Manifesto

[Geneviève Lasedri]

Ansion was not the type of planet Geneviève would consider 'backworld', but it was far enough out of the way and boasted a fair amount of the galaxy's freshest air. And Gen was spending her day in a bar. That was always a good place to start a story.

Gen had a corner booth all to herself--as if anyone really cared to mingle with someone of her reclusive personality. She had not had any of the alcoholic liquids for about an hour now, but looked the part of a drunk with her hair mussed up and her right hand busy scrawling broken sentences on a piece of paper. Who writes literature in a bar, anyway? Her writing intensified with each minute. There was inspiration coming from somewhere...

The darkly-clad heiress took a break from her musings and peeked around the tavern, always on edge these days. She was currently deep in hiding, depressed and paranoid after having been tossed and slammed about by some mysterious Sith like a rattle in a baby's hands. Apparently, she had almost died, and Gen was not feeling like she wanted to face that down just yet. She needed to escape, no matter the multitude of responsibilities she had. Galactic plans could wait. She was searching for whoever she was.

Settling back into the shadowy booth, Geneviève returned to her writings.

[member="Gavin Ovmar"]

 

[Not Ordo]

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

His ship sat in pieces on the hanger landing pad as a technician was shoulder deep in the sublight drive. Gavin looked at the Togruta as his pot belly and greasy fingers tinker with his prized ship.

"How long is this gonna take sport." Gavin said as he watched parts be removed and dropped to the deck.

"Until its done." The technician replied as he took his arms out and wiped his hands on a rag.

"That doesn't fill me with karkin warm ropos over here." Gavin replied crossing his arms.

"Well, Captain, you ain't making it faster by talking to me are ya?" He said.

"Your gonna be that way huh?" Gavin said putting his hands on his hips. "Want me to bend over for ya too?"

"If it means you get out of my way and let me do my job, yes." The Togruta said.

Gavin threw his hands up, grabbed his bag and walked away. He shook his head nearly the whole way to the bar and only brightened up a bit as he walked in. The sound of the music was not bad for once and there seemed to be a bit less smoke in the air than usual for these kinds of hole in the wall places. He bee lined for the bar and put up a foot as he ordered a tumbler of whiskey and the bottle to go. His roguish grin flashed for a random woman as he carried his bag to a table not far from a corner booth and drank the tumbler down. With a quick pop of a cork he poured another glass and sat down. He slipped off his flight suit top half and tied the arms around his waist showing his white sleeveless shirt.

A black boot started tapping a rhythm as he listened to the music and sipped his drink.

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

It was hard enough to concentrate on writing in a rowdy establishment like this one, but Gen had been 'in the zone' and had been able to ignore the sounds that echoed between the scuffed-up walls. When inspiration hits, everything just clicks into place and things just flow so smoothly. Lasedri's spigot had been opened, one might say.

But curse the fool who smiled at her. While that hardly caught her attention, his incessant tapping was incredibly irritating. It pricked her ears and brought the entire tsunami of raucous noise rushing back through the canals and into her brain, and it killed whatever she had going for her in the writing process. Idiot. Of course, he had every right to keep a rhythm, but Gen was not exactly the most patient type.

Rising up, the woman in the long black trenchcoat pocketed the little notebook she had been using and stepped out of the booth, approaching the newcomer. Rationally, she knew there was nothing wrong with him being here or even giving her a little smile and wink, but she just wanted to blow off some steam. "What's the idea, Happy Pants?"

[member="Gavin Ovmar"]

 

[Not Ordo]

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

Gavin did his third shot and smiled at the bottle before pouring another. His hair that had been pulled back hung loose about his face as he started lightly drumming his thumbs and looking around. He saw the waitress look at him and he smiled and raised a hand to say hello before turning back to his shot. He put his hand on the small glass as a woman walked up and asked him a question. Now in most cases he would probably just ignore an angry woman but in this case he was already starting to feel the buzz of quickly consumed alcohol and he felt the need to live up to his reputation as a bastard.

He looked up at the woman, pushed his hair back from his face and sighed.

"I'm sorry?" he said, "did my pants make you happy or were you asking me to make yours happy?"

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

The man was typical cantina filth from what she could discern, degenerate by her estimation and clearly hellbent on getting plastered. Not that she was a stranger to such types. Her time as a mercenary had brought her into temporary partnerships with some of the heaviest drinkers the galaxy may have ever seen. Really, there was nothing too terrible about this guy. But he was just annoying to Gen for some reason, and she was feeling irritable today.

Lasedri sneered at the man's comment, not at all amused. She stepped a little further into slightly better lighting to reveal her ghostly white eye and the scar that ran down that side of her face. "Nice," she responded sarcastically, "Sure you'd take this?"

[member="Gavin Ovmar"]

 

[Not Ordo]

[member="Geneviève Lasedri"]

Gavin looked at the woman as she stepped around into better lighting. Now Gavin had been around, the galaxy that is, and He had seen some strange things, so to be honest she wasn't half as bad as he saw on the fringe regularly. He took another drink and looked up with a smug grin. His brown eyes holding not a trace of mirth that the rest of his face said so plainly.

"I've had worse sweet heart." he said plainly. He dropped a hand to the bottle pulled the cork with his teeth and poured some more not looking up at the woman. She was either very irritable or she was after something he told himself as he put the bottle down and replaced the cap. He looked up in mock surprise at her and put the glass back down.

"Are you going to hit me, kiss me, or sit down?" he said faking annoyance, "You don't have to stand around all day. sheesh."

 

[Geneviève Lasedri]

"Glutton for punishment, I see?" This one seemed to be the kind of guy who would get some sort of staisfaction with getting smacked across the face by a woman, like some sort of trophy. Not that Geneviève went around hitting people and attracting too much attention to herself. Anyway, that option was negated from the beginning. Of course, kissing was never on the table to start.

But she could handle a conversation. Maybe for five seconds, depending on how stupid and undoubtedly annoying this man would turn out, but why not shoot for some entertainment? On the very rarest of occasions, Gen could, in fact, feel a little devious and enjoy watching people fall off their pride. It was an inevitable event for most and promised to be amusing.

Rolling her eyes, Lasedri took a seat opposite the scoundrel and raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to take his best shot just so she could knock him down a peg.

[member="Gavin Ovmar"]