[[You don't have to ask, feel free to drop in. ]]
The Cancer. It felt like coming home... sort of. Only Edanith would ever
feel like home to
Raf, but he couldn't even stand setting foot on that planet most of the time now. Too many memories and ghosts to chase him around there. Too many faces of the dead to haunt his dreams... not that they didn't follow him out into space also, but their cries and accusations were quieter further from Edanith.
This place felt like home because it was full of people looking to make a buck by being stronger than the other guy, or by taking advantage of someone, or hiding or running. People just like him.
So, here he was, in a seedy, 'back alley' bar deep in the labyrinth that was The Cancer space station. Sliding onto a bar-stool, he rested his elbows on the bar and rested his forehead on his interlaced fingers, giving something near to the appearance of slumping over his hands. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, let it out slowly. Then his head shot up with a start and his eyes were open - wild and alert. Every-time he closed his fucking eyes. They were there again. It was a wonder he ever slept at all. It took a moment, but he reigned himself back in and calmed - or at least he looked calm - his heart was still pounding.
He glanced around.
Where the fuck was the bartender?
