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It had not been a good week. Not because of anything that had happened - Atton liked Sparkle, but not enough to shed any tears if that friendship went to hell - but because of the mess in his head. Usually the nightmares came once every few days, but now he'd had four in a row, and he was damned tired of it.

Dreaming of Malachor V last night, the storms below, the sudden icy cold in his heart, the soundless screams--

Yeah, that had been the last straw.

He should have done this ages ago, anyway.

"Hey," he greeted the girl at the bar, after coming in close enough so she could actually hear him. He let his mouth curve into a smirk (not too cocky, but enough to show he was interested). "You want a free drink and we can take it from there? I figure we should take a chance while the volume's only at pounding."

She laughed: testament that this worked a lot better when people didn't think you were fifteen. Or maybe testament to the fact that Atton knew how to pick his grody cantinas.

Whatever it was, he had a hunch he wasn't going to be coming back to Fandom tonight.

[[ establishy ]]

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Atton Rand & miscellaneous names

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