Need for Speed [Wol]

[Mara]

[...from It's a Gamble to One Up]

He sat slumped at the bar in one of the spaceport city's many cantinas, simultaneously nursing an ale that was no longer cold and slicking sweat off of his face with his free hand. Saleucami was generally a pleasant world, the underground geothermals supporting abundant life in the calderas brought on by early meteor strikes in the planet's history. But by a roll of fate, Pak had happened upon it during the hot season, when the heat from the vents became almost unbearable and turned the oasis into a sauna. However, his passengers had paid him well, and he was currently running through those credits, trying to cool off while getting his relaxation started. Everything was a tradeoff, after all.

The Balosar finished off his current drink and signaled the Wroonian bartender for a new bottle. On a second thought, he raised two fingers, doubling his order; by the time he finished his next one, he'd want another. Better to stay ahead in this game. Pak generally would have moved on to hard liquor by now, after using something soft to generate a bit of a buzz and mellow him out, needing to keep his demons at bay.  But this sweltering environment, made worse by the lack of windows in this establishment, was changing his routine, making him order the only thing that was kept iced: a local ale. Readily available and cheap. Comfort trumped everything else; and with some luck, he'd just pass out from heat exhaustion before the memories swarmed him.

When the blue-hued man slid his bottles in front of him, Pak immediately grabbed both of them and pressed the duo against his forehead, tucking them under his shaggy mop of hair. He sighed as the cold vessels hit his clammy skin and reveled in it. The moment was short-lived, though; soon, the cooling effect disappeared, warmed up by his body temperature, and no longer did him any good. With a shrug, he set them back down on the bartop and popped off the cap of one. And tipped it back, guzzling down half of it almost right away. Had to stay hydrated, right?

[Wol]

Blending in with the locals was one of the spider's favoured activities it seemed. Whether it came with dress, confidence, or stories out of his rear.... Today it was attire. Garbed in a light, canvas-like robe that reached well down to his knees. A thick leather strap slung across a broad, hunky spider chest. The desert get-up all made complete by a cloth draped over his shiny bald head in the same fashion as a keffiyeh. Long trails of stiff cloth reaching nearly down to mid-back. The alien must have at some point come across a buzzard, for the ridiculous fellow had himself a headdress of sorts crafted of hastily plucked wing feathers. Telling the spider he looked like a complete goof probably wasn't the most intelligent thing to do either.

Surprisingly enough, the robe was helping when it came to the heat. Although by this point Wol had sand in his boots, up his robe, in his smallcloths and in places he would not care to describe. Ferrocrete was comfortable to walk on. So were the majority of cityscape walkways. Sand, though ? This was nightmarish. Aqualish were far more comfortable to the cool, watery realms, and mister spiderman had very quickly come to the conclusion that sand just.. sucked.

His entry to the cantina came with much gusto. Nearly throwing himself into the threshold with a gasp for what he hoped might be climate controlled air. Unfortunately, the gun slinger looking fellow was met with little more than the stifling, musty warmth of common establishments. Growling out some nonsense phrase in his native tongue, the spider made to quickly collect himself from the stumble through the door. Smaller pair of eyes darting about, as the larger pair still worked at focusing with the change in lighting. The place wasn't so terrible looking.

In passing on his way to the counter, beady little black eyes found themselves focusing on the Balosar nearby. Or more importantly, the antenna. Could he .. ? Should he ? .... Oh yes. It had to be done. A single finger stuck behind his tucks to slime the digit up with saliva.. and as he passed the Aqualish fiend was taking a rather abrupt stagger step right up close to Pak. Aiming to shove the slippery finger as far down one of those cranial appendages as he could. An antenna wet-willy. All complete with the most lewd "Shhhhlk." he could vocally produce.

Whether the spider was successful in his harassment or not, moving along on his way was most certainly in order. And like it had never happened, hands would both be drawn within the confines of his robe to take a second staggering step to return to his original course, and make getting to the bar his primary objective.

[Mara]

Pak set down his second bottle of ale, emptied almost as quickly as the previous one. While he waited for the blue barkeep to return to him--the Wroonian was busy; the bar counter was filled to capacity with beings needing a speedy refreshment--he slid his arm across his forehead, soaking up the fresh sweat that had poured out. Grabbed the neck of his tunic and flapped it, trying to generate at least a little bit of a breeze to cool himself down but to no avail. He was seriously considering social propriety as he idly looked towards the open door. Maybe no one would really care if he just stripped down right here in the cantina...

But then he throw out the idea. Getting locked up in a stuffy and tiny jail cell would only make the situation worse where his personal comfort was concerned. At least here, there was a slight whiff of air whenever someone ended the cantina. Perhaps a better decision would be to just order a bunch of alcohol to go and lug it back to his ship. Crank his air scrubbers to the lowest temperature possible and lounge in his underpants while he got drunker and drunker and eventually slept. Or maybe just punched in some coordinates to an ice world so he could roll around in the snow. It had a certain allure to it, most definitely. And Pak found himself smiling to himself.

Finally the Wroonian bartender set down his two ales and immediately went on to his next customer. Pak nodded his thanks and reached for the bottles. Before he could press their blessed coolness against his clammy skin, though, he felt something. Well,  more like, sensed something with his antennapalps. The Balosar was actually a little surprised they were still somewhat functioning, what with him suffering what could only be the first effects of heat stroke or something worse. There was some intent behind him. Not of malice, exactly... but not completely benevolent either.

He reversed motion and let the bottles fall back to the bartop as he tried to focus in more through the heat haze. Concentrated on the being whose emotion he was picking up through his 'palps. Pak couldn't discern specifically what the danger was, if it was even danger and not just a change in the aura around him. For some reason, he was just getting something jovial, perhaps prankster-like, not anything violent. And because he was exhausted from the heat and his trip and beginning to feel the alcohol coursing through his veins, he wasn't necessarily angry. Just... curious.

Spinning around on his stool, he faced his would-be joker. At the same time, retracting his antennapalps back into his head; they would be almost useless to him while so placed, but Pak didn't figure that in this cantina he really needed to worry about anything too drastic occurring. Everyone was too hot to do anything but drink and mop themselves off. Standing there was an Aqualish, a finger poised mid-air. Allowing himself a crooked smile, he raised his brow and asked in a friendly voice, "Can I help you with something, friend?"

[Wol]

The Aqualish had aimed, fired and.. missed with a complete lack of grace. Slimy finger very likely skimming across the side of Pak's face as he whipped around and stood, rather than plunging into the intended target of the palp hole. Off balance, and very nearly loosing his footing. The Aqualish went stumbling, and was nearly taken out by a nearby stool. "Ahem."

His recovery was by no means graceful either. Clearing his throat and straightening like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Hands to the lapel of his poncho so that he might straighten the garment out as best as he was able. A few pats to dust off the his chest and shoulders, and the feathers stuck into keffiyeh preened back with a gentle pull of fingers. "Nope. No. Negatory. All is well."

Or at least that was what should have been, and remained the answer. "I just want to.." Drawing loose fists up to his shoulders, to unfurl and clench fingers several times against his palms. ".. Squeeze your adorable little antenna things." By the odd gestures the spider was making, he likely wanted to milk them too. The heat must have been getting to him..

The spider wouldn't be lingering for terribly long however. Continuing on the half dozen steps it took to reach the counter. Fetching a free stool for himself to collapse down onto, and go right about melting across the counter. Leaning his upper body heavily onto what was an unsatisfyingwarm surface. "Beer would do nicely." Suggesting to the Wroonian with hesitant offerings of coin.

[Mara]

He watched, amused, as the Aqualish stumbled backwards, almost falling with the surprise of Pak having turned around. Catching him mid--what, the Balosar wasn't sure. The four-eyed being answered that he was fine and didn't need anything as he recovered his balance. Perhaps it was just a case of mistaken identity, this one trying to surprise a friend in a cantina. But when faced with Pak, he realized he had the wrong man and now was trying to recover his dignity and embarrassment with the whole matter as if it hadn't happened. No harm, no foul, Pak thought. It was too hot out to think anything else.

"All right..." he answered with a nod, waving off the encounter as immaterial. A bit of a diversion to keep his mind off how uncomfortable he was as the sweat pooled under his clothes. But then after a quick smile to the other being to show that no damage was done, he made to move back to face the bar once again and return to his original business and forget the Aqualish. His ales were warming up with every second, drops of condensation pooling on the bartop. If he had any chance of drawing out any cooling liquid that was left, he best get back to them as soon as possible.

Pak was halfway through the motion when he caught the Aqualish's further words and froze. He blinked. The Balosar knew he wasn't even near drunk yet, not on these weak Saleucami ales. But maybe he was suffering the beginnings of heat stroke. Because did that being just say he wanted to... touch his antennapalps? Squeeze them, even? That was certainly something he had never heard before, and he had been to quite a few places around the galaxy. Maybe this guy wasn't playing with a full deck or something. And coupled with the sweltering temperatures was going out of his head.

Clearing his throat, he rotated on his stool again to try to respond to this... explanation. "Uh..." However the Aqualish was already on his way past, pushing his way to the bar, and Pak shut his mouth. He shook his head as the strange being sat down and ordered a drink. Pak sighed to himself. The sooner he could get off this planet the better, he thought. Not only to get away from the heat but away from crazy beings affected by the climbing temperatures of the giant caldera-created sauna that he was residing in. Grabbing his bottles of ale, one in each hand, he proceeded to knock them down. They were warm, but it was better than having someone's grubby hands finger his 'palps. Pushing down a shudder, he he gestured at the bartender for more.

[Wol]

It would take only a few moments to acquire the requested beer. Trading coin for drink. When the glass bottle was secure within his clawed hands, the Aqualish was faceplanting straight into the vessel. Fully intent on engaging in some awkward sort of osmosis with the glass. Merging with the cool liquid within. Unfortunately, and much to the spider's disgust and horror, the beer was warm. As warm as the room itself, and one of the least satisfying things the spider could come up with at the moment. The spider had paid a visit to the cantina the night before. And by the looks of things had caused some amount of issue. For the Wroonian met Mr Spiderman's upset with a crude grunt of amusement, before moving away to attend other duties.

Despite the hefty disappointment that had gone washing over Wol, the spider would linger right where he was for some time. Mashing glass to face, and very slowly gaining an appropriate expression to match his emotion. Solid black eyes narrowed, and the elevated bridge where a nose might have been in the centre of his face wrinkling with an ugly look of hate. Clawed hand reaching up to snag the top edge and feathers of the keffiyeh he wore. Tugging that slowly forwards and off in the most defeated manner. Although spiders did not sweat, the few wiry hairs that grew at random on the top of his bald head were suddenly released to spring forth. Standing up straight, and giving him more or less a bedraggled, unkempt appearance.

Not to fear though, for there existed several other glasses of ale dripping with condensation in the room. It was a slow turn that the spider did upon his stool. Spinning, like he might have been some evil genius greeting a visitor as he turned to face Pak. Warm, and likely stare beer abandoned on the counter with steepled fingers and claws under his chin, resting just behind the point of tusks. "So..." Beginning as though he were about to expel a glorious proposition. "What will it take, to get you to share one of those cool little beauties ?" Querying of the antenna'd fellow. Eyeing up those bottles of ale like they were tender pieces of meat.

[Mara]

If he hadn't known better, the Balosar would have thought he was gradually melting, his fat and muscle breaking down beneath the skin. The only thing keeping him from becoming an oozing pile of goo being his clothing, which, as loose as he was wearing them, weren't much of a barrier. But instead, he was just sitting there on the barstool, sweltering and sweating, feeling his energy ebb out of him as every moment wore on. His plan to get a few drinks to fortify him before making the trip away from Saleucami seemed less attainable in his current circumstances than it had before.

He sighed heavily and used a hand to swap away the moisture accumulating on his brow for the thousandth time. Adjusted his posture on his seat so that not as much sweat would drip uncomfortably down his lower back and into his trousers. But it was difficult to maintain the upright stance with his flaccid demeanor, and he soon slouched over the bartop again. Thankfully, though, the Wroonian returned then with his refill. Pak dug into his pocket and pulled out some more credits. Nodded his thanks to the bartender and immediately grabbed the bottles of ale and pressed them against his face. Relief was fleeting but it was still relief.

Pak didn't notice right away that someone was speaking to him. Not that the cantina was especially loud; in fact, it was uncharacteristically quiet, all the patrons seemingly too hot and tired to bother with any ruckus. But he was just so exhausted that it was taking more strength than usual to perform the usual tasks. And right now he was using all he had to keep cool and pour alcohol down his throat. That is, if he could get the darned cap off. Their cooling properties having worn off, the Balosar was attempting to crack the ales open so he could drink them. However, with all the humidity, his fingers were slipping off before rendering the task effective.

It was then that he heard the voice, his brain sufficiently warmed up from the nuisance of the bottle cap. A familiar one, to boot. The Balosar glanced over to his side, seeing the Aqualish of earlier staring him down. Apparently eying the ales he had recently purchased. Pak just blinked at him for a moment, digesting the words. Thinking to tell the being to mind his own business. Instead, all he could say was, "Not so cool anymore, pal..." And then, thinking himself clever and not at all like he was giving in to the brute's request, "But if you can get 'em open, I'll give you one for your trouble."



(((Apologies for the wait!)))

[Wol]

Well aware of the disgruntled and unpleasant minor details Pak was displaying, the Aqualish was easily used to such things and chose to pass them over with little to no regard. Friendly fellows were a significant minority in those the spider chose to associate with. It was almost surprising that the Balosar spoke words other than insult. Hairless brows loft skyward, and Wol was quick to lift a hand from under his chin to wave in dismissal. Shaking his head slowly in the same motion. "Cooler than mine. Will trade you a sip for an uncorking." And by sip, he meant the entire beverage.

"Here, hand it over." Twisting about to drag his keffiyeh off the bar counter as he stood. Striding the short distance over to Pak's table in a slow, labourus fashion. Like he was five stone heavier than he ought to be, and made of things like gelatine and mush. Extending a hand out to receive one of the capped drinks. With the assumption he'd be given the bottle, Wol would be collapsing down into the seat across from the Balosar. Taking a few moments to adjust himself to a casual lounge. Light coloured cloth of the keffiyeh tossed over the top of the bottle, and Wol would go about wrenching the thing open with as much effort as required. Letting the cap hit both table, chair and the floor all in turn. Victory chug would shortly follow.

"So what in the name of a Sarlacc's tail are you doing in a place like this ? It's too hot here. Not normal to go on vacations in heat like this." Querying with a capricious blink of all four eyes. Curious perhaps only for the purpose of knowing just how to view and judge this antenna'd fellow.

[Mara]

"Have at 'em." Pak slid the two bottles over to the Aqualish, not in the least surprised that the being had accepted his offer. Or that he had to push them a couple more times in order for them to make the whole trip down the bar, weak as he was with the heat, to his new 'friend'. "Maybe your luck is better than mine," he added with a vague wave of his hand. Hoping he would get one of his ales back, despite the way the guy had been eying them this whole time; he had the feeling that if he hadn't put up one of his ales, the Aqualish would have found a different way to get his hands on one.

He watched idly as the other being made quick work of the bottle caps. Glanced vaguely down at his own hands that had failed and then shrugged it off. The Balosar knew little about the Aqualish as a species, and maybe they were just stronger, above-average in the power department. Pak didn't really care. Especially when, happily enough for Pak, the other returned the second bottle back to him, while also coming over to seat himself closer. However, Pak only had eyes for the alcohol and proceeded to lift it to his mouth and gulp it down. A little warm already but refreshing enough.

Momentarily satiated, he mulled over the other's question. After all, the guy had helped him out; it would be rude to ignore him. He at least owed the Aqualish a few minutes of his time, some friendly chitchat. Maybe it would help keep his mind off how his trousers were slowly melding into the barstool. And who knew? Maybe he would make a friend or at least a business contact. Stranger things had happened to Pak in cantinas.

The Balosar nodded, pushing wet hair out of his eyes as if to prove his companion's point. "It is, isn't it?" He finished off his bottle of ale then, and stared at it forlornly for a moment before pushing it aside and raising a finger to the bartender. Things just didn't last as long as they used to, he sighed to himself. But then looking back to the Aqualish with his full attention, "No vacation for me... I'm here for work, actually. I'm a pilot," he added.

[Wol]

The spider counted himself as a veteran bar lurker, and luck was seldom a thing to consider in bottle caps. The only luck involved there, was the little messages under the cap in some brands. For a gambling man, the hope that there might be something profitable written there, ontop of the hope there was messages at all, that had the spider quickly stooping to scoop caps off the floor to give a quick glance over. Nothing. Perhaps it was strength that had seen the caps off so easily. The Aqualish was a fairly burly individual. More likely, the fact that his palms were not wet with sweat.

Unfortunately, returning either of the drinks were not high on Wol's list of priorities. He most certainly would not be sliding either of the drinks back to this new found friend. The Balosar had offered them as gifts, as far as the thieving spider was concerned. The second would remain close at his elbow, while the first was partially hidden behind tusks. Without a straw, drinking from a bottle was a pain in the rear.

"A pilot, are you ?" Making a point of downing the first ale as quickly as possible, only for the point of conveniently reaching for the next, should Pak make any attempts to retrieve it from Wol's side of the table. "Likewise. Also a pilot. Well.. taxi. First class ship, best in the galaxy. Most comfortable interior there is." Gesturing rather quickly between the two of them across the table with the bottle of ale.

[Mara]

Of course. Why wasn't he surprised? This guy was a pilot, too... No matter what cantina Pak found himself in, high-class or low-class, backwater planet or metropolitan hub, the Balosar always seemed to attract the same types. Pilots, spacers, those making a living on the fringes of the galaxy. Perhaps it was because the watering holes he always drank in where the ones closest to the spaceport and to his ship. And maybe that was why those kinds of beings ended up being his temporary conversational partners. Whatever it was, it was too damn hot to think more about it.

Instead: "Oh?" he asked, innocently, raising his eyebrows a bit. "Is that so?" putting a bit of faux-genuine disbelief into his tone. As if it was a pleasure to meet someone in the same line of work as him and not at all something that happened all the time. Seriously, all the time. "Nice to meet someone else who prefers the skies and stars over these dusty humid rocks." Pak took a moment to glance around his surroundings and again move some of his sweat-licked hair off his forehead before turning back to his companion.

But at the Aqualish's praise of his own ship, Pak just had to smile, a smile that was just slightly mischievous and a bit crooked. "Best in the galaxy, you say. Must be quite a ship, buddy." He could care less about what the interior of this alien's ship was. The only thing inside a ship that was important to him was its engine, its hearts. Everything else was just dressing. "Especially since my ship is the best in the galaxy." Winking and reaching for the new bottle of ale the bartender had just slid towards him.




(((So sorry for the delay...)))