A Bar Off-Island, Friday Evening

[suitably_heroic]

"I'm telling you," Atton said, "Everything in life comes back to pazaak."

He might've had a couple of drinks already - going at a rate about three times Sia's, give or take. "The plays, the guesses, the losses and the wins." He took a sip of his whiskey. "Actually, that's a load of bantha poodoo," he amended, "But it's the kind of thing that sounds good in the right cantina."

He'd been to a lot of the wrong ones.

This bar, though? This one was nice. Well-lit, just this side of pretentious, inexpensive. The kind of place college students would frequent. That kind. Atton had hated it on sight.

[[ for sia! ]]

Comments

[notconflicted]

Sia took that in, and it wasn't exactly terrible advice. "I'll do what I can there," she said, meaning it.

Stubbornness would totally get her very near killed in the future.

[suitably_heroic]

Funny thing, really; because Atton was a hypocrite to the core, and the only reason he was here at all was that he stubbornly refused to die, even when he really wanted to.

"Thanks," he said. "You're not a horrible sentient being. It'd be a shame if you died early."