Mar. 8th, 2019

starcrossedscoundrel: (The truth is I miss you)
[personal profile] starcrossedscoundrel
Abric had never needed a drink as much as he needed one right now. He had something else to do on Alderaan, but it would have to wait. He had too much to unpack and too much about himself to examine and if he could just relax for a bit maybe he could handle it. And get as far away from it all as possible. Flow had agreed with him, even upset as he was over witnessing torture firsthand instead of through his Force-sensitivity. He would get through it. He'd seen something upsetting but was sure of who he was in it all. Abric had just had a handful of preconceived notions attacked and needed time to process.

For an otherwise awkward, vulnerable kid, Abric thought, Flow had a lot of hidden wisdom and strength to tap into.

Not like him. He just wanted to be the strong and wise one. Or did he? He didn't know what he wanted to be anymore. What he should be. He'd thrown himself into hating Imperials after his betrayal only to find a Sith had been Flow's friend and confidant, and he couldn't pretend his spy of an ex-husband never loved him anymore after learning he hadn't even given him a false name.

He seriously needed a drink. Needs one, rather.

Nar Shaddaa is far enough away, and has an impressive selection of places to tell his mind to shut the hell up for a while. But he's just wandering aimlessly, until a young woman in a pink robe points him at a cantina in particular, its sign labeling it as "The Escape".

"I sense you have much on your mind," she says, keeping her head down so her hood obscures her features. "I think you'll find what you need in there."

"Thanks, uh...miss Jedi?"

The robed person says nothing, except, "Good luck." And then she continues on her way.

Abric heads inside, notes immediately the difference in atmosphere. There are more male holo-dancers. More women watching female dancers. More mixed crowds. No dancers in person. Staff dressed like normal people. He can guess what this was intended as an escape from. The prospect of having a drink without an attempt at seduction (or another party worrying he might) actually does sound pretty appealing. That's a distraction that doesn't help for long.

He looks for an empty booth...and finds himself staring at another Twi'lek. A very familiar one. Oberon looks up from the paper pinwheel he's folding up (showing his human companion how, apparently), and meets his eyes. His mouth falls open in silent question.

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