Private Orientation Day

[Ryn Trask]

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Interacting with: Tess Wyn-Tai Hannibal Daxos

Ryn barked a laugh at Hannibal's quip, clutching his beer and wearing an expression of mock offense at the doubt leveled at his dancing skills.

"You know what, challenge accepted, Hani!" he declared, blue eyes gleaming with reckless confidence. "I've given her plenty of time to be dancing queen. Don't wanna risk her pulling something before I get out there."

The Kuati pointed a finger and gave a tongue click towards the cadat with a wide splitting grin.

"You, my friend, are on wingman duty. Keep the drinks safe. I'll handle morale."

It was right then that a sharp cry tore through the air.

"HONEY!"

The grin vanished from Ryn's face in an instant. He spun toward the sound, the bottle halfway to his lips, and froze when he spotted the scene unfolding across the flashing dance floor.

Tess was dangling in the grip of a Trandoshan built like a durasteel wall, its scaled hand clamped around her collar.

"Oh feth," he cursed, his expression shifting from amusement to wide eyed alarm. He didn't think; Ryn rarely did. Beer still in hand, he shoved through the crowd, ignoring the startled yelps and elbows as he went.

"Hey, you kriffing scale head!" he shouted over the pounding bass. "Put her down!"

Subtlety was never Ryn's style. Instead of waiting for Hannibal to handle it with his usual calm, he charged forward, swinging his leg in a quick, decisive kick aimed straight at the Trandoshan's crotch.

It should have been heroic. It should have been effective.

It wasn't.

The resounding clang that followed was like a death knell for his pride. The Trandoshan barely flinched, protected by what was clearly a plastcrete codpiece. Ryn, however, doubled over with a strangled curse, hopping backward on one foot.

"Oh kriffing, son of a -- what the feth was that!?!" he gasped, his face scrunching up in agony.

The club's lights flashed red and blue as people turned to watch. The music hiccuped but didn't stop. Of course, all eyes were on him now, the idiot cadet hopping on one foot in front of an eight-foot lizard.

It was at that point that Ryn did the next best thing. And simply tossed his beer to the Trandoshan's face, where it smacked him right on the snout and splat beer everywhere.

It was super successful, Ryn had effectively collected all the aggro, as Tess was dropped like a sack of Geldun sun apples and the lizard swung right at Ryn's oh so pretty face.

 

[Tess Wyn-Tai]

Location: Dance Floor
Tags: Hannibal Daxos | Ryn Trask

She hung a good few feet off the floor, the Trandoshan's grip on her collar squeezing all smart remarks from her throat. Her fingers scrabbled uselessly at its scaled wrist. She kicked and twisted, her shouts lost to the pounding bass. Then Hannibal's voice cut through. It was low, dangerous, and steady enough to make even her pause. But the Trandoshan didn't. Its yellow eyes didn't flicker. It either hadn't heard, or simply didn't care.

Tess kept flailing, more instinct than strategy, until her muscles screamed. "Feth it," she muttered, then went limp. Dead weight.

The sudden lack of resistance made the Trandoshan grunt, adjusting its hold. Claws scraped her collar. It wasn't much, but it bought her a moment. Enough time to glare up through a mess of hair and sweat. Then Ryn appeared. Of course he did. He charged through the crowd like a hero from an old holovid. For a moment, she almost smiled.

Then his kick landed. The clang was spectacular. Even in the chaos, Tess blinked. "Protective gear?" she rasped, a mix of awe and disbelief. "What are you... oh!"

A beer bottle smacked the Trandoshan square in the snout, bursting into a spray of foam and amber. For one glorious second, she thought it was over. Then the crowd reacted. The splash hit the lizard, and three other dancers. One of them turned, furious, shoving the wrong person. The shove was returned. A bottle swung. Someone screamed. The dance floor erupted.

Tess dropped hard to the ground, barely catching herself before being shoved sideways. "Honey!" she yelled again, more out of habit than hope this time.

She ducked as a glass shattered somewhere near her shoulder. A Rodian stumbled into her, fist swinging wild. She reeled back and threw one of her own. The punch landed square on someone's jaw, though she neither knew nor cared who.

Music still blared, as if cheering the chaos on, a beat for every brawl. Lights flashed. Bodies slammed. The air filled with shouting and broken glass. Then a fist caught her right in the eye. She never saw whose. White stars burst behind her eyelid. She stumbled back, clutching her face, a sound between a laugh and a yelp breaking from her lips.

"Oh, that's gonna bruise," she muttered, wiping blood from her lip. Around her, the club dissolved into a full-blown riot.