugged, yanking his boots off his stocky Bothan feet, knowing he had precious seconds to set things in motion with enough time for him to get away. Cocking his arm back, he let one boot fly out towards the mass surrounding the big bug with all the strength he could muster. At the same time, he yelled, "Hey, you hungry?" hoping to break through the thumping music and get the thing's attention. He waved his other boot enticingly and then threw it in the opposite direction, just past where his pursuers were at the bottom of the staircase.

Hoping against all hope that the strange alien would still have a taste for stinky footwear and didn't just prefer Lash's tasty sweat but not waiting to see if it worked, he bolted towards the exit of the club. His calloused Bothan feet cushioned his running steps as he wove through the crowd on the edges of the dance floor. Trevil skidded into the street, using the line of beings waiting to be admitted as momentary cover while he decided which direction to head in. Once he was safe, he could try to think what this would mean for his future with the Jewel and deal with any consequences. But for right now, he just needed to evade capture...

[Meira]

The eternal beat of the music was finding its way into her bloodstream, matching her heart to its incessant rhythm. In the dark, the beams of colored light that danced with the revelers seemed almost surreal. Or maybe it was the drink. The way she seemed unable to focus on any one thing for more than a moment or two had Palas thinking it was indeed the drink. She smiled. That heavy feeling, which had started in her elbows and knees, had progressed. Now her fingers and toes were tingling and Palas lightly bit at the inside of her cheek to confirm her suspicion. Her goal for the evening had been reached.

Lash spoke, drawing her eyes back toward him as he returned her sentiment and smiled. When had his face stopped triggering her desire to punch things? It must have been a recent development. The shared look lasted only a moment before the two diverted their eyes in a burst of silent discomfort.

She watched, amused, as Lash inspected her chosen poison for the evening. That amusement doubled when he gave the drink a try. The look on his face was priceless. Sitting up and turning so that she sat facing him in the booth, Palas lifted the shot glass he’d filled for her. At first, her eyes studied the glowing liquid, but eventually glanced upwards to meet his as he tried to rid himself of the taste his sample had left in his mouth.

“It’s a Ryloth specialty.” she said in reply, her lips stretched wide in their smile. “Not for weak stomachs.” She took another sip, but stopped with the glass just at her lips. Violet eyes had caught movement across the club; not the rhythmic gyrating of dancing bodies, but the abrupt and desperate flails of a chase.

The subjects soon became clear at the foot of a staircase and Palas' eyes widened in recognition. "Yunas." she breathed, barely audible. At the top of the stairs, security guards were trying to catch up. Her startled eyes widened still as Yunas removed his shoes and threw them. A glance to the side brought Ruck into view and she realized the Bothan's intent.

"I'll be..." she said, sliding from the booth, "right back." As she moved away, she signaled a waiter for another round. She was going to need it.

By the time Palas had made it through the throngs of revelers, Yunas was out of sight and the guards were barreling outside. She was never going to make it to the door Yunas had used in time, so she changed course, spotting another exit door.

Racing toward it, Palas burst outside into the cool air, the door swinging and connecting with the nose of one of the security guards. The man fell to the ground, out cold. Palas barely had a moment to process this when another guard pushed around the door. She shot the heal of her palm upward, connecting with this man's nose and dazing him for a moment. Her other arm moved to block as the guard swung a baton. She cried out at the flash of pain it sent through her, but brought her knee up hard into his groin. The man crumpled as she twisted the baton out of his hand and struck it hard across his cheek. He fell to the ground unconscious.

Gasping, Renata turned. This exit was around a corner from the other doors, and much more isolated. Just a few paces ahead, she saw the Bothan. "Yunas!" she yelled. "Mind telling me what the frak this is all about?" she gestured toward the unconscious security guards at her feet.

[Mara]

After he had ducked out of the club and into the crowd in front of the door, Trevil had resorted to his animal instinct. Running past them, he used the line of beings to shield his presence until he could find a way to disappear. Only then would he be able to stop and think about what it all meant for him and his future, with or without the Jewel. Though he knew he should have gone on farther to put some distance between himself and his pursuers, he had instead slipped quickly around the corner of the building. The thought being that a crooked, zig-zagging path was better than a straight shot.

He had gone about a dozen meters down the cross street when he heard a shout. The Bothan panicked, fearing that the guards were on to him a lot sooner than expected, and so his steps sped up. But then the actual voice, all-too familiar to him, and the words it was saying penetrated his adrenaline-addled brain, and he slowed, his bare feet finally coming to a standstill against the duracrete. Everything inside of him screamed for Trevil to get a move on before he was captured. Not that he would ever believe that Palas would turn him in; the Twi'lek captain was merely delaying him from getting away.

Still, he found himself turning around to look down the street at her. And moving a few paces back in her direction. Trevil didn't give the unconscious beings at her feet more than a second glance. His mind was whirring, wondering what the purple Twi'lek was doing there, following him. And wondering what he was going to do about it. He knew he owed her a great deal, for taking him in and for trusting him after the Taris debacle. The Bothan's fur rustled in agitation, and his ears flicked back and forth in uncertainty.

There was no time to get into details, but Palas did deserve an answer. She was standing there  staring at him, confusion mixed with impatience and probably a good deal of other emotions. He held up his paws with his palms facing out in a gesture of goodwill. "I can explain. Honestly. Just not right now. I really have to get out of here. Please... you just have to trust me." Trevil glanced around his surroundings; so far, he was undiscovered, but that could change any moment. "I will comm you when I can. I...I have to go." Without a further word, he turned his back on her and broke into a run, heading down the street and then dashing around another corner. And he was gone.

[to The Truth is Out There...]

[Meira]

((The following post was cowritten by myself and Jenno))

Palas reentered the haze and noise of the club, her torso still heaving slightly from the sudden effort. Her head was spinning, but she was entirely aware that she was not nearly drunk enough to deal with everything that had just happened. Happily, she spotted the waiter walking toward the booth she and Lash had been occupying with her drink. Intercepting him, Palas traded the liquor for some credits and collapsed back into the booth across from Lash. Without a word, she poured herself a shot and downed it, making only the slightest grimace at the burn. She rolled her head around, stretching her neck and did the same with her shoulders before looking back at Lash. Her eyes studied him for a few moments until she seemed to make a decision. Pouring another shot, she spoke.

“I have an idea.” she said, setting the glass of glowing liquid on the table between them. “Have you ever played a game called ‘Never Have I’?”

Lash eyed his captain curiously, a little bit of glowing alcohol and suddenly she was all for fun and games. “It’s been some time since I played, but I remember the rules well enough. I just hope you’ll be able to keep up, Palas.” He was interested to see in what direction she would take this game.

“Keep up?” Palas laughed, but said no more, deciding instead to make Lash own up to his boasting. “Lets see.” she said, drawing the words out as she thought. Tapping her chin with a slender finger, Palas narrowed her eyes at the man. After a moment, a smile began to spread across her lips. “Never have I…” she was already sliding the shot glass toward him, “left a planet without my shoes.”

Grinning wickedly, Palas leaned back in her seat, propping her feet up on the bench across from her and next to Lash. She tapped the toes of her boots together, lifting her eyebrows in encouragement. It was a cheap shot, but all was fair in games of Never Have I. The game wasn’t much fun if you didn’t play dirty.

Luckily, Lash didn’t mind people playing dirty when it came to drinking games, after all his intention in taking part was to get as drunk as he could, and since he wasn’t paying for the drinks, everything was great. He rolled his eyes at Palas, raised his shot and drank. Okay, maybe he still wasn’t used to the vile and violent flavoured drink they were using for their game, but at the end of the day, alcohol was alcohol.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, “well if that’s how you’re going to play then so be it.” He poured himself another shot. “Never have I been rescued, more than once, by an occasionally brave and actually quite charming pilot, whose skills I barely recognise to his face but who is in fact probably one of the best pilots I’ve ever met. In fact the only reason I don’t treat him with any respect most of the time is because despite my attempts to fool myself into believing that he infuriates me, deep down I know that all his aforementioned charm and bravado instead endear me towards him and that is what actually infuriates me.”

With a sprawling grin, Lash raised his shot, toasted into the air and downed the liquid. “Well, I mean, I have saved my own life before on a couple of occasions.”

She shook her head, but couldn’t stop the smile and soft chuckle as Lash took his turn. After he’d drank to his own challenge, Palas allowed a pause to hang between them, as if she might not take a shot as well. Her mouth turned in a slight, thoughtful frown as her brows furrowed, as if to say no, doesn’t ring any bells. But then she smiled again, pulling her feet down and sitting up. She took the bottle and upended it, filling her own shot glass. The bottle thudded as she set it down, then lifted the small glass of glowing liquid.

“A good man.” she said, holding the glass up in toast. “To Hunt!” she said, tossing the shot back and setting the empty glass on the table. “He really was charming, now that you mention it.” she said with a wink.

“Ok, lets see.” she said, not bothering to explain who Hunt might have been. “Never have I…” her voice trailed off as her bottom lip was drawn in between her teeth in thought. Her eyes wandered, hoping to find some sort of inspiration in their surroundings. The darkness of the club, coupled with the flashing and dancing colored lights made it hard to focus on any one thing. And maybe the alcohol wasn’t exactly helping either.

Back at the bar, two figures caught her eye. The same women Lash had been talking to before he invaded her booth kept stealing glances in their direction. When they saw Palas watching them back, they tried their best to send her menacing glares. That didn’t really work, but it did remind her of something. A glance back at Lash had her fairly confident. She reached for the bottle and filled his glass again.

“Never have I slept with a Zeltron...” As she suspected, Lash began to raise the shot glass to his lips which held a self satisfied grin. Just as he was about to drink, Palas added “...man.”

Lash paused for a moment, caught off guard by Palas’ lingering word, which had now completely altered the scenario. He thought for a moment, staring beyond the dim lights of the club into the hazy memories of his past. His eyes snapped back into focus, mostly, and he smiled, raised his glass in a solitary toast to Palas and drank. Lash put his glass on the table. “To Hunt! What a guy!”

He stifled a small cough as the warmth of the alcohol bubbled within his body. “Alright Captain, I see how you’re playing this game now. Here I am being polite, allowing us both to enjoy some… good liquor and you’re just using it to take advantage of me. But just you know, I won’t stoop to your level.”

Wasting no time, Lash topped up the drinks again and mulled over his thoughts. “Never have I… opened up about something personal to one of the Jewel’s crew.” He smiled and took hold of his own glass. “I bet you weren’t expecting that shift in direction now were you.” Another toast, another shot down.

Palas rolled her eyes, but did not deign to retort. Instead, she simply lifted the glass, dipping her head in a silent resignation and downed the shot. The small glass slipped from her grip, sliding a few inches across the table as she set it back down. Rather than fumble for it, Palas let it slide away. The last four shots or so were starting to make themselves known. A delightful numbness was creeping over her. It had indeed been some time since she’d let loose like this. And with a crew member, at that. Hunt really had been something special. She smiled, her eyes distant with the thought, but she shook the memories away, reaching for the bottle… which she found to be woefully empty.

“Now that just won’t do.” she said, sliding from the booth. “Stay right there, fly boy.” she said to Lash with a wink. “We can continue this new direction with another bottle.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

Her balance was off slightly as she turned to make her way to the bar and Palas found herself almost toppling to the ground with the Zeltron waiter as he passed. His hand grasped her elbow, helping her to right herself. When she was stable, he looked her up and down and gently took the empty liquor bottle from her hands.

“Maybe you’ve had enough, sweetie.” he said, a gentle smile on his face.

“Maybe you should mind your own business, sweetie.” she shot back, her own smile smug. She shoved past him, making a beeline for the bar. The waiter followed in her wake, gesturing to the bartender not to serve her. When he did just that, Palas slammed her handful of credits on the bar.

“Vo’chien!” she spat. “My credits not good enough for you?”

From his comfortable position Lash had enjoyed the spectacle of Palas’ unsober self stumbling around. But as his gaze followed her to the bar, he saw how things were playing out, and he’d been in enough bars to know when the drunk twi’lek was a few words from getting tossed out onto the street. Luckily he wasn’t quite so drunk as Palas, at least not as obvious about it, he liked to think.

He made his way to the bar, threw on his charming smile and offered a quick thanks to the bartender. “Don’t get your lekku in a twist Cap’, let’s head back to the ship, I’ve got a couple bottles stashed away, we’ll see how much of them we can drink before one of us passes out.” Despite the protests, Palas knew that they weren’t going to get served here. She gave the bartender an obvious look of distain, but allowed Lash to guide her away and toward the exit. The two left, but not before Lash extended one last longing look towards those lovely ladies from earlier.