TK-627
Hellbent Daddy
The noise of at least 20 different voices and languages rocked the bar with swearing and laughing. Some were gambling, and some were talking about some extraordinary story that was most likely a fib. Still, he had a crowd of people standing around him listening closely. Many of them were in awe, but a select few were shouting at the man to shut up and keep his lies to himself. Relentless, the man continued to tell his story; growing in intensity as it reached its climatic point.
Across the room, there was a bulky, older man sitting at the bar. He had engaged in a conversation with the bartender as he shined and cleaned the glasses with a cloth. The customer's face was heavily scarred with red patches from previous burns. A black patch covered his right eye, but he was smiling and laughing; ruining his wretched physical appearance. He accompanied his words with his hands. They moved as he spoke and illustrated his speech for the bartender absentmindedly.
"I couldn't believe it myself. It came down like..."
The bartender continued to listen. His gut poked out over a belt, and his shirt was crisp and clean of any dirt. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his smile was that of a happier man. The two of them continued to speak for a while as the older customer ordered drink after drink. Quite often, he shifted around in his chair. His shirt had come untucked from his constant motion and exaggerated illustrations of his story as he spoke to the man fixing his next drink.
A little while later, the man paid the bill he owed and then some, and stood up from the barstool. He mentioned his last joke to the man as he stepped away from the counter and told him he'd be back some time again. Outside the bar, there was an array of small starfighters and freighters sitting in a pattern resembling a pile of rocks. There was no order. You just had to hope somebody didn't land too close to you.
The old man stood outside of the bar for a while. Occasionally, other men walking out of the bar would shove past him; swearing at him for being in the way, but he didn't move. Seemingly ignoring them, he continued to hum something to himself; eyeing some of the ships.
Across the room, there was a bulky, older man sitting at the bar. He had engaged in a conversation with the bartender as he shined and cleaned the glasses with a cloth. The customer's face was heavily scarred with red patches from previous burns. A black patch covered his right eye, but he was smiling and laughing; ruining his wretched physical appearance. He accompanied his words with his hands. They moved as he spoke and illustrated his speech for the bartender absentmindedly.
"I couldn't believe it myself. It came down like..."
The bartender continued to listen. His gut poked out over a belt, and his shirt was crisp and clean of any dirt. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his smile was that of a happier man. The two of them continued to speak for a while as the older customer ordered drink after drink. Quite often, he shifted around in his chair. His shirt had come untucked from his constant motion and exaggerated illustrations of his story as he spoke to the man fixing his next drink.
A little while later, the man paid the bill he owed and then some, and stood up from the barstool. He mentioned his last joke to the man as he stepped away from the counter and told him he'd be back some time again. Outside the bar, there was an array of small starfighters and freighters sitting in a pattern resembling a pile of rocks. There was no order. You just had to hope somebody didn't land too close to you.
The old man stood outside of the bar for a while. Occasionally, other men walking out of the bar would shove past him; swearing at him for being in the way, but he didn't move. Seemingly ignoring them, he continued to hum something to himself; eyeing some of the ships.
