Lew Ardellian
Character
Loud, symphonic bass rolled through Cloud 9000, deep enough that Lew felt each beat in his ribs. Ethereal notes drifted above it, rising and falling with the pulse of green light sweeping across the dance floor. Bodies moved in flashes—silhouettes one moment, sharply illuminated the next. Behind a sprawling console of switches, sliders, touchpads, and glowing displays, a bug-eyed alien bobbed its head beneath a pair of oversized audio receivers. Lew had no idea what species it was. Tonight, he didn't particularly care.
This was R&R. A few hours of peace between transport runs, missed sleep, and long stretches spent staring into hyperspace.
He tugged at the front of his jacket. It felt strange being free of his flight suit and unburdened by his utility belt. The white jacket made him look expensive. He knew better. Under different lighting, he might have looked more at home leaning over the counter of a Corellian dive.
But when in Cloud City.
The digital menu floating above the table presented an intimidating array of cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. Lew scrolled twice, found no end to either list, and noticed with some dismay that the thing had a search function.
Sheesh.
He pointed to an image of a pale green drink served in a narrow martini glass. "What's this?"
The Zeltron attendant leaned closer to hear him over the music. "That's our signature cocktail - the Nimbus. Lum, Jogan fruit nectar, mint extract, and tonic, finished with white citrus foam." Her smile brightened. "It's quite good."
"Then you've saved me from reading the rest of this." Lew dismissed the menu with a flick of his finger. "I'll take one."
"Of course."
She slipped into the crowd and was soon lost among the shifting bodies and green light.
Lew glanced at his wrist chrono.
Yep. About that time.
He reached inside his jacket and drew out a slim pack of cigarras. The lighter snapped open beneath his thumb, its small flame briefly warming the cool green light across his face. He drew in, held the smoke for a moment, then let it curl lazily toward the ceiling. For once, there was no deadline waiting on the other side of a cockpit canopy. No cargo manifest. No failing relay. No client demanding to know why a twelve-hour haul had taken thirteen.
Lew settled back against the plush chair.
This is nice.
Feel free to write whatever, this is kind of just an open thread, not specifically PvP or PvE or anything at all - play sabacc, hang out, "Change the music", whatever!
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