Private Misery Loves Drinking Buddies

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Blaster Pistol
Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren

Grief was a funny thing.

His uncle had been dead for over a month. Murdered, and that was Gatz's own fault. He thought he'd cried that out weeks ago; thought the sharp pain had turned to a dull ache. He hadn't even liked the man, really. Sure, Uncle Klein had been the last of his family, but the old RSF lieutenant had treated him more like a nuisance than a nephew. But maybe that was fair. Gatz knew he hadn't always been easy to deal with.

But the specifics of their relationship didn't matter, not anymore. Klein was dead. Gatz was still grieving. And tonight in particular, he felt like shit. Maybe that's why he had gone looking for booze.

With a sigh, Gatz stepped into some hole-in-the-wall bar. Even a city as illustrious as Theed had places like this, hidden on the outskirts of the city. It was his preferred place to drink: a year removed from smuggling or not, he was still scum. He would always be scum. There was no point in pretending otherwise, even if he had spent the last year trying to help as many people as he could. So why drink uptown, with all the rich folk, when seedy places like this were where he truly belonged?

Judging by how packed the place was, he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Gatz pushed his way through the crowd and to the bar, leaning against it as all the stools were taken. He waited a few patient minutes, before the bartender—a large Nikto man—finally made it down to his end of the bar. Moments later, Gatz was nursing a glass of bourbon, and wondering how many more glasses it would take before the sting of his uncle's death would go numb.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Wearing: Charcoal Black Naboo Funeral Attire
Equipment: Lightsaber
Location: A random bar
Tag: Gatz Derrevar

It was the end of a long two sleepless days. Brandyn rued many of the words he had said, many of the hugs he had not offered or accepted and most of all he regretted his distancing from Cybelle. It was not right. But it lingered.

And so Brandyn found himself alone among the many patrons of a local dive. It was somewhere he was not known. It was somewhere that people would not look when they sought him. He was no drinker, and yet he nursed his third already.

When he had asked for the hard stuff, he had not expected it to hit as much as it had. Already, he felt his mind loosening and his fears waning. The freedom from pain that the bottle brought was unparalleled. He was already feeling better. But he was also not feeling normal.

”Keep it up friend…it gets better by the third one,” Brandyn said, loudly saluting another that had dark sad rings under their eyes.

He was still able to walk straight, and keep a relatively nominal gait across the man at the bar, but the burden of his heart was rolling away. It was liberating.

His ears perked to the sound of a folk song he knew from his childhood. Something his mother would sing with them when he and his sisters were but toddlers. A pang of grief swung at him, but he countered by breaking out in verse.

”Amidst the stars and worlds afar…Naboo be alway our guiding star…we’ll love this world with all our might…in the day and through peaceful night…”

A wash of grief crossed his face. He sipped from the tumbler in his hand.

”Another ‘keep…another for my friend here…“

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Blaster Pistol
Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren

"The third one, huh?"

Gatz looked down at his second drink of the night, which he'd only sipped from so far. He'd only planned to come out for a few depressing drinks, not get wasted and wake up in a ditch in the morning. But... the more he stared into the amber liquid in front of him, the more getting properly drunk seemed like a good idea.

Why not get wasted? It wasn't like he had anyone left to care.

Gatz knocked his drink back faster than a starving child gobbled food. He slammed his glass back down, and clapped it against the bar twice. Mere moments later, a third drink was slid his way. He slammed that one down too, in a messy fashion, spilling a little bit onto his collar. That glass was also slammed down onto the wood of the bar, but before he could ask for a fourth, the man who'd spoken to him started serenading the whole bar.

Gatz thought, to hell with it, and joined the man. He was tone deaf, and missed half the words, but he met the man's energy if nothing else. The man seemed to actually know the song, whereas Gatz only had a vague memory of it—a memory that might not even be his, but that was just another thing that he didn't want to think about tonight.

But when the song died down, and the man returned to sullenly drinking from his cup, Gatz decided that he couldn't just let that be.

"You look like you need another drink!" He clapped the man on the shoulder, "lucky for you, there's a bartender not five feet away from us."

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

With accompaniment, Brandyn was only emboldened in his singing. He belted out verse after memory seared verse. Despite the dulling presence of the liquor, Brandyn felt a swell of emotion starting to rise.

”Another!”

HIs fourth was downed fast than he could inhale. It left him gasping for a moment, before a grin appeared yet again. “Sing my brother! Tonight we have no cares!”

Liar.

The barkeeper seemed unimpressed, even tending towards cautiousness. Brandyn though was too far gone to notice that only he and his new friend were getting into the singing. The other patrons didn’t seem bothered, some even looked amused, but the two comrade were alone in their chorus.

”Once was a man from Theed town!” Brandyn belted out, as a second folk song in a row began to play.

| Gatz Derrevar |​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Blaster Pistol
Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren

"Sing my brother! Tonight we have no cares!"

Right. As if they'd be drinking so heavily if they didn't have sorrows to drown. But Gatz chose to ignore the cruel truth of life, if only for tonight. So he downed a fourth drink, felt that warm feeling in his belly, and let his spirits be lifted as he joined his fellow drunk in song. The bartender seemed annoyed, and their fellow patrons didn't want to partake, but who cared?

By the time they had sung their way through their third song, Gatz was laying on the table, remnants of his fifth drink dripping down his chin. He was well plastered, his vision swimming like a kaleidoscope. But for once in his miserable life, he was feeling good. He couldn't stand up and walk his way to the bar, but what did that matter?

"H-hey! Barkeep!" Gatz hiccupped, "p-put another drink in... in the thing where the drinks go for my friend and I!"

Gatz weakly clapped his glass against the wooden table.

"And make it something s-strooooong!"

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

“You’ve had enough.” The barkeeper said bluntly.

”Hey. I’m only 5…no 6…in…and my friend here hasn’t even gotten that far…”

He walked over to the bar with all the grace of a dizzy Gungan.

“I think it is time for you two to leave.”

”Fine.”

Brandyn burped.

”Musical talent like ours…is rarely…appreciated…in its time.”

He turned to his new friend, pulling him towards the door.

”Come on. Drinks...at my place…leave these…bar…bar…barbarians behind you.”

| Gatz Derrevar |

| Gatz Derrevar |​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Blaster Pistol
Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren

They were getting kicked out? For what? Gracing this dull place with their musical talent? What a bunch of uncultured swine! This was supposed to be Naboo, and these people were supposed to appreciate beauty when they saw it. Or heard it! But nooo they'd rather stare at their overly expensive stone and glass buildings, that they had to pay ridiculous property taxes on, than be serenaded for free!

"Y-yu'r bar ssssucks!"

His fellow man pulled him to his feet, and started to lead him out of the bar. And Gatz was thankful that he did, because as soon as he started walking, he also started to stumble. Their drinks had been quite a bit stronger than he'd expected, and he was an experienced drunk. Or, he used to be, back when he'd still smuggled.

"Your—" Gatz hiccuped, "your place? Is there more booze there?"

Gatz probably should have been worried that a strange man was dragging him to his house, but that really didn't register to the scoundrel at the moment. He just wanted to forget his woes, and if this man had alcohol, than his home was where he needed to be!

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

“They…don’t get men…men like us…”

Brandyn said, steadying himself against a wall.

“…we can handle ourselves.”

He felt like he could take on the galaxy. All of them. It was truly freeing. Not thinking about his parents deaths, and all that. His parents…

”MORE DRINKS!”

He was already in the lift towards his temporary accomodation. His mind did not even think through whether or not Cybelle would be In his room. Drowning the ever present shadow of grief was all that mattered.

”I got good stuff…from house old…mostly wines…sorry…wine still make drunk eventually….”

He felt like he made sense. Did he make sense?

| Gatz Derrevar | fyi, Cybelle Sal-Soren |​

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren | Gatz Derrevar

Cybelle Elyance sat quietly in the warm luminescence of an unfamiliar, however, well-kept flat on Naboo. It was relatively chilly out but she couldn't feel it from behind panes of tempered glass. Perhaps, it was a reflection of the current devastation. Her achingly beautiful mind was a tumultuous squall of sentimentality that was only held in check by years of training and blind dedication to finding inner peace. Equilibrium. The serene ambiance of the living room, with its soft, glowing lights, and the distant hum of the city, belied the cacophony that rolled within her tranquil visage. It was noise. Too much, noise. The auburn-haired Jedi Knight knew that Brandyn was out in Theed numbing his pain in the only way he seemed to know how. Her heart wept for him.

For his family.

Yet—For all her love, all her grace, she was powerless to ease his sorrow.

As quiet tawny orbs gazed out of the large window overlooking the city's classical architecture, Cybelle couldn't help but feel a deep sense of concern. Brandyn's grief was consuming him…Or perhaps he drank so that it wouldn't. She could feel it as clearly as she could feel the wood of the window seat beneath her hands. As clearly as she recalled his hands in her own. Regardless of the intent or desire it was a choice that was ever so slowly leading him down a path of self-destruction that she worried might swallow him whole. She remembered his bright eyes, once full of hope and adventure-tempered ambition, now dulled by the shadows of loss.

It pained her to see him like this and she longed to reach out… to pull him back from the brink.

If he would have her.

Despite her apprehensions, and her concerns of his path, her love for Brandyn Sal-Soren was unwavering. Cybelle knew the man he truly was - strong, kind, and full of passion. She believed in him, in the good that still resided within his troubled soul. This belief kept her anchored, waiting patiently, and without complaint. His grief was part of her. His sadness, his loss, just as much as his light, and his compassion resided within her. It echoed in the night…A constant reminder.

She would always be there. Waiting, for when he would see her again.

For when the rain clouds lifted.

Cybelle could taste the theme of his evening on the air…Alcohol. She sighed, heavily. It was a bitter flavor coupled with freedom and torment that could only be found in the bottom of a bottle. Delicate hands set about to prepare two drinks. The Force knew and so she knew…Brandyn wasn't alone. Both beverages were identical and the scent of spiced warm rum and rosy apple pie would eventually fill the apartment. Flood the hall to the paved cobblestones outside. A charm to draw them nearer, cartoonishly, leading their intended partakers by whimsy and scent. The warm drinks were likely far lighter on spirits than either man would prefer, but there was Cybelle was adept at many things—healing—First and foremost.

If Brandyn was intent on drinking himself into a stupor, she couldn't stop him or his acquaintance.

But…She could adjust the perspective, and provide guidance, without preaching—and none the wiser.

Her careful and precise preparations were interrupted by the sensation of Brandyn coming closer. Returning. Closing the distance, the fumbling and clumsy gap, between intoxicated heartbeats. Cybelle found that mixing a drink wasn't that much different than cooking or crafting an herbalist's poultice. If she could soothe injured souls through dandelions and wishes? This…Should be within her wheelhouse. Cybelle stood up, her heart skipping a few beats with a mix of dread and anticipation. She wanted to see Brandyn more than anything but...This was new territory. She could only be.

There.

A lighthouse...A raft...A hand, a light, in the dark.

Her hand moved and the large window swung open to reveal the lighted street below. She leaned up on her tiptoes and leaned forward just a little so that she could be seen. Chocolate hair pulled like silk in the wind and she offered a nigh angelic smile to the men that had just been tossed out of the bar. It didn't meet her eyes…But it was innocent enough. Cybelle would seem small, and delicate, while wrapped in a fuzzy pale-jade sweater dress. It was a little too big in some spots. Fitting in others—But blended seamlessly with the cozy atmosphere she offered. The young woman silently steeled herself for whatever state Brandyn might be in, ready to offer the support, the understanding, that he likely didn't know he needed.

She also readied herself to greet his new friend. She could see things…Differently now. Feel the echo of living things as they moved. It was what told her, aside, from drunken limericks humming in the back of her mind that Brandyn wasn't alone. The Hapani knew that the road ahead would be difficult, still, but she had accepted that path long ago.

For better or worse.

"Good evening gentlemen…", her voice would float down from the window like the softest song. Warm. Inviting—And quietly knowing. "Thirsty?"

Brandyn would know the way. It was his apartment, after all.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Blaster Pistol
Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren Cybelle Sal-Soren

"T-this bar serves swill anyways," Gatz spat out, "watered down booze. Rip off!"

His drinking buddy was certain that they could handle themselves, and hold their liquor. Gatz was certain that he was right.

Until they stepped into the chilly night, and Gatz found himself staggering along behind his newfound friend. "Friend." The word seemed odd even in his mind. It probably would have felt alien to ever pass his lips. Gatz didn't have friends. Not usually. Oh there was Valery, but the list ended with her. Everyone else he knew was likely to stick him in the back with a knife.

In his drunken stupor, plodding along the stone paved streets of Theed, Gatz wondered if maybe they ought to. This was a beautiful city, for a beautiful people, full of beautiful culture. And he was anything but. He was scum—born to these streets by accident, and having found his true place on the slimy worlds in Hutt space. Nar Shaddaa had sunk its claws deep into him.

So deep that they might never be removed. And so Gatz might never belong in his hometown again.

Brandyn led them to a building Gatz might have recognized had he been sober. As he was though, he could only regard it as yet another overdesigned apartment made of stone and fragile green glass. And it might have remained unremarkable, if not for the window that was thrown open, and the calming voice that called down to them.

Gatz looked up and saw an angel. Or, at least, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Well, actually, he assumed she was beautiful by her delicate voice. His vision was far too blurry to make out her face at this distance. She asked them a question, and Gatz thought she deserved a proper answer.

"Woah." Was as proper an answer as he could give her.

But before he could actually string together a sentence to say to her, Brandyn was dragging him into the turbolift.

"Dude," Gatz turned to the man in question, eyes wide in disbelief as if he'd seen a unicorn, "who was that?"

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Cybelle’s voice was as a soothing balm to what remained of the feelings of trouble. The last vestige of worry dropped away behind the veil of drunkenness. A Nexu-sized grin accompanied his companions ‘Whoa’. “Whoa, indeed,” he said in what he thought was a charming manner. It wasn’t.

His drinking buddies interest in Cybelle did not go unnoticed, but was not met with any measure of defensiveness. Instead, Brandyn’s chest puffed out in a show of pride. “That. My friend. Is the real deal.” His words tripped over each other.

The journey to the apartment door was short, but twice as long as any sober individual might make it.

“That is the voice of the most pure and honest soul. The voice of one so radiant as to fill my heart with a constant glow. That…my friend…is the woman I am going to marry.”

Brandyn thought he was whispering. Brandyn was very wrong.

| Gatz Derrevar | Cybelle Sal-Soren |​

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren | Gatz Derrevar

Cybelle smiled down at the pair that had clearly lost themselves to more than a little frivolity, though, eventually disappeared from the window to unlock the door. It wasn't that Brandyn didn't have the chit necessary to open it, or the code, but she wasn't altogether certain that he'd be able to make it cooperate in his current state. The slight grin that she'd caught from Bran was enough to keep her smile…Even if she had her reservations.

"Come on in before you freeze…"

She'd been insulated from the chill by panes of tempered glass but she wasn't sure how long they'd been mucking about in the evening air. When she heard the pair stumbling up the stairs, she waved the window closed, quietly, trying not to make too much noise. She could hear Brandyn making a few statements that he surely wouldn't remember in the morning but a cherry rose shade could be seen sweeping down her neck. A swift, maidenly blush, that wouldn't stop anytime soon.

Possibly ever.

She cleared her throat for when the door slid open and her soft smile lingered, so sweet, that it was barely there. Brandyn was a mix of inebriated and jovial at his declarations and Cybelle could only try to hold it all in. The want for those statements to be more than…Liquid courage. Surely, he didn't mean it. Especially not with everything that had been happening. Marriage? He couldn't. Right?

Right.

"Keep it down…You'll wake the whole building.", she chastised lightly but there was a small shimmer in topaz eyes that showed she was mostly teasing. There was an endless level of love and support in her that reached for Bran, always, and forever. "I missed you…"

Such quiet words. Almost, as if she didn't intend to be heard—But had to say it anyway.

The smile that she wore changed just slightly for Brandyn's new friend. It was no less kind and comforting but a little more polite, reserved, for someone she didn't yet know. She reached to take any jacket, robe, or belonging they might want to be rid of while simultaneously guiding them to the living room and out of the hall. It was no small feat, but somehow, she managed. "My name is Cybelle…It's nice to you meet you sir—And it's nice to have you home, Bran."

Well… For what passed as home, for the time being.

She paid both gentlemen fairly equal attention while slipping off to pick up the twin drinks she'd prepared that were still quite warm. There were herbs and spices hidden amongst the rum that would make the world seem less dim. It was the closest she could get to a metaphysical hug without branching out into addictive, harmful, substances. Strangely, it was the herbs she used also helped ward off inflammation and high blood pressure…But they were both too young for that. It was comfort they required. Comfort, she could give. "I assumed you both might want a little something to warm you up…"

She set the tray on the low coffee table and slowly settled down nearby, resting comfortably, with one leg pulled up as her arm wrapped around it. The aroma of spiced rum and apple pie filled the room, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere. A place where they wouldn't be thrown out but kept safe and allowed time to work through whatever it was that sent them to the bar in the first place.

"Tell me…What adventures have you two had tonight?"

Her job for now…Was simple. Keeping them happy, but more than that, just being there. Cybelle was not stranger to taking the pain of a stranger. They were Jedi. It was part of the code. So…Taking on the burdens of a loved one and his friend? That was no struggle at all. She smiled and the halls of her eyes seemed to light up with some measure of comfort. As if their carefree happiness, even temporary, filled her up. Let her glow.

Maybe it did.

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Blaster Pistol
Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren Cybelle Sal-Soren

Gatz could still hear her words in his mind, echoing like the tones of a faint melody. Should he really have been this enamored with the sound of someone's voice? Probably not. Was it just because he was drunk? Maybe. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in so long, someone actually sounded welcoming to him. Someone was inviting him in, instead of warding him off.

When was the last time someone had treated him as anything other than scum? It was the grave he'd dug himself, he knew. There were consequences for the life he had led, and they usually came in the form of being rejected by society at large. But just because it was his own fault, didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

The only people who would have accepted him were six feet under now. Three graves. Three funerals he'd planned himself. If this drunk stranger and his girlfriend(?) were kind enough to invite him in for the night, then Gatz would cling to their kindness. Just for an hour or so. Just long enough to feel... something other than misery, for once.

Then he'd brave the cold again.

"You're gonna marry her?" Gatz turned to the man with a hiccup, "good choice. Just don't buy the ring from a pawn shop. I did that once. I ended up in the hospital."

The door to Brandyn's apartment swung open, and Gatz's finally got a glimpse at his fellow man's personal angel.

Oh wow.

As blurry as his vision was, even he could make out her features this close up. She was beautiful. But more importantly, she was... warm. He hoped the other man was serious about marrying this woman, and not just waxing poetry because they were inebriated. What was that silly phrase? 'If you liked it then you should have put a ring on it?' That didn't sound right, but Gatz was going with it.

Well, Brandyn should put a ring on her. Right now. Err... maybe not while they were drunk. But as soon as the man was sober, Gatz hoped he was smart enough to go down to the jewelry store and buy her a damn ring.

They shuffled inside, and Cybelle—that was her name, and it was as lovely and elegant as she seemed to be—treated them to warm drinks. And Gatz had no idea what it actually was he was drinking, but it tasted like an apple pie with a little spice of rum, and it was wonderful. Almost too wonderful. Like a dream he was inevitably going to wake from.

"Thank you," he managed to get out, after a draught of his warm drink, "I'm Gatz. I, uh, apologize for dragging your... boyfriend home like this."

He might have been raised a street kid, but those streets were still in Theed. If nothing else, Gatz would never lack manners.

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

“It ain’t that cold.” It was. “And I ain’t that loud.” He was. “And I missed you more.” Questionable given his stupor.

Leaning into Gatz, Brandyn slapped him on the chest. “Now don’t go getting…” He was struggling to catch his breath but also find the words. “…all proper on me now…buddy…we are here…to get…drunk finally…remember.”

Gratefully, Brandyn took the offered drink. He leaned over a little, and said thank you with oddly protruding lips like a duck’s bill. He sipped the beverage. It was warm and soothing. He let out a long, “Aaaaaah.”

“We have sung the songs of our ancestors…and some more recent hits too!” He said, toasting the air with his drink. He then corrected his direction and toasted towards Cybelle.

He stumbled past Cybelle to a small crate in the corner of the room. It was unopened, and stamped with the E’Eeverwest family crest. “And for our next adventure…emptying this crate of its contents! Join us! Celebrate…celebrate life…and forgetting your troubles…” His words trailed off into a mournful whimper.

| Gatz Derrevar | Cybelle Sal-Soren |​

 

[Cybelle Sal-Soren]

Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren | Gatz Derrevar

Cybelle watched Brandyn with a mixture of concern and affection as he interacted with his new friend. His exuberance, amplified by an inebriated state, was both incredibly endearing and extremely worrying. They were Jedi. And yes…Their Order was no stranger to spirits—But the fact that they could get called into active duty at any given moment meant that keeping their wits about them was almost a necessity. She could only hope their comms stayed quiet. The small Hapani woman couldn't help but smile at his antics, though, there was a touch of sadness behind the warmth in her gaze.

She knew all too well the pain that often lay concealed behind displays of indifference and joviality.

"…Yes dear…", she responded, though, wishing he might find the presence of mind to pace himself. It was also tempting to argue about who had missed the other more but this was a night where picking and choosing her battles was paramount. Her thoughts lingered not only on his physical well-being, but, the reason for the alcohol in…Excess. The evening was as much about comfort and healing as it was about forgetting…And she hoped to guide it to the former. "Pace yourself—"

She asked, rather, than demanded when the crate of expensive wine she hadn't noticed was brought out into the open. "For me?", her words were tentative but coupled with a thoughtful expression rather than accusatory. She understood the desire to drown sorrows, to escape into the numbness that alcohol promised. Yet…She also knew the importance of facing one's pain, of acknowledging it in the company of those who cared. Cybelle…Struggled with that herself.

She couldn't stand the thought of causing Brandyn more pain with some of her truths. The longer her secrets stayed in the dark, the more, she thought it was the right call. He could never know what really happened on Exegol. He could never know…

Not ever.

Her focus slid to Gatz and the inherent warmth in tawny eyes was unwaveringly steadfast. He would find forgiveness in her presence for things he hadn't asked for. The same endless patience that she offered Brandyn seemed to be a faucet of her nature, rather, than a hospitality-based prerogative. "Please don't apologize…No one can make Brandyn do anything he doesn't want to. Besides…You brought him home…"

Was Brandyn her boyfriend? She hadn't put their relationship into terms that felt so…Small. At least not in her mind. How could she refer to him as something so juvenile when he had become her whole world in short order? The notion of it though, the possession, drew a touch of reserved redness across her cheeks. Not embarrassed exactly but… Innocent.

"So—I am in your debt."

There was something to be said about the air of this young man, now, not so much a stranger. He was an unknown element but the empathy Cybelle had always displayed picked up subtle elements from his awkward greeting. It wasn't like reading a book cover to cover but she knew what it was like to be out in the cold while watching everyone else thrive, love, and live without regret. His presence was marred and clouded by rejection and loss. The Hapani would aim to lift some of that burden. "Please understand…You're more than welcome here Gatz…"

The flat, filled with the warmth of the drinks she'd prepared and the soft lighting, seemed to shrink the outside world to a distant memory. For the moment they were just three people, three friends, sharing an evening. Cybelle let herself be the way she had always been. The way she moved, spoke, and ensured they had what they wanted even if she didn't necessarily agree with it spoke of her comfort in caring for others. A large heart hidden behind the dogma of the Jedi Order. Care, but not too much. Love, but not too much.

Cybelle had long since crossed that line.

Her smile lifted back toward Brandyn and her expression became teasing. "You sang songs without me? I'm hurt…", obviously, she wasn't, but he seemed so proud of it. She stayed where she was for a moment until she felt his mood…Shift. Troubles. It took every ounce of strength she had not to just go to him and try and soothe away his every ache and pain. He would feel the calm of her love wrap securely around him. Careful, protective. Warm…But never smothering. "But you're right Bran…Life is worth celebrating."

"So…Why don't I get us something to go with all this wine? Potstickers and blue-biscuits?"

She got up from the couch and glanced at either of them with a little smile that promised something would soon smell very wonderful in the kitchen. As much as Brandyn might have liked to see a wasted Cybelle in his current state, as a rule, she tended to avoid anything that played havoc on her senses. Especially, not when she knew what they were capable of if left unchecked. One of them had to be the designated driver so to speak. "—And I think there's some of those flower cookies you like from the shore?"

They looked like flowers, but tasted, of lemon-drops. Her Master was the same sort of caretaker Cybelle was and had been sending a steady stream of them every few days in the wake of his loss. It couldn't make up for anything but it was a silent expression of solidarity. Of care. Sometimes it was the small things that saved the world. When the community came together, near, and far, to mourn what never should have been. Cybelle rolled up her sleeves and shot both men a wonderfully winsome smile.

"Do you like citrus, Gatz?"

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Weapons: Blaster Pistol
Tag: Brandyn Sal-Soren Cybelle Sal-Soren

Gatz took a slap to the chest that made him stumble a step or two. The telltale sign of a drunk was when they no longer knew their own strength. But, nerves dulled by inebriation as they were, Gatz didn't even feel the stinging sensation that usually would have accompanied such a (good natured) strike. So he just laughed in agreement—really, Brandyn was right, what use was there in being proper when they were both sloppy drunk—and took another sip of the wonderful concoction Cybelle had mixed for them.

He still didn't know what it was. But, frankly, it could be poison and he'd still finish his mug.

Brandyn stumbled his way over to some crate, all while regaling Cybelle with the tale of their beautiful singing. The bar hadn't appreciated their duet, but maybe Cybelle would. She was a lot nicer than those jerks who'd thrown them out. They'd withheld alcohol. She was offering it. And that probably shouldn't have been his bar for 'nice,' but he was drunk. He was allowed to be stupid.

But even in all of his drunken stupor, Gatz wasn't going to let this nice lady think she was in his debt.

"No debts," he shook his head, "besides, he really brought me here, not the other way around."

There was something just so... well, he'd already used the word once before, but it fit perfectly: there was simply something warm about Cybelle. Here she was, going out of her way to make him feel welcome in Brandyn's home. And, to be honest, so was Brandyn himself. Gatz didn't understand them. On Nar Shaddaa, doing something like this was a death sentence. It was, frankly, mindboggling to him that they would even risk spending time around scum like him.

But then, he supposed that they didn't know what he truly was. If they did, Cybelle wouldn't be offering potstickers and biscuits.

"Citrus?" Gatz blinked at the unexpected question, "I... think I do? I can't remember the last time I had anything even resembling citrus. But I'm pretty sure I enjoy it."

Gatz turned back to Brandyn then, taking a better look at the crate branded with a crest he would have been all too familiar with, had booze not been addling his mind. But if Brandyn's name, and his resemblance to his sister weren't enough to tip off Gatz as to his true identity, then a silly noble crest surely wouldn't do it. Not until he could think clearly.

"What's, uh, in the box?"

 

[Brandyn Sal-Soren]

Brandyn had already cracked the crate open. Lofted high now was one of the items within, a green glass bottle with a house made label on it. A fine vintage from the former E’Eeverwest Estate, his old family home. There was a lot of sentimental value to these bottles. Sober Brandyn cherished them as a reminder of all that was lost.

Drunk Brandyn popped the cork.

”Too much talking. Not enough drinking.”

Cybelle was offering food. She was wise. He needed to eat. But he needed a lot of things that were better for him than alcohol. He scowled slightly towards her. Food was not an acceptable substitute for booze.

He thrust the bottle into Gatz hand.

”Drink!”

Within seconds another bottle was opened, ancient family heritage spoiling forever.

Bottle in hand, Brandyn was beside Cybelle within moments and pulling all of her offerings out of her hand and laying them on the kitchen countertops. “I know what you are doing,” Brandyn whispered with a surprisingly non-confrontational tone, “and I know what I am doing.”

His thumb caressed back of her hand quickly. “Sing with me…”

He glanced at Gatz. “Ever heard the music of Balustrade Madeirre?“ He said, calling out one of the muscians that he and Cybelle would listen to in their youth. Many a summer day had been wiled away to the tunes of his lesser known tracks.

He looked back at Cybelle, and began to hum the tune to Down to the Core. The song had been popular with young Nabooians in the years of their secret romance. His eyebrows lifted, as an offer for her to break out.

| Cybelle Sal-Soren | Gatz Derrevar |​