First Reply Dive Bar Magick

[Juniper Le Fey]

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LEXRUL- MIDDAY​

Music crackled over the cantina's tired speakers, a broken rhythm of lyrics in Ryl that Juniper only half-recognized. She caught certain sounds here and there, enough to guess at the meaning but not enough to care. The tune carried itself across smoke-filled air and rows of empty chairs, curling into the corners of the room. Lexrul's buildings pressed tight outside, jutting upward like jagged teeth, but inside it was nothing but dim shadows and heavy silence. The kind of place no one lingered in unless they had nowhere better to go.

She slipped through the door without hesitation, boots clicking against the warped flooring as though daring the sound to challenge her presence. At nearly six-three with her boots, her frame cut through the gloom, her bald head catching the sputter of a dying hololamp. The patrons were what you'd expect in a dive like this- bent-backed old men clinging to their glasses, muttering into their beards. Against them, Juniper was a knife at a sabacc table, a figure that demanded notice whether she wanted it or not. She didn't mind. A drink was what she needed, and the spice tucked in her pocket promised the night would smooth out from there.

A gruff Twi'lek moved into her path before she made it further, his lekku twitching as though they were keeping time with the music he was probably in charge of. His voice came out rough and sharp, demanding some form of ID. Juniper had been around long enough to know what that really meant. It wasn't procedure, it was a toll booth, a few credits slipped across the hand and you were good.

"I don't have to show you anything." Her words slid from her tongue, punctuated with a lazy flick of her hand. His eyes clouded almost instantly, the demand dying in his throat. He repeated her words back to her like a half-sleeping child and stepped aside without another thought. By the time his mind snapped back to clarity, Juniper was already moving on, leaving nothing behind but the faint aftertaste of something he couldn't explain.

She claimed a seat at the bar, resting her elbows against its stained surface and propping her chin against one hand as if she owned the place. The bartender dragged himself forward at his own pace, eyes yellowed from too many bad nights and his face set in a permanent sneer. When he opened his mouth, his tone was thick with disdain, each word phlegmy and gritty as if he resented the act of speaking to her at all.

"We don't have any fancy girly drinks," he muttered. "Spirits and brew. That's it." His eyes lingered on hers, carrying that familiar brand of contempt. She knew it well, men who looked at her and only saw someone soft, someone who couldn't possibly know the weight of violence. That was fine. Being underestimated was an old game of hers, and one she had learned to win.

Juniper lifted her chin from her palm, rising slowly until her full height cast a shadow across the man leaning into her space. Her hazel eyes caught the light and reflected it back sharp and cutting. "Just pour me a shot of whiskey," she said, her voice clean and precise, each word sharpened to an edge. Then she smiled, and that smile could've opened a man's throat without ever needing a blade. "Hot."

The bartender's sneer faltered. Maybe he saw something he hadn't expected. Maybe he felt it. Either way, his bravado dimmed as he reached for the bottle, hands moving without another word.

Juniper let her fingers wander into her pocket, brushing over the familiar crinkle of the spice bag. Soon enough, she'd have her drink, her high, and maybe even a little quiet. The galaxy never really let her rest, though. Peace was always temporary. If someone decided to try their luck tonight, she was more than ready to make sure they regretted it.

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Juniper Le Fey
Gear: In Bio

Alana leaned back in her chair at the far end of the bar, half-hidden in the low light and the fog of smoke curling from her cigarello. She'd been watching the door without really meaning to, eyes flicking up every time it creaked on its hinges. She was enjoying the way her senses had been dialed in after training with the Force.

It gave a new insight to show she interacted with the world, sort of like a new toy in a sense.

Now with so many variables, she found herself able to garner more insight quicker than she had been privy to previously.

Folks came and went in places like this all the time, but when the tall one with the bald head walked in, she felt something different about her. Maybe it was the boots clicking too loud on warped flooring, maybe it was the way she didn't even pause when the Twi'lek tried to shake her down.

Alana caught the little flick of her hand, closing her eyes as she noticed the glassy look that rolled over the bouncer's eyes. She had a feeling this wasn’t about credits. She'd seen enough in her life to know it for what it was; her father being a smuggler gave insight enough there. She dragged on the cigarello, smoke curling around her face as she studied the woman's shadow stretching across the bar.

When the bartender gave her lip, Alana almost smirked into her drink. He didn't know what he was picking at. When Juniper rose, Alana took notice. The woman’s form cut across the room like a blade; least from where she was sitting. It was probably this enhanced sensory feedback.

Alana's fingers drummed once against her glass. The sneer faltered, of course it did.

"Hot whiskey," Alana muttered under her breath, catching the woman’s words from her little ease dropping routine. Her blue eyes caught in the dim light, a faint glimmer as she flicked the end of her cigarello into the ashtray.

She was curious now, though it went against the instincts she had been told so many times for situations like this. Typically, it was smart to not say a word. Just watch. Because some folk you didn't interrupt or get in the business of. She learned from getting involved not until you knew which way hell was going to break. If it was going to break to begin with.

But she enjoyed a good mystery, and this sort of situation was in her life blood. Against all logic, she approached the woman, easing beside her at the bar. “Interesting night we seem to be having.” She remarked, giving a soft smile, eyes towards the bartender.

Time to see where the wind blew here.

 

[Juniper Le Fey]

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Noticing things came naturally to Juniper. People in her line of work didn't last long without it. So when the only other woman in the bar turned her attention her way, Juniper noticed. Her chestnut eyes didn't meet the woman's directly, but she made sure the message was clear: I see you. Attention was a resource, and Juniper never gave it freely. There was power in acknowledgement, and even more in withholding it.

The bartender returned at last with her drink, moving slower than before, making no effort to hide how little he enjoyed serving her. Juniper didn't mind. That was his place. His job was to pour her drink, and her job was to remind him she held the cards here. She'd drawn every eye in the cantina the moment she walked in, and she played the hand with practiced ease.

The whiskey burned hot down her throat, her pupils flaring as the drink settled like fire in her stomach. She hadn't eaten more than scraps since landing on the planet. A liquid dinner felt like the natural choice. Her gaze shifted again when the white-haired woman rose from her corner. Juniper couldn't help but look her over as she closed the distance. Where Juniper was bald and sharp, this one carried a softer beauty, hair pale as moonlight. She looked like trouble, or at least a good time. Hopefully not the kind of trouble that spoiled her drink.

Every pair of drunken eyes locked onto them now. Two women talking in a place like this, half the bar had just found their new favorite holofilm. Juniper let them gawk. She drank in their attention as easily as the whiskey, her smirk curling when the stranger finally spoke.

"If you think this is interesting, you should let me take you to a club on Gamorr." Her voice was smooth, playful, her words slow enough to cut. She let her gaze drift across the bar, taking in the smoke and the slumped patrons. "That's interesting. This- "she waved a hand toward the sagging room, "-is sad." The smirk bent toward a frown as her eyes snapped back to Alana Calloway . "But I've got something that might make it more fun."

Her hand brushed her pocket, the corner of a little plastic baggie peeking just enough to be seen. Before the woman could answer, Juniper leaned past her and snapped her fingers at the bartender. "Two more. One for me, one for my new friend."

Her dark eyes lingered on the white-haired woman, sharp and unblinking, waiting. "Unless she'd rather tell me her name first."

 

[Alana Calloway]

Tags: Juniper Le Fey
Gear: In Bio

Alana's mood remained rather calm, letting herself dance with the amusement of this scene. Places like this were always full of eyes, typically the unfriendly kind, and she'd learned long ago paying them mind often got one in trouble.

Her gaze flicked from the bag to the woman's smirk, then back to her whiskey. She used to really be into this stuff back in the day, and at times, sure she did have a craving for the stuff; but she knew all too well were chasing her vices got her.

"Gamorr, huh?" Her tone was dry, carrying that frontier rasp of too many nights with cheap liquor and cheaper smokes. "Can't say I've tried the dancing scene there. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer my fights outside the bar, not in the middle of no dancin' floor. Less risk of friendly fire."

She leaned on the counter, her red eyes finally meeting Juniper's chestnut ones, steady and unblinking. "Name's Alana." A beat passed, her smirk tugging crooked. "You know, darlin', my parents always warned me not to take candy from strangers."

"Though, if ya told me ya name, guess we could be friends." She gave a small raise of her eyebrow, trying to get the name in return now. She was curious what this woman's end game consisted of.

 

[Juniper Le Fey]

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"Who said anything about fighting?" she purred, fingers curling around the shot glass the bartender set down. With a flick of her wrist, she slid the second glass toward Alana, her gaze fixed straight ahead, narrowing with amusement. "Some of the best tantric clubs I've ever set foot in are on Gamorr. Say what you want about them, but those pigs know how to party." Lightning danced in her eyes, playful and sharp, her smirk riding the edge between invitation and threat.

Alana was playing along beautifully. Juniper couldn't read her yet, and that was half the thrill. No names meant both of them had something to hide. Maybe she was a bounty target, maybe a hunter. Maybe something darker- Sith, Jedi, or worse. Whatever it was, Juniper would peel it back, layer by layer.

"Cheers." She lifted the whiskey high, glass catching the dim light before she tapped it against the bar and downed it in one long swallow. Heat flared in her throat, warmth unfurling in her chest. Liquid dinner- maybe not the smartest choice, but it set her nerves humming in just the right way.

Her eyes found Alana Calloway 's again, sharp and steady. "The name's Juniper," she said at last, a crooked smile tugging her lips. "But my friends call me June." The word lingered like a dare, as if to test whether this woman would be bold enough to try it.