suitably_heroic | MCA #4, Monday Evening

Current Music: 'The Good Life', Anouk

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MCA #4, Monday Evening

Atton had woken up that morning with only a passable idea of what had happened the previous night; there'd been five full bottles of juma in his fridge, no food anywhere, and an overly enthusiastic message from Skywalker confirming drinking plans Atton had no memory of proposing to the guy. He'd decided the wise thing to do was to get back into bed and maybe not get out of it until he stopped feeling completely miserable on every level.

By five PM, he'd given up on that, and ordered pizza.

By eight PM, he'd opened the second bottle of juma and he was waiting, patiently, for the inevitable dramatic knock/sweep into the room combo that generally heralded Skywalker arriving just about anywhere.

[[ expecting anakin, but open before he arrives! ]]

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"I just don't... see the point," Atton said. "About. Stuff."

Beat.

"Ugh."

"You mean using words about feelings?" Anakin said, smiling. "Yeah, me either. It hurts like hell."

"You know, I don't particularly miss being part of the Sith, but sometimes I miss the cold," Atton said.

He took a sip of his drink. "The emotional cold, that is."

Anakin nodded. "Or being encouraged to just block everything out with rage. Not healthy, but useful..."

Atton shrugged a little. "It was gradual on the way in, I don't know about yours," he said. "Something would hurt, so you'd go a little more numb, and then when the next thing hurt harder, it wasn't so bad."

Anakin shrugged. "I didn't get numb, I got angry. And there's the whole catechism about fear leading to anger and anger to hate..."

"Yeah, yeah, save me the Jedi talk," Atton said, waving his hand. "Anger was just a tool for me. Like everything, until that Jedi who convinced me to leave the Sith broke into my head."

Anakin nodded. "I'd grown up a human slave in a sector the Republic clearly and obviously didn't give a poodoo about," he said, juma making him more forthright than normal. "I was born angry at the injustice of the galaxy, especially when it was directed at me. I was an unstable blaster pack waiting to be fired and explode."

"Well, like I told you before, my thing was always pain," Atton said, staring into his glass. "There was a lot of that to go around, back in the Mandalorian Wars. The anger I felt towards the Jedi was a consequence of that. But like I said, the numbness came gradually. Then that Jedi got into my head and snapped it away and, well... you're lucky you couldn't sense anything real off me when I came here, I can tell you that."

"You are uncommonly gifted at keeping people out," Anakin admitted. "My grandson can play dead in the Force, which is completely creepy, but your white noise is just as effective."

"There were high-ranking Sith Lords who at times didn't even know I was there, back when I was with Revan's empire," Atton said. The corner of his mouth curled up.

Anakin smiled back. "Subtlety wasn't really my thing."

Go figure.

"I was the enforcer sent in when someone had screwed up badly and an example had to be made. The Hands were used for more delicate work."

"This is my surprised face," Atton said, pointing at his very much not surprised face. "Anyway, I still don't really like it when in here gets out there, is my point." Also a total surprise. "I just haven't been able to manage it the way I could when I was Sith."

"I'd say you should go see Electroclash, but like either of us would listen to that advice," Anakin said, sipping from his glass. "We could always spar or go to the mainland, start a bar fight and never, ever tell my wife."

Atton let out an inadvertent burst of laughter. "You mean Sarah from next door? Yeah, no." He took a sip of his drink. "I mean, I'm positive you're not supposed to sleep with your therapist."

He was drunk, was his defense.

"You did?" Anakin burst out laughing. "Really?"

Atton shrugged. "She lives across the hall," he said, "It's an ideal booty call, y'know, if I don't have to listen to her too much and she manages not to fry any of my electronics."

Anakin snorted juma. "Good to know. I'm guessing another...booty call isn't really going to fix anything either."

"She called me a couple of days ago just to complain that her best friend was totally making her go to a retreat she totally didn't want to go on," Atton said, rolling his eyes.

He sunk even further into his seat.

"We should have a staff retreat," Anakin declared. "With weapons and, like, trust falls and shit talking."

Sounds healthy.

And here Atton had just been about to take another puff from his cigarette.

Instead he was being forced, here, to very slowly look in your direction with an expression that read I'm pretty sure I didn't give you any spice so what the hell are you on. You should feel ashamed about making him do that.

"C'mon," Anakin said. "Imagine the look on Lecter's face when someone hits his suit with a paintball."

"...Yeah, okay, that's funny," Atton agreed.

But he was pretty easy where it came to Lecter-based humor.

"Still. Can you even imagine that? It'd be a massacre. We'd have to hire a retreat undertaker."

"Could be worth it if Pinkie Pie gets out the party cannon."

This is a terrible idea, Anakin.

"Look, let's be real," Atton said, finally taking that drag off his cigarette he'd been craving. "You would kill someone before the week was over."

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