AEDOLIS > Adstreia

[M]Quiet night out [Blink]

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Marjorie:

--- Quote ---Sexy things might happen in this thread. You have been warned!
--- End quote ---


Emrys worked for the Aerospace Exploration Diplomatic Agency... Officially he was an Interplanetary Diplomat. The redacted parts of his file would suggest he was actually a spy. He had worked as a field intelligence officer from the start of his carer. Interstellar strategic planning was right up his alley... he didn't actually design mission to capture or conquer other people's planets, but he did gather data that allowed the people who did to do their jobs. Want to know another government's military strengths and weaknesses, need info. that only a mole in a foreign nation can attain, or need a connection or asset on another planet to hook you up with access to people, places, and things... That's the sort of thing that Emrys supplied.

Today though, was not a day for that. He had come "home" yesterday, from a tour of near-by systems. In a few days he was going back to his other home in Haviah. He sighed, trying not to think about whatever recent trouble Bevyn had likely gotten into while he'd been away the last few months. That boy was a waste of air. At least Jilana was showing promise... maybe one of the younger ones would eventually develop the gift and he'd be able to add a third generation Pilot to the family.

None of that for now though. He tried to put it out of his mind as he turned the corner and headed down a side street. He was dressed too nicely for this part of town - it wasn't a sleazy area or one prone to crime, but he stuck out - looked too expensive for it, in a starched three peace suit. It was a light almost lavender grey suit with a tie that very nearly matched the sky-blue of his eyes. The color paired nicely with his ivory skin and the slight hint of blue in his otherwise blonde hair.

Emrys smiled faintly as he walked into the bar, visibly relaxed, as if someone had pulled out the stick that seemed permanently up his ass based on his posture. "It's been a while Emrys," the bartender said as he smoothed his hands across the polished bar top, "you hanging around for a while this time or just stopping over before your next hop off planet."

"Somehow," Emrys said, "I managed five days of leave and a short assignment back home in Haviah."

"Nice," the bartender turned slightly and picked up a bottle before raising it up toward him slightly, "whisky neat?"

Emrys nodded, and once the drink was poured, it was a double shot, he picked it up and scanned the bar for interesting or attractive faces. There was one, brunette in a corner booth. She was attractive in a toned-down kind of way, but he wasn't really looking at that at the moment anyway. He'd met Sparrow, or fellow Pilot Anderson, in passing before. He might as well say hello to her.

Graceful movements pulled Emrys' lanky frame across the small room, past a few other tables to Sparrow's table. He took a slow sip from his drink. "I hope the evening is treating you well," his voice was deep with a warm timber, and soft around the edges in a way that usually put people at ease without even giving them a mental nudge that he tended to when he wasn't on his home planet - a thing he'd never do here, and especially not to a fellow Pilot, without specific cause and real justification. "Would you mind some company?"

Blink:
Sucking on her tongue an unpleasant noise emanated from Sparrow’s mouth. It was hard to decide whether another glass would be in order or if she should just call it a night. From the moment she punched out she had been there, in that exact spot debating after every glass whether to just go home or stay for just one more. It was a vicious cycle of debate and self-discipline that Sparrow was failing at with each turn. Drinking at home was always an option but these days even her apartment just seemed too quiet. Except for Pixie’s gnawing on a spranger bone to count as background noise but even that faded into the lull of silence. There was always the option of hanging out with her squadmates after a long day to help curb the silence and from time to time Sparrow did just that. Today though was a minor change in scenery. Alone, but at one of the few hole in the wall places you would have to know Adstreia to know it existed is where Sparrow found herself tonight. And tonight, she planned to wholeheartedly drink until that silence at home was no longer going to bother her.

This wasn’t a pity party, or a woe is me drinking festival with only Sparrow as the sole attendee. This was her toast to being exactly who she was in and out. Sparrow lifted her almost empty glass as she clinked the air in front of her.

“I don’t give a fuck”, muttered under her breathe as another sip burned her throat. With lips pursed and transformed into a tense smile Sparrow lifted her glass once more, but only to signal a refill was due. Pixie who was always with her at every step, including in a bar, shifted under the table (that he barely fit under) to find a new place of comfort for his continued evening nap.

Once again, her glass was filled, and Sparrow went back to staring off into space as she mulled over the thoughts dragging and dancing along in the back of her mind. ” Breaking up with someone is supposed to make you cry, isn’t it? Am I supposed to cry or feel bad right now?” There was no denying the minor pain in her chest that still remained even after the amount of time that had passed. But it was a pain that was manageable, even more so by the lovely drink in her hand night after night. If anything she saw all of this as just one big lesson. There was no sense in beating yourself up over mistakes, only working towards never making them again. That was exactly what it was, just one huge mistake that she would never make again. It was a stupid impulse that put her job at risk and her own mental well-being in line to being messed with. Yep, he was the last mistake she would ever make in that department again.

The thought process was interrupted by Pilot Noble Broin approaching her table with his own glass of whiskey in hand. Pixie again shifted under the table to see the incoming potential threat only to lay back down after getting a whiff of the man he had seen several times at the flight bay. Sparrow looked him over and deducted he looked exactly how she had seen him many times before. Tall with hair the polar opposite of her own dark auburn mess. Even his suit made her look like something that had crawled from the sewers. Sparrow was sporting a black Hellion’s tank top and a pair of jeans with her less than tamed hair knotted into a bun or potential tumbleweed on the top of her head.

With a simple nod, Sparrow gestured towards the chair at the other side of her table. “Don’t step on Pixie’s tail or you might lose your leg.” She took another sip of her drink and then propped her elbow up to keep the glass near her face. “Or he may lick it like a lollipop. Who knows?”

In truth, Sparrow knew Pixie would never unless commanded to do so. Or unless he did something that made her feel threatened and Pixie acted on instinct. “So… why are you all dressed up like that for? Wedding? Funeral? Party? Creepy obsession with being perfect all the time? Or are you one of those people who dress according to their moon phase or whatever?” Her humor was dry and something she and her squadmates could usually banter back and forth with. Could Emrys handle it? Regardless Sparrow was determined to get laughs out of this. Whether he joined in or became the butt of her next joke was completely up to him.

Marjorie:
Polar opposites, yes, one could call them that. Not just in the way they looked, but also the way they acted, and the work that they did. Emrys had an Upper Cast pedigree and that dictated a certain amount of class and manners no matter where he was, least he ruin his reputation and social standing. Matter-of-fact, being some place like this would probably raise a few eyebrows around certain tables, if they knew he was a regular they would just laugh at the absurdity. He didn't care about that so much, but if he didn't keep up the appearance of how he acted in public it might cause him an issue. Beside how they acted, he was also a spy and she killed people. So yes, they were quite opposite.

Emrys chuckled softly at Sparrow's warning. "I wouldn't dare," he said, regarding the dog for a moment, then making a show of giving Pixie's tail a wide birth, before sitting down. His lips quirked up in a slight smile. "Creepy obsession with being perfect all the time," he shrugged, as if it aught to be obvious.

He put his hand down, for the dog to sniff, and then took another sip of his drink. "May I ask in return," he said a polite expression on his face, but good humor in his eyes, "why you're slumming it tonight?

Blink:
With the glass still at her lips, Sparrow took another swig as Emrys confessed to wanting to be perfect all the time. A corner of her lip curled upward at the thought of wanting to be that prim and proper all the time. The building smile was short-lived though at his next inquiry.

“Slumming it?” With a choke she finally set down the half-empty glass.

“This is the kind of place I prefer to be in. People who work hard and just want to relax after a long day come here. I have absolutely no want or need to go to one of those crazy busy nightclubs with irritating loud music.” Holding up a finger Sparrow continued. “Or one of those fancy pants places that shouldn’t even call themselves a bar. Just because you serve alcohol doesn’t make you one. And sipping on sweet champagne while listening to a piano concerto in the background is completely absurd.” It took everything not to gag at the thought of someone considering one of those places ‘fun’.

“Now if you meant wanting to know why I’m here…” she gestured at the lovely surroundings “…. Simply put I am avoiding my apartment because for one it’s disgustingly dirty and I don’t feel like cleaning. Two, it still smells like burnt charcoal after my latest attempt at breakfast. Three, they have more booze here than in my fridge and I don’t have to keep getting up to pour my own glass.”

“And what about you? Why would you be slumming it in a place like this?”

While her words may have come off as combative they were far from it. There was a true curiosity as to why he was in a place like this when he cared enough about his appearance to dress as he did. It was only the whiskey currently rooting its way through her that made her conversation points seem so harsh. Also, the lack of worry of offending anyone, including a Pilot Noble (Shhh don’t tell Grisham).

Marjorie:
Well... he didn't actually, want to be prim and proper all the time, not even perfect really - better than you, yes, but even he wouldn't assess himself as perfect all the time. "Well, like you said... all those seemly places I aught to be spending my time, are, frankly, boring." That was bold faced lie, but one he delivered with the ease of sincere truth and not a flicker of dis-ingenuousness. In fact, he liked packed, loud dance clubs, and quiet, classy coital bars... "I also do prefer a smooth whisky to champagne."

Not to worry, he wasn't offended anyway.

"Besides..." he said, his gaze catching her over the rim of his glass as he took another sip from it, "where else could I find such good company, as yourself?" The corners of his mouth turned up in the kind of smile that made most women swoon. He wasn't really flirting, but he was teasing.

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