Empty Glasses

[Dante Sotari]

"Promise?" She grinned, more teeth and challenge than real smile, but she bounced her eyebrows at him in an exaggerated expression before looking back up over the bar.

Eight drinks in, Dante was dull enough around the edges herself that she didn't particularly notice the slight shift in him. Or, if she did, contributed it to his own slink into the bottle. Or in this case, glass. She paused with the drink already at her lips, it taking her a second to realize he had stopped.

"Oh. Um."

Focused on the drink (and the company), she'd missed the music in the background. She frowned slightly, her eyes focusing on his lips, keying into the soft hum of the main chords, which was what led her to the music itself.

It was like the weight of a thousand bodies, sudden and abrupt. Too much. Too much sadness, too much death. Too much loss. And here they were, surrounded in it, drowning in it. This bar, at this moment, suddenly became absolutely suffocating. Why had she ever thought coming here had been a good idea? She looked around for a moment, and then-

"To getting the kark out of here," she said, raising the glass and tipping it back faster than any of the previous rounds.

She stood up, a little too fast and swayed a bit, shaking her head to clear it enough.

Free booze or no, she needed some air. And a different venue.

"Come or stay," she said, tone too carefully indifferent for actual indifference.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

"Statement of intent." Challenge answered with one of his own as the stakes were pushed up.

Morgan didn't immediately down the drink.

Instead he watched her for a moment over the rim of his glass. A beat. Then he nodded along, "I will drink to that." before slamming it over with more force than his previous shots. His skin was tingling and as Vance rose, he instinctively steadied her a bit by her elbow. Only to stumble himself a moment after that and catching himself on the corner of the bar and her hand supporting him.

"My hero."

A chuckle before Vance nodded again, this time expression serious. As serious as it could get with the amount of drinks in him anyway. No other words spoken, the nod enough to convey meaning.

They left the bar and nobody noticed them this time around.

All of them were too occupied; with the drinks, the music, each other, every single one of them too busy drowning their own worries. What were two less souls at the bar in the face of that growing weight on their shoulders? Being the ones that had survived, when so many of their friends and family had been left on Mirial. The wind bit his skin as they exited the bar.

He pulled his coat closer and as the door shut behind them so did the music get cut off.

"Where to, Rook?"

 

[Dante Sotari]

She straight up laughed at him when he went to steady her and ended up stumbling himself. But there was no meanness in it, just a sudden bark of surprised laughter. Surprise at the desire to laugh, at his failed attempt at something resembling chivalry- whatever- both or neither. Shoulders brushed as they left the bar, Dante trying to keep a certain slice of air between them, but the alcohol, crowd and inclination meant they bumped a couple of times before stepping out into the cold.

Dante's entire face scrunched up against the blast of frozen wind. She turned around completely once, then turned around completely in the opposite direction. Usually she just drank in this particular bar. They knew her there, usually gave a discount for service members and people usually left her alone. So she wasn't as familiar with the other places within walking distance.

"That way," she said, picking the right at random. She pointed to punctuate, the motions just the wrong side of exaggerated.

If someone had asked her, she wouldn't have said she was drunk. Tipsy for sure. Probably shouldn't operate a speeder or a rifle, but she could find her way back to the barracks and not get hit by someone on the way there. So. Not drunk.

Ish.

It didn't take long to find somewhere warm and inviting. Louder than the bar they had left, but honestly that suited her just fine. Harder to talk about anything serious. She pushed the door open with one shoulder, the music and the sounds of a boisterous crowd washing over them both as they left the cold behind.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

He didn't feel insulted at the laughter.

In fact, it caused him to chuckle with her as they walked out and got to the right. It didn't take long for their stride to take them to a club - low-key one this time, there were no blurry, washed-out neon signs or anything of the sort. Just the big doors giving entry to the warmth and heartbeat of the crowd. For a moment Morgan closed his eyes and let the music stream through him, nothing of the dreary sadness of the bar.

You never knoooooow....

Morgan knew the song from something, but what it was... he couldn't rightly say right now. They deposited their coats at the wardrobe and hit the bar again. He would have gone for a dance, but his throat was parched yet again.

"Mmmm, think I was supposed to buy you a drink." He mumbled as they leaned against the bar, her looking over the dance floor now, him briefly studying the line of her jaw and clavicle, before returning his attention to the 'keep. Two fingers flashed and soon enough two shots were placed before them. It felt good in his hand, not too much weight, just right and fresh.

"To... forgetting."

Didn't wait this time and instead he barreled it over almost immediately.

 

[Dante Sotari]

She felt a slight flutter in her chest when he said that, but she didn't look back at him and quashed it down utterly before finally glancing at him.

"Technically it was a beer, but I'm not gonna say no to a shot," she said with a smirk, accepting the glass from the bartender with a nod.

Technicality, but it meant that if he remembered the rest of it (and she was honestly hoping he didn't, wasn't she?), she'd be able to blow him off. She'd only said that to keep him focused, to keep him fighting. She hadn't meant it. Not really.

All this time
You're just tryin' not to lose it

She didn't do reruns. Sure they'd had fun, but there was too much to lose. It'd be too easy to.....

You can always learn to fly
You never do until you do it

Dante had played that song before.

"To forgetting," she agreed quietly before downing the shot.

Even to herself, she wasn't sure how she meant it. To him forgetting what she'd promised? Forgetting Mirial? Or going back farther? She'd been trying to forget it. To drown it out. First in running. Then in work. And always, at the end of the day, in a drink or three.

Too much. He kept saying chit that brought it back. When she was drinking she didn't want to be reminded. There were a short number of ways to shut a man up thoroughly, and Dante wasn't about to kick him or kiss him so she signaled for another round.

"You know this song," she commented, dragging him to here and now instead of anything else.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

His fingers were already rubbing the rim of the empty glass and studying her.

It was all a blur.

Alcohol coursing through his body and made him spin just a little bit. "I do," Morgan mumbled as the second shot came, but he didn't grab for it immediately. It was a difficult thing- forgetting, he could still recall every screaming minute of her holding him as everything collapsed around them. Could remember the pain, the feeling of being weak and unable to actually do anything. Not to help, not to move, not to give her support or anything else.

Hadn't been a good experience.

But this night was helping towards erasing it, ever so slightly. "Shot done, think I should get that kiss now, hm?" They were closer to each other now and Morgan couldn't rightly remember when that happened, elbows touching, he could almost feel her breath on his skin.

Difficult thing... this... whatever it was.

But Morgan liked it, liked the moment and the tension, it felt almost as if it could snap and then the world would turn upside-down. Whatever that meant. His attention was brushing up and down, side of her face, curve of her lips and back to her eyes. Motion repeating, once, twice, his heart was thrumming between his ears and his focused was shrunk. Like a needlepoint. Just him. her. The rim of the glass brushing against the texture of his skin.

Her breath, her lips, her eyes shining slightly against the backdrop of neon.

 

[Dante Sotari]

Take a chance we can dance up in mid-air
Feel so good, I could die, but I don't care

Her eyes had been focused on some point mid-club. But those words brought hazel gaze snapping right back to him. Dante froze, like a durni caught in the headlights of an oncoming speeder. Trapped somewhere inside of a promise that she both wanted and didn't want to keep. At some point she'd angled slightly toward him, and he'd stepped in- or maybe it was the other way around, she wasn't really sure which it was or if it even mattered.

Walk slow and low on a tightrope
Hope it lasts but you know, you never know

She could feel his gaze as it skittered across her skin and for a moment forgot to breath. She leaned in, barely realizing it herself for a moment.

And then-

"Not a beer, champ," she shot back, reaching out to snag her shot and stepping back slightly. The lean in had been to get the drink. Of course. From the outside it could have been seen as a playful tease. But he couldn't feel how hard her heart was beating.

Of course, the drunk are rarely as subtle as they think they are.

"To beer, but never after liquor..... or is it the other way around?"

She downed it, the song coming to an end.

Oh, oh, you never know
You never know

A new piece kicked up, and before he got a chance to respond, she pushed away from the bar, movement a little heavier than it needed to be.

"Dance now. Good song. Come or stay."

Without looking back, she stepped away and headed toward the dance floor.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

Hate to see you leave... love to watch you go.

Morgan enjoyed the kick and burn of the last shot glass as he watched her stride away. If he hadn't been as drunk as he was he might have been mildly peeved by the entire thing. Instead it just amused him, slow grin tugging up an dominating the scene. He pushed off. Stood, rising up and then caught himself by the counter once more.

The pain in his body was a dull roar now. Faint, covered by an ocean of liquid poison rushing through his veins and making everything muddy.

The song was brilliant.

He felt it humming through his bones as Morgan followed along. Every step was locked into the step of the rhythm, until he reached her. Off the corner of the dance floor, tucked away from the coiling mass. She watched him and then her body turned, pressed against him as Morgan reached her.

Just a dance, the broken thought filtered through the haze as hands brushed up her hips and settled comfortably to support her movement against him.

Just. A. Dance.

As his breath hitched slightly from the pressure, fingers pressing in just a fraction and touched skin.

 

[Dante Sotari]

Just a dance.

The music thrummed, external metronome taking over for heartbeat and breathing as they moved. They didn't talk, didn't need to, and she liked it that way. Instead they gave themselves to the music, the world focusing down to a pin prick of rhythm, tension, and movement. Everything else lost in the haze of darkness, neon, and alcohol. Nothing that came before or would come after mattered.

At first, it was just a dance. At least, that was what they told themselves.

And then, it was just a kiss. Not really breaking her own rules. Not technically. Kiss didn't mean anything. Didn't promise anything. So what if it was tight with heat and longing? With a thousand seconds ticking by fed by the same trapped beneath the rubble.

It was just a kiss.

The song ended and she broke it, not even rightfully remembering who, precisely, had started it.

She almost didn't. Almost stayed, right there. Part of her wanted to. But part of her knew-

"I need another drink," she murmured. "Come or stay."

But her hand didn't leave his this time, and there was no indifference in the last words.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

Another?

drink?

He let that marinate in his mind for a little while, until Morgan realized he was really just studying the curl of her lips. "Down." He murmured back, before dragging his eyes back to hers and nodding. The tug of her hand on his ushered them both back to the bar. They leaned, almost sprawled against one another there. The touch coming natural now, easy, pleasant.

Fingers went up, showed two and as they waited Morgan hummed.

She hummed with him.

It was pleasant.

Part of him didn't want to leave this moment, just her pressed against him, the music curled around them and moving them forward, he was about to say something... witty until the barkeep saved him.

Two shots.

Something told him that they wouldn't be getting any more, even if they asked for it. "To... the dance." and the kiss and the press and the feel. His free hand curled around the edge of the glass, the other still held by her. Even now she didn't let go, the cut of her nail brushing against his skin and making it feel like fire just underneath the surface.

The shot was empty in no more than a second.

Burst of sensation in his mouth, it burned as well. The next song came up, he didn't get the words, but the tune... the tune was good.

"Dance now. Good song. Come or stay." Closer now, lips already touching her ear, how did that happen? Didn't matter. There was a simple tug, a pull in the direction of the floor. Make or break, he needed the dance, needed the movement, his mind was already ten seconds farther into the future and his body followed along. They were back there and their bodies fit together like clockwork.

So smoke 'em if you got 'em.
'Cause it's going down

 

[Dante Sotari]

"The dance," she echoed softly, watching him pour it back. Eyes tracked along his arm, across the curve of his fingers and to his lips, following the motion with a certain intensity before following suit.

Leaning against the bar, against each other, the last shot put her over the edge to where she could finally say 'kark it' to everything that wasn't his breath on her cheek, the sound of the music and the delicious haze that somehow brought the two together. She tilted her head slightly, about to signal for another shot because why not- she was not aware enough to catch the 'cuttin' ya'all off' look the bartender had shot them after the last glasses had been deposited. But his words tickled her ear and the song filtered through and she thought 'another can wait.'

I'll never get to heaven
'Cause I don't know how
Let's raise a glass or two

"Is a good song," she agreed with a murmur.

Despite his repetition of her words, the tug of his hand said 'come', and this time, she followed him.

The core was heavy but the edges light as feathers. Somewhere between leaving the dance floor and retaking it, the idea of 'just a dance' had been left behind, traded in for heat and weight and want. For closed eyes and moving bodies. For a certain sweet tension muddled by fog instead of by the argument between what it ought to be, what she was willing for it to be, and what is was.

At some point, long after that song had changed to something else (when? She hadn't even realized) she whispered against his mouth.

"Let's get out of here."

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

They hung there between the desire to move and the desire to sink and never let go.

His nose was still hugging the edge of her neck, where soft lines were brought together and transitioned to shoulder, if you allowed it. Her voice filtered through the haze, through the heavy breathing, through the humming of his skin and the sweat trickling down his neck and making him want to itch at it for just a moment. Everything was more intense, everything about them anyway.

Morgan nodded, kissing that point where she was most tender, before pulling back.

"Let's." It took a moment to catch their bearings, to disentangle feelings and limbs, but eventually they were off- there was still a sway to his walk and to his movement as he helped her into her coat.

She him in his.

Even here the instinctive reflex was to work together for the common goal. Towards success, even if the mission was small enough not to truly matter.

The bite of the cold hit him as they exited, somehow her hand in his again, curled in and holding tight. Morgan didn't mind, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply... breathe for a moment. The music had been cut off, but the streets were calm now. Too late for newcomers to bustle in, but not early enough to have people exit and stumble to their bunks.

"My place?"

 

[Dante Sotari]

Honestly, his help with her coat was more helpful than hers with his. But the blast of cold wind in her face sobered her up slightly.... not that she particularly wanted it to. It wasn't much, just a small slap to the face and for a moment it was almost enough to bring up a 'nah, this was a mistake' and her fingers loosened in his for a heartbeat.

And then the wind hit again, pushing slightly unsteady knees and she leaned into him, eyes closing and breathing in deeply the scent of him, the solidness and the weight. Scotch and spice and earth, and there was too much heat to ignore.

"Yeah," she said, her voice a little thick. "Yeah. Let's grab somethin' ta bring back first. Store's right there, and ish a cold walk."

Last time, they'd shared a six pack and a night, only dipping into that booze after she'd made the invitation. This time a bottle, already drunk before any agreement exchanged. Laughing, leaning against each other, hands wandering as they threaded through the slender population still abroad at this hour. Drawing glances and then away again. Two drunk idiots, and it was clear what they would be doing shortly. They passed the bottle between them, hiding it under coats and laughing once when a patrol went past.

"Are there public drunkenness laws on Bastion?" She teased. "Cause yer all over the place."

Despite the tease, she was just as much all over the place as he was.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

She didn't get an immediate response.

Too busy taking a swig and leaning both against her and the wall at the same time. It was good scotch, blend, probably spooked the shopkeep when they first came around striding into the shop. Didn't matter how drunk they were, it was clear from posture that they were both military. But once the red noses and dopey eyes made it clear they were just hear for another pick-me-up, they were send on their way.

"Oh, you's know me." Morgan drawled softly while pulling her a touch closer and kissing the corner of her mouth. "I gots my ways with words." Open hand slipped by and trailed a promise.

"I think... I think... think I could talk us both out of it."

He thought about it.

Then nodded seriously.

"The answer is yes. I could. Mmhm." He stole another kiss and then they were off again, turning one corner and then another, until the apartment complex rose up in the distance where he hired a condo. It was all nice and neat and clean... for the most part anyway. But that would come later. "Did you... did we sing? I remember singing, it was good."

 

[Dante Sotari]

"Good with words?" She scoffed, liberating the bottle back from him when he moved in to kiss her.


"YOU sir," she said, wavering slightly, eyes crossing a little, "Just talk too much. Throw 'nough words at someone and something is bound ta stick. Better things you can do than-"

She paused, looking bemused for a moment as just what she was saying dawned on her, and then started laughing again.

"Okay, yeah, maybe jes talk ta 'em, cause other ways you could use that would probably get ya arrested anyway."

"Could talk to you."

"Me? Nah. That's where better things come in..."

And they were kissing again, leaning against the door jam into the apartment building. In part because she just wanted to. And in part to make them *both* stop talking. Talking was no good and yet-

"Hmm? What? Sing? Um. No. I don't sing sport. But you did."

The memory of the words etched into the curve of her throat, murmured there as they'd danced. As he'd moved against her.


Let's swallow the moon and the stars
Let's wallow just right where we are
Oh when we're high
Oh my God, you blow my mind

The words still burned against her skin.

They stumbled up the stairs, fumbling keys and coats, hands and lips until the door closed behind them.

Let's just do it one more time, one more time

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

She pressed him back against the door and he stumbled, until her body steadied him against her.

"Mmm, push-..." Cut him off two breaths into the syllable and everything faded again. Just her, just him, just the music still burning against their skin and the humming as they murmured nothings. A blink, they were against the counter. Two blinks and it was the chair with whiskey shared between them, her firmly pressed against his lap. Three breaths and the bed felt snug, her arms pinned down.

Four... her weight against him as position rotated.

Morgan couldn't keep up anymore and so he stopped trying. Letting breath, touch and movement take over, taking it wherever they went without worry or concern, they had the whole night ahead of them, after all.

Teeth ran down her neck, her hand brushed his jaw, so many sensations.

"You blow my mind." He sang, whispering against her lips.

 

[Dante Sotari]

Flashing dark and light, the spin of the room, the feel of his arms around her, the one solid thing from moment to moment. She held on tight, hungry and insistent. At some point, one of them finished the bottle and it was left behind with shoes and clothes in a line across the room. He whispered against her neck and she tilted it back, closing her eyes, flashing back to the moment and fire in the club when he'd murmured the same words against her skin. She chuckled low against his ear, responding with quiet words that brought a smile to his face.

Dante didn't often promise things. But when she did? She delivered.

****

Morning dawned grey and windy and already she was wondering who she could petition to lower the volume on the sky. She rolled out of the bed, only half awake. Mouth stuffed full of cotton and head splitting she would have headed back to bed after the stumble to the 'fresher. But it was halfway through the necessity of a morning post bender that she remembered where she was.

An irritated sound in the back of her throat, she finished up and splashed some water on her face, drinking directly from the faucet a moment later. Her stomach protested and she promised it better treatment once she split.

Stay? Absolutely not. If she could, she'd get dressed and head out without waking him. That hadn't panned out well last time, but this was his place, people tended to sleep better in their own beds after all.

She opened the door quietly and glanced at the bed, expecting to see a still form.

Had it been empty when she'd rolled out? She hadn't actually noticed one way or the other.

Sigh.

Only half of her clothes were in the bedroom itself, and she could fake her way through comfort of being half naked better than the weirdness of borrowing his clothes, so she clumped on out a moment later.

Then blinked.

Looked at the chrono.

Blinked again.

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

He had been up for an hour or two at that point.

Changed clothes, showered and right now he was busy squatting. If there was one important thing that one simply could not miss each morning it was the morning exercise above all. With their lifestyle they had to make sure that their body was healthy, in top shape and be able to go through any form of punishment that was thrown at them liberally.

No matter what.

Not even a drinking session was enough of an excuse to take it easy for a morning. Then again, Morgan had noticed early on that alcohol didn't seem to have quite the same effect on him.

Not in the aftermath anyway.

It burned, burned good, thighs, bum, legs, lower back, squats were good for a lot of muscle groups. One more, two more, three- that's when Morgan noticed a familiar face staring at him through the door opening. "Morning, Dan." Nothing more. He had realized early on that for some reason she was exceptionally awkward during the morning afters. The last time he had offered her coffee there was this foul expression on her lips, as if he had suggested- well, it didn't matter. If she wanted to chit-chat, she'd offer it herself.

If not?

That was fine.

Four, five. Down it went.

 

[Dante Sotari]

Dante squinted at him. Casual. Relaxed. While she'd been preparing to be annoyed at him for making a big deal over this whole thing, now she was kind of annoyed at him that he was so chill about it. She knew it was irrational, but she didn't really care.

"How the hell are you so energetic?" She muttered.

Her eyes scanned the floor, trying to remember where, exactly, she'd left her pants. Except....

He'd cleaned up. He'd gotten up. Cleaned. And was now exercising.

Clearly not human.

The very last thing she wanted to do was asking him where he'd put her motherkarking pants. She wanted to just put them on, no fuss, and walk out that door. But nooooo he was apparently a neat freak who had to clean up pre-dawn after a night of drinking and.... stuff.... In another world, another life, it was a trait that she might have appreciated. But that was a lifetime ago and it impeded her retreat now and it was therefore annoying.

Either he'd hidden them or she was too hungover to find them, and eventually she gave up.

"Pants?"

[member="Morgan Vance"]

 

[Kenth Typho]

[member="Dante Sotari"]

For a brief moment Morgan watched with amusement as she walked around, bending over sometimes, to find her... pants?

He guessed?

"Clean living, Dan. Clean living." It probably helped to be a HRD who could process that stuff a lot faster than a regular human. So in that sense she was completely right that he wasn't a human.

Neither of them knew that though.

But Dante wasn't asking him and he didn't really mind watching her do her thing, when she was in view. Squats turned to presses turned to stretching, before she finally seemed to give up and eyed him. He eyed her back. Seconds passed and then she came out with it. It was her pants. Which did confuse him a little bit, but the suspicion in her eyes was amusing to say the least.

"Back in the room, next to the bed."

Then he went back to stretching.