Make Dirty Martinis, Not War [Rute/open!]

[Tally]

If Riot couldn't be happy, then he'd be drunk.

He sat at a table in the middle of the big rec lounge, alone yet surrounded by people.  He was slumped forward in his seat, staring at his empty glass, chin resting on the table.

Things had gotten...rough...si nce Aedolis had threatened Libra.  Last few days had been the worst.  He had his fighter buddies convinced he was just bummed about not getting to go toe to toe with Aedolian's fleet.  But that weren't it at all.  Not even close.

Riot raised up to prop his chin in one hand.  The noise helped, all the people talking over each other and the music beating at his ears, base vibrations like the heartbeat of Libra herself, shaking the floor.  The footsteps of people dancing.  Colored lights flashing, servers weaving through the crowd with trays of drinks and finger foods.  A sensory orgy.  Once the news trickled down that Aedolis was leaving off and Edanith had backed out too, there was no stopping the alcohol from flowin' or the people from celebratin'.  Libra was one big party tonight.

And he was missing it.

With a determined frown, Riot pushed out from the table and set off into the crowd.  He put a smile on his face.  Fake it until you make it, right?  All these happy, beautiful people and here he was bein' all mopey and missing the fun.  Psh, forget that.

Maybe if he ignored them and concentrated on enjoying himself, the voices in his head would quiet down.

On the way to the bar, he stopped one of the servers and grabbed a handful of whatever it was she was toting around.  Some food with toothpicks stuck in it.  He popped on in his mouth and flicked the toothpick to the floor, making his way to the bar.  Bracing one hand on some stranger's shoulder and clutching his food in the other, Riot climbed up on top of a barstool then stepped up onto the bar itself amid the exclamations of those trying to enjoy their drinks there.  He scanned the dim lounge and shouted over the music.  "Anybody seen the captain in here?"

Someone yelled back over the crowd.  "Get down before you break your neck, Delacroix!"

"You're not the boss of me—whoa!"  Riot teetered, nearly fell, then regained his balance and crouched with his hands held out just in case he had another spaz attack.  He shot a sheepish look around at the people staring up at him from around the bar.

Maybe he should have bothered to find out what drink he'd been chugging all night and just how much of it he'd had.

[Anonymous]

No mage enslaving Mordecai, no oppressing dragons. That was Libra.
Isabel had always felt safe on the Space Station. However, just a few days ago, both Aedolis and Edanith had been much too close for comfort, at least in her opinion. And when that happened, she had felt fear like she hadn't in quite some time.
She was usually pretty good at staying calm, but...it came out of no where, quit judging!

However, thankfully, there ended up being no battle at all. That would be the reason for the whole party.
It was a bit surprising she was there, as she didn't exactly love big parties. But what happened days a go made her think about a few things.

You see, amidst the worse part of her reaction, while she was practically panicking thinking she and so many others would die or worse, she though of all the things she'd never done. So, there something positive about the whole ordeal after all? No, there was nothing positive about an imminent attack. She would have liked to get to the conclusion she might want to change a few things about herself some other way.

Never the less, she was here. At a party, with lots of people, this had happened...what, two other times in her life?
The three glasses in front of her also indicated she was drinking. But she wasn’t, not really. The glasses were all full. She was trying different drinks, to see if she would actually find an beverage with alcohol which she liked.
That was failing so far, as after taking a tiny sip from a drink, she'd push it away slightly and order a different one. That process repeated until she was staring at now the fourth glass before her.

It looked weird. It had an odd colour. She was seriously considered giving up on her self proposed challenge, but her attention was taken by something. Someone, to be more precise.

She blinked, looking up at the man standing on the stool beside her, then asking about the captain.
"Get down before you break your neck, Delacroix!"
Delacroix. Isabel recognised the name, but couldn't quite place it. She didn't really think on that very long though, as she saw the young man lose his balance.

Instinctively, she had moved in her seat, as if to get off. Not that she would have made it in time, nor had the strength to catch him, so it was lucky he didn't actually fall.
This guy had definitely had too much to drink.

Isabel tugged at his sleeve to get his attention, should that fail she would get down from her stool, to stand in front of him, and then speak. "Hey, if you're looking for the Captain, that's not the best place to do it. So why don't you get down from there?" She had to say it all uncomfortably loud so it was actually audible at least to him amidst all the noise.
Still, she had to try and make him come down from there. She didn't want him to hurt himself... "Please?" A request seemed a better approach, besides: asking nicely can make a big difference. At least...that's what many people say.

[ Edit for evil typos )x ]

[Tally]

From Riot's vantage atop the bar, all the bobbing heads out on the floor looked the same.  He squinted at them, which didn't do much to help.  Strobe lights cast parts of the room into staccato flashes and confused his eye.  There musta been people smoking in this lounge, too, 'cause a thin haze blanketed the air just over their heads.  Even if the Cap'n was out there—and he weren't even sure she'd break from the bridge long enough to come party with the peons—he probably wouldn't have been able to pick her white head out of the crowd.

Didn't help none with her bein' a midget.

He was in the middle of wondering how difficult it would be to do a front flip off the bar and land on his feet—he coulda done it; maybe some rube would bet against him and he could earn a quick buck—when someone tugged on his sleeve.  It was a girl, not anyone he recognized off the top of his head though she looked familiar.  He was a sociable dude, but Libra had the population of a moderate city.  His circle of friends and acquaintances extended through much of the fighter pilot demographic and some of the maintenance crews.

The girl's mouth moved, but all he heard through the music was the bare edge of her voice, no words.  "Ehhh?"  He'd have to get down to her level.  Feeling a little tipsy, he crouched first, moving slowly and looking downward at the top of the bar lest vertigo overtake him.  He plopped down on his rear, straddling the bar, and yes he certainly did catch those dirty looks from the other party goers seated nearby.  Riot glared right back at them and stuck his tongue out at one.  Stuffy yahoos.  Must have been hard sitting down with those sticks up their bums.

Riot smiled at the chick who'd gotten his attention.  He'd missed everything she'd said.  Hopefully it hadn't been anything mean.  She didn't look angry at least.  "You say something, darlin'?"

In his hand he still grasped the bite-sized whatevers he'd taken off that server's tray.  He'd forgotten about them and they were a little smushed but still edible.  He swallowed down another one and flicked the toothpick at the back of someone's head, then quickly looked off in another direction as the guy whipped around.  

Through it all, he ignored the voices murmuring in his head.  They never really went away, just wobbled up and down in volume.  Over the years he'd learned to tune them out like white noise, but lately...lately they were just real loud.

[Anonymous]

He didn't seem to get what she said. Figures. She thought he actually might, since he moved and then straddled the bar. Which wasn't exactly the first thing she would suggest but...it was better than before. Atleast now he didn't look in position to easily lose his balance and take a nasty fall.

Isabel raised a brow slightly for a moment, seeing the young man stick his tongue out at someone. Afterwards though, he turned to her, and comfirmed he had heard absolutely nothing she had said.

For a second, she lowered her head, sighing lightly. Places like this, well, atleast under this circumstance, as people don't have parties every day...was the worse place to talk to someone.

Looking up again, in time only to see him looking away quickly from the direction he was turned to before, though why she didn't really know. She actually looked in said direction, curious, but noticed nothing in particular. Right, whatever. Didn't really matter.

Finally, she attempted to talk to him again. As uncomfortable as it was, she shifted, and got somewhat closer. She didn't like such short distance with someone she didn't really know, but if she didn't he probably just wouldn't hear her again.
"I said," she started, tone again uncomfortably louder than normal. "You should get down." Better see if he heard her like this, instead of wasting breath only to have to repeat it.

[Tally]

Riot began to sway and bob his head with the music.  Weren't so bad up here.  Good music, good food, nice people to talk to him.  Any other time, this would have been just his scene.  Flying was his first passion, partying his second.  But he really, really, really was tired of constantly worrying over being found out.  So long as he didn't say nothing about the voices, no one would know, right?  Right!  And so long as his...affliction didn't do any more than fill his head with whispers, there was no real harm.  What damage could a few voices do?

"Get down?  What for?"  He'd finally caught her words over the noise and, like her, he leaned forward and put some extra volume into his voice to make himself heard.  "I was lookin' for the captain and I can totally see better up here and I'm not, like, getting jostled by all the drunks either.  It's nice up here, lemme tell ya.  In fact, I think you ought to come up to me."

Ha.  See what she thought about that.  Who said standing on the floor was so great, anyway?  Why must he stand on the floor like everyone else?  Why must he conform?

"Oh," he added, leaning back down again.  "My name's Riot.  I fly in one of the squadrons.  Hey, do you want any of these, darlin'?"

He held out his handful of little food bits to her.  Still wasn't quite sure what they were.  Some kind of fancy appetizer or something, probably with a foreign name that he wouldn't have known how to pronounce.  That's what he got for hitting up the higher end shindigs.  Over in the hangars, they were probably eating those tiny hot dogs.

"They're real good.  For party food, I mean."

From down the bar, the bartender found a five second gap between all the drink orders and pointed at Riot.  "You're gonna have to get down from there.  If your ass isn't off the bar by the time I get over there, I'll move it for you."

"Yeah, yeah."  Riot gave a flip of his hand to show what he thought of that.  He'd have to move eventually, but for now the bartender was too busy trying to keep up with the dozen or so party goers all talking over each other trying to get their orders in.  Riot reckoned he had a few minutes yet until he got chased off.

[GIR]

Eva couldn't have been any less happy about her assignment. Plenty of intelligence agents on the Rahulik Vari, and Eva, the fighter pilot, was the one sent to the one of the station's bars to gather information. True, most of the intel agents on the Rahulik Vari were adults, and, as such, much too large to move about freely on a station clearly meant for much smaller beings. It was still insulting to be asked to gather intel at a place whose purpose was to serve alchohol, a rather distasteful concoction any Draconian worth her sword steered clear of. <May as well...>, she thought to herself, ducking to enter the bar. Distasteful as she found the sight which greeted her, Eva made her way up to the counter. <Herr Barkeep. Got a moment?>, she telepathically asked. Ah, telepathy. The ability to send one's thoughts directly into another's mind. The Mother Goddess definitely had it right when she so generously allowed for a form of communication which was immune to ambient sound.

[Tally]

Riot was pretty sure he was completely drunk.  He hopped off the bar and swayed in place.  The whole room throbbed with music and movement and hedonistic pleasure assailing his mind.

Yeah, drunk.  Completely.

What he saw approaching the bar he was sure was a hallucination at first.  Or someone in a costume.  Maybe not though.  He blink at her, then pointed.  "Tail!"

[GIR]

Eva glanced at the human. <Yes, that is my tail. What of it?>, she asked, her 'tone' neutral. It was a tad amusing, though, to see a human act as if it was unusual for her kind to have tails, even if she was in an uncharted galaxy. Eva returned her attention to the barkeep as she listened for the human's response.

[sorry it's so short...]

[Tally]

"Can I, like, touch it?" he said, watching the appendage.  "Yeah so like, pretty sure I've never known anyone with a tail.  Not sayin' it's bad or nothin', it's just like...like whoa man, y'know?  Y'know what I mean?"

His attention followed hers, to the bar and the dude behind it.  He started in on the drawn out process of trying to talk himself out of buying another drink.  Or maybe into buying another drink.  He wasn't like a hundred percent on which side of the fence he stood there.  He wanted one, but he was like so wasted already, asking to touch people's tails and such.

[GIR]

<No. Don't bother asking why, either. That should be obvious.>, Eva answered, her tail twitching in annoyance. Why was it that every human who made a fuss over her tail insisted on asking that? It wasn't like any Draconians ever asked to touch their hair. Sentient beings were not pets to be patted and petted and touched whenever. Except wyverns, but they actually liked such a thing, and were made for it. <I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that you're inebriated.>, Eva observed with a growl-like sigh of disappointment. <This one's of no use.>, she thought bitterly to herself as she waited on the bartender.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the human with mild interest as she waited, noting the look of someone trying to decide on something. <Not sure what you're trying to decide, but, if it's about another drink, you've clearly had too many as it is.>, she suggested. It wasn't her place to push her views on others, but she also wan't going to let a human drink more when he was already rather obviously drunk.