Jump to content

  • Log In with Google Sign In
  • Create Account
Photo

When life gives you whiskey...

- - - - - Bar thread Do whatever Open

  • Please log in to reply
3 replies to this topic

#1
Desmond C'artyom

Desmond C'artyom

    Space Jockey

  • Character
    • Character Bio
  • 798 posts

Desmond held tightly to his gut with one arm whilst with the other he atempted to guide himself along the side of the wall. He knew he shouldn't have trusted that damn Twi'lek, but something about her lekku made Desmond think she was bangable. Needless to say Desmond was wrong. She slipped something in his drink, but luckily he woke up in the same bar... Only now his credit sticks were gone. Desmond plopped down on the bar stool before the tender and with a thumb and a backwards jerk he pointed to one of the customers in the bar. He hadn't the faintest clue who he pointed too and didn't bother to look.

 

"Corellian whiskey... It's on him," Desmond said in his feigned alliance drawl

 

His head was killing him and he needed something to chase away the pain. The bartender simply shrugged and nodded. He and the Twi'lek were in cahoots and now he had half of Desmond's cash anyways... The bar Desmond lorded in was one of Coruscants many dives. With a name like the Drowned Hutt Desmond couldn't help but wonder, how much alcohol did this place have if they could drown a Hutt slug in it... It must've been a lot because the drinks were cheap and only tasted slightly watered down. All of this added together to make a very happy and drunk Desmond.

 

Desmond reached into his right coat breast pocket while the bartender turned to fix his drink. Thank the force for small mercies. The Twi'lek had left Desmond with his spice... He reached in and withdrew a deathstick. It was supposed to taste like booma fruit, but tasted more like dirt. Desmond didn't mind, he figured that's what he got for buying the cheap stuff. Never should've trusted that hairless Wookiee... He sighed as he stuck the stick between his lips and drew heavily from the drug. He was immediately gratified with a high that made him feel a little less crappy. Coupled with the whiskey it ought to be enough to see a once more happy Des back to his ship, where he would figure out his next slight of hand.

 

Then, reinvigorated by the spice he figured, why wait till he reached his ship? Why not look for potential suckers now. He spun round in his bar stool just as the whiskey was plopped down right next to him. Without acknowledging the bartender Desmond grabbed hold the drink and scanned the room. This earned a tch from the bartender, but he said nothing more. He had bigger fish to fry than the small time swindler.

 

The bar was dimly lit and dust clung tightly to the air. Great clouds of the stuff could be seen floating in the draft. The tables were plasteel and rounded except for the edges of the bar where booths were seated. A light was placed inside each booth so as to blind anyone nosy enough to try and look in. The floor was simple durasteel with a bunch of holes punched into it. Desmond figured the holes were there to help keep the drinks from sticking, but that didn't stop his boots from squelching every time he walked across the floor...

 

The crowd looked to be the usual rough sort, something that rubbed Des the wrong way. A few thugs in the far right corner playing sabac. A lone bounty hunter in the other, eyeing the thugs rather suspiciously. A group of spice fiends huddled around a booth, probably talking about where they're going to get their next score. Finally, the regulars. A group of nine to fivers who inhabited the lower levels of Imperial centers factories. It was from these pickens that Desmond had to choose from... He sighed, he didn't like his odds here. 

 

He looked to his holo watch and checked the time. It was almost happy hour, which meant a new wave of customers would be entering soon. Perhaps his mark would be among them...



#2
Rajo Sobek

Rajo Sobek

    Don't Sweat the Technique

  • Character
    • Character Bio
  • 57 posts

Can't stay for long...

 

The thought nipped fruitlessly at his conscience, too taken up by the allure of a cheap drink to even consider turning around. All he had to do was find the spot, and this grimy hole-in-the-wall would certainly do just fine. For him there was nothing to the name of a bar like this. Millions of them were plastered all around the galaxy and for all he was worth he could hardly think of any single one that had earned a solitary spot in his mind. Feth, he'd only remembered the name of his boss's place because it was where he got his credits. The thought of the man made him shiver. He'd been chewed out the other night for not keeping a tighter grip on his sector and yet here he was, going for a cider while he should be pummeling some deadbeats in the lower thirteens...

 

He stopped with one hand against the beat up metal door, scorn from a few bolts that had obviously hit years ago and looked over the back of his shoulder warily. 

 

Should he really do this? Was it worth the risk? He genuinely had no idea how thin the ice was underneath his feet, but who would know? He was at least three sectors over from the farthest reaches of the man's territory, and the guys usually didn't get much further than one... 

 

Feth it... He'd deal with the consequences later, now it was time to get a little lost. 

 

Pushing through the opening and into the dimly lit room, he glared at a few of the patrons that looked his way, staring more than one down before they'd all chosen to ignore him. There were a lot of aliens about, but that was to be expected in a place that the galaxy forgot. None of them looked particularly threatening... 'Sides a few of them in the corner that he couldn't quite put a name to. Besides, he hadn't the time to think about every alien race he'd seen in a day, and it certainly wouldn't do him any good to ask. He made for the bar without a second thought, passing a few patrons who seemed to have found the courage to mill about in with his entry. One of them, he'd seen, was a Chiss. Chiss had always struck him as one of the more normal looking things in the galaxy, and he was happy to have at least one near-human milling about. Looking his way for only a few moments, however, he'd soon pass and take his place on one of the old stools of the bar. It was hard and certainly well used, but he wouldn't mind that too much in a few moments. 

 

"Cider, thanks."

 

Desmond C'artyom



#3
Desmond C'artyom

Desmond C'artyom

    Space Jockey

  • Character
    • Character Bio
  • 798 posts
Desmond watched as a lone man entered the bar. Not particularly Desmond's first choice, but Desmond figured he'd probably be better than his last. The only problem with the human was that he appeared he could whoop Desmond's shebs, so Des would have to be extra sly. The human approached the bar and sat in a stool across from the Chiss. Perfect. Desmond downed his whiskey and put his deathstick out in an ashtray. Spinning in his bar stool whilst reaching into his pocket, he felt for a small one sided coin within and withdrew the cylindrical device. The whiskey's encroaching warmth gave Desmond a well deserved buzz and emboldened by the drink, he smiled at the bartender. 
 
"Gim'me an empty bottle and a piece of cork," Desmond said to the tender casually
 
The tender shrugged and retrieved the items, more than a little curious what the Chiss had up his sleeve. Handing Desmond the bottle and cork he watched as the Chiss placed the coin within the confines of the glass, then plugged it with the cork. Desmond smirked making sure the cork was snug and the dime trapped. Desmond stood from his bar stool and walked a slow, but peppy pace towards the human. The bottle lounged lackadaisically in Desmond's free hand and the coin clinked with every step.
 
Slowly the clinking of the bottle in the other wise quiet bar had gotten the attention of those within. Beady eyes peered out from booths or boredly watched from tables, curious as to what Desmond was to do next. He plopped down in the stool next to Rajo and smiled warmly in greeting at the man.
 
"Want to make some money?" Desmond said to the man between squinted eyes and lips parted in a large grin.
 
"20 credits says you can't remove that coin, first, from the bottle without breaking it,"
 
Desmond spoke again, this time he handed the human the wine glass and waited to see whether he accepted the Chiss's game. All eyes had now shifted to the pair, many were curious as too how the game was to be won and wanted to see the human beat the scoundrel at his own game. Either that or they were simply bored and wanted to see the Chiss get knocked out when the Human lost...
 

Edited by Desmond C'artyom, 13 August 2019 - 05:07 PM.


#4
Rajo Sobek

Rajo Sobek

    Don't Sweat the Technique

  • Character
    • Character Bio
  • 57 posts

Raj had been listening to the steady clink of metal against glass grow closer and closer before the Chiss ever spoke. Whatever the man had in mind, he couldn't help but suspect he wasn't coming over to make nice over a few drinks, but he wasn't really in any sort of mood to start a fight in this kind of dive. Wouldn't be the first time someone had seen fit to tell him he wasn't wanted somewhere, but he hardly expected it to happen so quickly. Before long he had to take note of that same blue skinned Chiss he'd first sighted from the doorway. 

 

His head turned lazily at the question, an unamused expression adorning the partly shrouded indents of his face in the dim mood-lighting. At first he was sure the man would ask for a drinking contest, seeing as how he was holding up a bottle and all, but sure enough he'd something more sinister in mind with that coin rolling about in it. It was a challenge. A challenge that seemed near impossible but one that was assuredly made to make a fool out of him until he bowed out and handed over his hard earned drinking money. A wiser man might have turned away such an offer, and Raj was dead set on telling the trickster to buzz off back to the other end of the bar... Well he would have been if he hadn't cracked that damn grin. 

 

Who the kriff was this guy anyways? It was always a wonder to him that people couldn't sit back and enjoy a drink in peace without going around looking for trouble. That was his job! If this no-good swindler wanted to run him dry by-way of an underhanded party trick, he'd been more than happy to show him up. 

 

As the explanation of the challenge went on, he couldn't help but raise a brow and feel the eyes of the other patrons drawn to them both like moths to a flame. It was a boring sort of night after all. Once he'd concluded, Raj was all to happy to snatch the bottle out of the meddler's hand, offering a smile of his own right back. 

 

"That all?.. Hope you like light pockets, friend." 

 

It was just then that he realized this might not be so simple. He looked up and down the glass for some sort of secret hatch or other convoluted trick that might allow the Chiss to easily con him out of his cash. Nothing on the top, nothing on the bottom, and nothing inside but the coin. While Raj was no stooge it only dawned upon him just then that he might have accepted the impossible. It would have been a boring way to end the challenge, and he'd hand over the chips over his cold dead corpse. 

 

His eyes flicked back to the alien, finding his smug grin sickening. He'd have to win now. Couldn't let the man have the satisfaction. 

 

It would be a solid few minutes before he'd come to any conclusion, but the blue-skinned con-artist would soon find a cool smile come across the face of his human opponent.

 

"I'll bet you think I'm an idiot. How about this then?"

 

Quite confidently, almost too confidently, he jammed his thumb against the cork and began to push it into the bottle with brute force. It slid down slowly at first, only truly beginning a quick glide once it picked up some moisture on the lower portion of the neck until it finally fell free into the depths of the vessel with a satisfying 'CLUNK' . That cool smile would soon turn into a sly smirk of his own design, reveling in what the imagined to be the ultimate defeat of the unknown trickster. Quickly upending the bottle, he presented the coin to the man for his own inspection.

 

"Believe that's twenty you owe me, mate." he'd chide, soon turning back towards his cider, quite certain that he'd won out.

 

 

Desmond C'artyom