Planet for sale, cheap. (Open)

[Corias Bonaventure]

"Frelling, myopic, brown-nosing, couldn't-tell-paydirt-if-they-sat-in-it bureaucrats... 'Eyes on the times,' my armpit. I've catalogued single-celled organisms that displayed more signs of intelligence."

Corias Bonaventure stormed through the upper Coruscant streets muttering fitfully to himself like a man who'd spent half a year on his own prospecting for resource worlds on the frontier and returned only to find the values of irridium and cesium reduced to a ten-year low because of some new industrial regs pushed through the Senate by the frelling environmentalist lobby.

Which, of course, wasn't too far off from the truth.

He'd thought he was a genius when he set course for the frontier beyond the Cizerack Pride. Those worlds hadn't felt the probing of planetary sensors since the Empire was looking for materials to build the Death Star.

It was the longest tour he'd taken to date. And running a survey ship with a full optronic sensor cortex weighed heavily on a freelancer's budget. He'd found six planets with readily exploitable resources. Dynasty Mining Corp would only pay for the data on two of them. That wouldn't even cover his operating expenses for the last six months. He just couldn't afford to take out another loan to fund his next excursion, so he'd told that pimply, stiff-collared speculating agent to stick his offer somewhere no laser drill can excavate.

Corias left the office as broke as he'd gone in, and unless he could find another client, he'd stay that way.

The young man stepped into the first bar he could find outside the corporate district, not even glancing up at the neon sign that was flashing "Yog's." He was surprised to meet a NRSF agent at the door asking for weapons. He would've turned around and looked for another pub, but, taking a gander at the place, it didn't seem too dangerous, even if it looked like a bathrobe convention was stopping by. Shrugging, he turned over his Rummel P-16 special and mosied over to the bar.

Corias hopped onto a stool and slapped the bartop. "Barkeep, get me an Aldebaran whiskey."

[Rhea Kaylen]

Rhea Kaylen nearly fell off her barstool, starting violently at the loud THWAP! of a sweaty palm impacting the bar next to her head. Groggily she lifted her aching head to see who was interrupting her halfway-inebriated daze.

A rough man in rough clothes had perched himself on the next barstool. He looked every inch a spacer, though judging from the stormy expression on his face, he was perhaps a down-and-out one.

The glass the barkeep slid to the newcomer was brimming with some kind of foreign brew. Rhea had no idea what it was, but the sight and smell of it made her head spin again.

Urrgh...drinking that Corellian Twister had probably been a bad idea...

The unholy loud clank of the spacer's glass on the bar jolted the throb in Rhea's right temple, and she unconsciously moaned faintly as her head sank downward again.

[Corias Bonaventure]

At a fleeting glance, Corias saw a mop of black and white hair drooped over the bartop as he reached for the opaque, green beverage. He wasn't prepared to give it much more thought before he'd drowned some of his entrepreneurial angst. Raising the shotglass to his lips, he downed the whole thing--Holy--!

It raged all the way down his throat, and he almost dropped his glass as he nearly hacked up an internal organ. He thumped his chest hard, wiped his watery eyes, took a few deep breaths, then looked back up at the bartender.

"One more," the pilot said.

[Rhea Kaylen]

The melodramatic ruckus next door made Rhea swallow a snicker. Got what he asked for, if you ask me. Not that she'd been much better at slurping on that nearly-virgin fruit Twister. Even the miniscule amount of liquor in it had set her to choking and hiccuping almost immediately. Halfway through it, and unused to any alcohol whatsoever, Rhea'd been nearly smashed.

She was surprised to hear the spacer wheeze for another glass of his acid drink, and, morbidly interested, turned her head a fraction to peer over the crook of her supporting arm.

"Y'sure you wanna do tha'?" Actually, the words weren't meant to be anything more than a thought, but in order for her to hear over the renewed pounding in her head, Rhea'd found it necessary to mumble them to herself as she watched the young man raise his fresh shotglass.

[Corias Bonaventure]

Corias glanced at the woman slumped on the bar beside him, then regarded his beverage philosophically.

"Do I want to?" he said. "No, not really. I have to. It's a sort of..." He swiveled the shotglass in his hand, sloshing its contents precariously. "Catharsis. You know, a cleansing of the soul."

He up-ended the glass a second time and bent double over the bar, retching. Once he was finished, the spacer pushed himself upright and rubbed his throat tenderly. "That's enough cleansing for tonight," he rasped.

Corias slapped the bar again, eliciting a perturbed look from the 'tender. "Barkeep, you got any cheese fries? Send some over. And get me a cup of caff."

He cocked his head over to match Rhea's orientation. "You look pretty cleaned out yourself."

[Minion Alghieri]

"The absolute strongest stuff you've got."

Alghieri was a bit ticked - had been for a few hours by now, really. The gangster had just finished a set of in-person negotiations that could have gotten him quite a profit.

Or not. He'd been forced to dispose of one or two lackies, and washing off his weapons had been a nuisance.

And this after a trip all the way to Coruscant.

To sum up; his mood was indescribably foul.

"And I mean that," he added when the bartender hesitated.

It was goign to take a while, he saw, as some nearby fellow with the look of a prospector had just ordered-

Cheese fries!?!?

Snorting, Alghieri thumped his elbows on the table to wait for his drink.

[Rhea Kaylen]

At first, Rhea was glad the spacer had turned his head; she saw him much better that way. Then he spun completely upside-down, and she rather wished he'd stop trying to accomodate her.

Then she realized he wasn't moving.

Rhea spread her fingers flat against the bar and slowly pushed herself more or less erect. After a moment to take a breath, she blinked at the spacer and replied.

"Yes I am. I swear off liquor as of this moment. Never again."

A brief pause in which Rhea's brow furrowed in thought. Then she hiccuped. "Nope. Never again."

Even to her own head, Rhea sounded like a babbling idiot. Which, all things considered, she was. Her eyes had drifted off the spacer, and she wrenched them back, noticing as she did the figure sitting two or three seats farther down. Whoever he was, Rhea thought he looked vaguely amused.

The bartender swung by and passed off a mug of something steaming and oily to the spacer. She nodded at it, wincing at her headache.

" 'S that stuff help?" Rhea wasn't sure why she asked him, and some of it was probably the Corellian sweetrum talking, but he seemed knowledgeable about such things, and she was willing to try anything.

[Corias Bonaventure]

Wow... the gal had definitely had a little more than was good for her, and from the sounds of things, this was her first time, too. And she seemed to be sitting alone, which meant there was probably a reason she'd taken to the bar tonight.

So, if Corias turned on just enough charm, it was possible his day wouldn't end up being so bad after all.

The prospector reeled in his cup of caff and lightly blew the steam away. "Depends on what needs helping," he replied, mixing in a creamer. "It'll make you feel more awake, maybe start chasing the alcohol out of your system. Ginger tea might be better for your headache. You can pick up an anti-oxidant tablet if you're really in a hurry."

He took a measured sip of his caff--not so fresh this late in the day, but better than what he was used to.

"Unless you were talking about something else," he added innocently.

Corias chanced a peek at the big fellow a few seats down. Uh-oh, looked like trouble. He couldn't quite place the gangster's species, but he could tell the guy had some steam to blow off, and, as far as the pilot's experience went, big, angry aliens and hard drinks made for an explosive combination.

The bartender was a moment more in the kitchen before he returned to his ill-tempered customer. "Only fair to warn you, buddy," he said, hefting a reinforced durasteel keg plastered with all manner of prohibitive typography. "This is the absolute strongest stuff we've got. You sure you don't want second-strongest?"

[Minion Alghieri]

The huge mongrel turned his gaze from the keg to the bartender, and bared jagged teeth.

"Thank you," he said civilly. "That will do just fine. How much for the whole keg?" The bartender named a figure, and wordless, Alghieri payed hard credits and accepted the cask.

"Bottoms up," he mumbled, and began to drink directly from the bung.

Thirty seconds later, he blinked and put the cask down in front of him. That was indeed strong. Close to a hundred percent, if he didn't miss his guess, and with something corrosive mixed in.

"Not bad," he said after a long moment. "Not bad at all."

"Care for a sip, miss?" he asked the girl humorously, the one who seemed to be having serious trouble holding the light stuff. "Clear your head and no mistake."

[Rhea Kaylen]

Rhea watched, half in horror and half in awe, as the big guy down the bar upended an entire keg of what looked to be nuclear waste. Did he actually have a death wish, or just an inflated sense of his own fortitude?

He seemed to take it alright, though, much to Rhea's amazement. When he came up for air, he offered her a swig.

"Umm..." Rhea came back tremulously. Just the thought of drinking that stuff made her queasy. "Think I'll pass, thanks. I doubt that'd really do the trick for me."

Remembering belatedly that the spacer next to her had asked a question (actually an open-ended rhetorical, she realized as her more intelligent faculties seemed to be checking back in), and had been quite forthcoming with remedies for her, Rhea turned back to him.

"Well that stuff," she replied, motioning vaguely to the aromatic caff, "looks revolting, but ginger tea...now there's a smart idea. My headache's about the only thing I can help at this point." This last was said more to herself than the man as she reclined her forehead against her cool hand.

[Corias Bonaventure]

Corias found himself riveted to the spectacle. Even two seats away, the smell of the grog in that keg assaulted his nostrils almost as badly as the whiskey had. There was only one such substance he knew of that could possibly find its way into the darkest recesses of a pub's beverage locker, even though, by all standards of reason and decency, it shouldn't be anywhere near products intended for organic consumption.

Across the galaxy, it was known by many names--the Vaad called it "Death's Flagon," to the Charnaks, it was "Devil's Bile," and the So'mey'chin'pu'ka'ri'soy gave it a twenty-seven syllable name that translated roughly to "Bringer of Sorrows, Messenger of Agonizing Death, and Chiefest of Putrefactions." But in these parts it was known as the Jedi Toilet Duck.

The spacer could only stare, aghast as Alghieri poured the vile stuff down his throat. There were very few species who could tolerate that level of exposure.

"By the name of all that is holy..." Corias murmured. "You, uh... you know what that stuff is? That's..."

His attention drifted back toward Rhea. "...certainly not what you need. Ginger Tea, yeah, that's a good idea. Hey, barkeep!" He slapped his hand on the bar again.

The 'tender hustled over and clamped a meaty hand on his arm. "Please don't do that," he grumbled.

Corias retracted his arm. "Oh... sorry," he said in a more subdued tone. "Ginger tea for the lady here. Maybe a bit of honey and lemon."

As the bartender lumbered off, Corias glanced back over at Alghieri. "You know, there are some cultures that would drop everything and declare you a deity right about now."

[Minion Alghieri]

"It is strong," Alghieri admitted, elbow slipping on a spill. "Pretty much the strongest stuff I'm familiar with. Think I'm-" he hiccuped, and his face skated across the edge of mortified. "I think I'm halfway to a hangover already.

"Yeah, it's strong," he continued, apparently having forgotten that he'd said that very thing seconds ago. "But deity-level? Nah...I may be successful in my own line of work, but I'm pretty far from being a god to anyone but my men."

[Corias Bonaventure]

Corias glanced to Rhea on his right and back to Alghieri on his left. One was quaffing the hardest poison in the galaxy with masochistic abandon, and the other had gotten in over her head one step past a Shirley Temple. Granted, the spacer had taken two shots of whiskey, and he could feel a warm buzz about his ears, but as Alghieri's tankard did its work, Corias was rapidly becoming the soberest of the three of them.

He took another sip of his caff. Alghieri had just slapped down a substantial handful of credit without much compunction. Maybe... just maybe... he had the credits and the need for Corias Bonaventure's particular talents.

"Hey, I respect that," he said. "A leader ought to inspire his men. So what kind of business are you in?"

[Rhea Kaylen]

The bartender finally came back with the spacer's cheese fries (which Rhea eyed dubiously) and a small mug of wonderful-smelling tea with a flagon of honey. The large man looked at her somewhat pityingly; Rhea ducked his sympathetic glance and drizzled a liberal amount of honey into the depths of her tea.

Belatedly, Rhea patted at her pockets to ensure she had the credits to pay for the drink. Frowning as she fingered the chits in her jacket pocket, she silently hoped the tea was not expensive. She needed enough cash to pay for a cab home.

But the smell of the tea was heavenly, and Rhea slowly nursed the soothing (and, blessedly, sobering) drink as she kept half-an-ear on the spacer's conversation, finding herself vaguely interested in the man who'd helped her out.

[Corias Bonaventure]

Corias didn't hear any response from Alghieri. Considering the volume of alcohol the mongrel had just consumed, he felt it best not to press too hard. Especially when there was still a much fairer patron to his right.

"There, that's better," he said winningly, pointing at the tea. "Better than the sludge they keep in the caff machines, anyway. I don't think I ever caught your name. I'm Corias, by the way. Corias Bonaventure."

[Minion Alghieri]

"Shipping," the gangster mumbled finally, eying the keg askance. An exceptionally odd aftertaste had just kicked in.

"I run transport, mercenary outfits, supply and demand...your all-around sort of outer-rim entrepreneur."

[Rhea Kaylen]

Rhea was about to reply when Super Size down the bar seemed to snap out of his momentary funk and belatedly answer the spacer, Corias', question.

So Rhea, who was beginning to feel considerably better, just settled down to wait and sip her tea.

She needed another moment to reconnoitre, anyway; the alcohol still had her mind moving sluggishly. Corias Bonaventure, eh? Nice name, Rhea couldn't help admitting. Conveyed...wild spacefaring adventures and fantastic voyages and windswept vistas. It was the name of one born to see it all, and by the look of Sir Corias Bonaventure, he'd already been privvy to most of it.

Rhea found herself more interested in him than ever, just by virtue of his name. She was more than content to just sit quietly while he talked to the other man and try to forget the rather large mistake she'd made an hour ago in ordering that accursed drink.

[Corias Bonaventure]

Hmm... well, conversations didn't always proceed linearly in interstellar bars. Corias actually found himself quite comfortable bouncing between two threads of discussion as long as it didn't offend either party.

"You don't say? I've done business on the rim myself. Planetary survey, mainly--resource prospecting, that sort of thing. I also procure interstellar artifacts for private collectors."

He took a large handful of greasy cheese fries and stuffed them into his mouth.

"Of course, the market on that's been slow lately," he added while chewing. He washed the wad of fries down with a gulp of caff and turned back to Rhea. "Still with me? I can call you a cab if you need it."

[Rhea Kaylen]

Rhea watched Corias, trying not to grimace at his eating habits. Cheese fries...

"No, I'm fine for now, thanks, Sir Bonaventure. I'm Rhea Kaylen."

She extended her hand with as bright a smile as she could muster under the circumstances.

[Corias Bonaventure]

Corias had the presence of mind to wipe off his hand before taking Rhea's. He gave it a gentle squeeze and noted that her skin felt just a bit clammy and cold--that drink really had done a number on her.

"Sir Bonaventure?" he laughed. "Wow. No, call me Corias. Or Cor. Or whatever. I'm just a hack spacer. So tell me, Rhea, why's a girl like you doing a night on the town all alone?"