Cold. Cold and rainy. That's all these days were now. It didn't matter how hard he hoped the day would be sunny, it was always rainy. That was Corellia for you. If you hoped it was rainy it would be sunny and if you hoped it was sunny, it would be rainy. That's all you could do, hope. Avery looked into the brown liquid, his hand wrapped around the glass in a death grip. Its deep color reflecting his gruesome face, scarred and battered. His plasteel jaw only adding to the whole 'gruesome' factor. Luckily, none of the other patrons seemed to care. They were corellians, he thought with pride, smirking. Of course, they didn't care.
You're home, he thought. he threw back the glass, the liquor running down his throat, burning it. Setting the glass down, he waved the bartender over. "Another." crackled his synthetic voice.
She glared at him, rolling her eyes. "Coming right up." he had to be nicer to her, she'd dealt with him all these months, it was the least he could do.
his eyes drifted from the girl, going to his little part of the bar counter. He grimaced, there it was, mocking him. It stared at him, with its large black eyes, like the obsidian crags of Mustafar.
What's wrong, old friend? it seemed to say to him. He shook his head, letting the notion of a talking mask shake with it. he smiled to himself, maybe he was drinking too much. Maybe, maybe, he was going crazy. Given all he'd seen, he wouldn't put it past him. Avery Regailis, assassin, pilot, commander, madman. They'd definitely think he was crazy if he went telling them all that. No, he wouldn't dare do that. Now, he was just going to sit here and drink, until his day finally came.
You're home, he thought. he threw back the glass, the liquor running down his throat, burning it. Setting the glass down, he waved the bartender over. "Another." crackled his synthetic voice.
She glared at him, rolling her eyes. "Coming right up." he had to be nicer to her, she'd dealt with him all these months, it was the least he could do.
his eyes drifted from the girl, going to his little part of the bar counter. He grimaced, there it was, mocking him. It stared at him, with its large black eyes, like the obsidian crags of Mustafar.
What's wrong, old friend? it seemed to say to him. He shook his head, letting the notion of a talking mask shake with it. he smiled to himself, maybe he was drinking too much. Maybe, maybe, he was going crazy. Given all he'd seen, he wouldn't put it past him. Avery Regailis, assassin, pilot, commander, madman. They'd definitely think he was crazy if he went telling them all that. No, he wouldn't dare do that. Now, he was just going to sit here and drink, until his day finally came.