suitably_heroic | Famous Sichuan, New York City, Late Tuesday Night

Last week, Lana had insisted on going to one of the 'good restaurants' in Chinatown, and Atton had said no, because it was boiling hot outside and they were in Chelsea and he just needed an AC. This week, Lana had chosen to spend her break crashing at Atton's place and experiencing New York City right.

So it was time for a do-over.

Though not until about three bars into a pub crawl, and these past few weeks really was the most and the most frequent Atton had been drinking in a very long time. There were probably psychological reasons behind that, but Atton's therapist was in another galaxy. He was trying not to analyze that until he was in a better place to decompress.

Anyway, they were three bars in, he'd made Lana a promise, and so they found themselves pushing their way into Famous Sichuan at a stupid late hour for a Tuesday night.

"This place," he announced, "Is good, and it's open until 2 AM, which makes it extra good on a night like this."

Did he mention he hadn't drank this much and this often in a long time?

[[ for lana ]]

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"I think I could sense a gundark anywhere in the--" Atton waved his hand. "--I mean, as far as Boston or Virginia from here."

"What if it was a different kind of gundark? Things change in a few centuries," Lana said gleefully.

"No," Atton said. "No."

Someone set his Coke down in front of him. He took it and sipped it. Belligerently.

Lana sipped her tea gleefully. "You don't know. There are all kinds of animals on all kinds of worlds now. We have all new stalkers and sleens and makrin on Odessen! The makrin are kind of adorable, honestly."

She cocked her head. "What do you think a New York makrin would look like? Would it pick up cigarettes and bottles?"

Edited 2024-07-02 17:53 (UTC)

"What, like the creepy stalker things made of-- stuff?" Atton said, squinting. "... probably wind up half covered in trash, neon, and old sofas."

Lana giggled. "Oh, I'm just picturing someone sitting on an old sofa and it grows legs and starts moving! That would be hysterical. Should I bring you a makrin? They don't breed like gizka or anything, they'd be easy to keep."

"No," Atton said. Pointing. Literally. "You're not springing a pet on me right as I've finally found someone to live with who hates pets as much as I do."

Sip.

"It wouldn't be a pet!" Lana protested. "It would be a scientific experiment."

Atton pulled a face. "I am a lot of extremely competent things but I am not a scientist, Lana," he said. "And I'm very happy not to be! Most of those people are creeps!"

Lana grinned. "Have I ever shown you our chief scientist?"

He was something.

"Are they a creep?" Atton asked.

"A little bit," Lana admitted. "But he's a Hutt."

Atton looked scandalized. "You have a Hutt."

"We have a Hutt scientist!" Lana said gleefully. "Did you know most of them can speak Basic just fine, they just think it's beneath them?" Kind of like the French. "But he says science is his art, and he's really very good at it!"

"Yeah?" Atton demanded, belligerently. "What kind of science, huh? Is it creepy science? It's got to be creepy science. He's a Hutt."

"It's creepy science and not-creepy science!" Lana insisted. "He's really good with computers and droids and biology and physics and...lots of stuff. And he's got a dancing droid. And he helped us rebuild HK-55!"

Dwell on that, Atton.

"Rebuilding a HK droid should probably not be on your list of non-creepy things anyone could do," Atton retorted. "In fact, it's--"

Whatever it was, it was thankfully muffled by the arrival of the guy with the hot pot broth, depositing the pan on their table.

"He's a very good droid!" Lana protested. "He's programmed for bodyguarding, not assassination. And the Commander set his parameters, even though he insisted sometimes cute things are deadly, which is a good point, but anyway, no collateral damage or unnecessary killing of 'meatbags' is permitted."

"It's an HK unit," Atton retorted. "All your arguments are invalid."

Broth guy dropped a large tray of very thinly sliced meat in front of Lana. Loudly.

Lana gave the broth guy a winning smile. "Thank you!"

She turned back to Atton. "None of us are destined from birth to be only one thing. Why should a droid? They're even more changeable than people, with the right programming. I bet we could make him a protocol droid if we needed another one, but that just seems mean."

"I've seen what happens when you reprogram an HK droid," Atton retorted, blindly stabbing a few slices of meat to drop into the boiling broth. "It's almost more disturbing than just letting them be their creepy little selves. Pass."

"Oo, what did you program yours to do?" Lana asked, dropping some more meat in the broth. "What's this?" She sniffed the broth. "Oh, very nice."

"Be nice," Atton said, with a voice that sounded like it came from the grave. "Let's just eat. I don't even wanna think about it."

"I am being nice! What did you program it to do?" Lana asked.

This is what happens when you got her drunk, Atton!

"To be nice! Space, you're like a--"

Atton searched for an appropriate proverb from their galaxy and... couldn't actually find it.

"--dog with a bone!"

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