First Reply Red fella Blues

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor
Undercover Kit:

Spoiler: Off-duty

* Legion Combat Engineer Multi-Tool

4 X Combat/Utility Knife-Model 01

Legion Combat Pistol Mark I with Whisper-class Suppressor Series

1x stun grenades

Ascension Pistol

Fusion Lantern

Datapad

Garrote

3x stimpacks

He’d been here for a while. Long enough that the barkeep had stopped asking if he wanted another, and just started bringing them over. Something dark and local. No ice. Burned on the way down, not enough to make him cough. He appreciated that.

Nos sat near the corner of the cantina’s half-lit lounge, the back of his chair tilted just enough against the wall to keep his peripheral open. A habit, not intentional.

The place was lived-in—scarred tabletops, dusty lights, a dartboard that hadn’t had a clean center in years. Background noise hummed with low conversation, a holonet sports reel, a swoop bike engine backfiring in the street outside. It was the kind of place where people came to be rather than be seen.

Nos somehow fit in.

Civilian clothes for once—dark, well-worn. No armor. Just a jacket slung over one chair back and a knife tucked just out of sight. His glass held steady between two calloused fingers, half-empty and warm.

There was a lot he could’ve been doing. Reports to file. Debriefs to send. Transit to book. But that all could wait. Life was moving too fast.

From the outside, he looked composed—quiet, maybe tired. From the inside? There was a stillness to him antithetical to rest.
If anyone asked, he'd say the op went clean. It even did. But he wasn’t celebrating. Not really. His eyes lifted slowly, scanning the cantina. A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face when his gaze lingered near the door. Hope? Regret? Hard to tell. He thought he had seen someone he knew. It was gone a second later, replaced by that familiar flat calm.

He took another sip.
Someone else's story might start here.
His own? ...That depended on who walked in next.

@Open (First reply)​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Nos Voros

Braze sauntered in, boots padding softly against the worn floorboards as he scanned the room. His gaze drifted past the regulars until it landed on a funny-looking man, broad-shouldered, definitely the biggest fella in the place. That would do he decided.


Without a word, Braze strode over and came to a casual stop in front of him. He looked him over head to to briefly quirked both brows up with a light forward s tilt of his head, and then... smiled.
He didn't ask anything or speak. He just reached out, took the man's drink straight from under his nose, and knocked it back in one smooth go.

He exhaled lightly, then flipped the empty glass and pressed it upside down onto the table with a crisp thunk.

​

​

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor

The glass vanished from his hand like it had volunteered for service.

Nos didn’t blink, hand held steady mid sip as he watched the kid throw it back like it was a dare. The thunk of the upturned glass was clean. Intentional. A message.

Nos looked at it for a moment longer than necessary, then up at the Echani. A late teenager or something. Nos's tired, turquoise eyes were sharp against shadowed light. His scar tugged faintly as he gave a subtle tilt of his head.

His voice was low, but steady.

“Was that for show, or are you planning to swing at me next?”

He gestures lazily at the barkeep without looking away from the boy.

“Two more. And keep the first one honest.”

If there was tension, it didn’t reach his shoulders. If he was about to stand, he didn’t.

He just leaned forward, elbows to table, gaze steady on the kid like he was parsing a file. Or a threat. Or something less clear.

“You always pick the biggest guy in the room, or just the ones drinking alone?”
He reached towards the topped off pint that bartender hesitantly slid down the counter.
“Bad habit. Gets people hurt.”

He knew the pint wasn't going to reach his hand.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nos Voros
Braze looked about the bar no one seemed to challenge him directly. He shrugged, " Looks like no one here think they are tougher than me... It's more impressive to pick someone bigger. " He mused with a smirk.

Braze smiled as he moved to pull out a chair and set one boot on the seat and settled himself perching his rear on the top of the back and crossed one leg over the other. He was small in stature but sitting down in such a ridiculous way allowed him to sit higher than Nos' eye level.

"Drinking is a bad habit indeed. " he chirped.

"Especially sad lonely drinking... I told someone else they should stop drinking not too long ago... " Braze offered simply seemingly amused at the prospect that Nos hadn't tried to deck him yet. "My unsolicited advice is he should have quit before he was a head. "

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor

Nos didn’t rise to meet the boy’s gaze.
Didn’t flinch at the posture play either—boot on the seat, body perched on the chair back like a rooftop sniper with something to prove.
He just took a slow sip of the fresh glass of Alpheridian Stout, glass still frosty, and a perfect head of the creamy, bitter chocolate-coffee foam with the smooth cold undercurrent of the dark brown liquid in his glass and set it down, gaze steady. Measured. The biggest insult was that the boy downed it in one draught - it was a sipping drink.

A dry pause.
“Shame.”

There wasn’t venom behind it. Just exhaustion. A statement of fact from a man who’d buried a few corpses that thought the same thing.
He looked at Braze like a puzzle half-solved.

“Sad lonely drinking, huh.”
A faint exhale—not a laugh. Almost a sigh. He'd take sad lonely drinking any day over returning home right now. At least for a while. He'd suck it up, bite the bullet and head back to Fondor eventually.

“Better than bleeding out alone in the snow, if we’re scoring habits.”

He didn’t ask about the decapitation joke. Didn't even blink at it. Paperwork on the Felcado case was a mess he wouldn't forget anytime soon.
Just tilted his head a notch and tapped the rim of his glass once with a finger.
Nail on glass. Soft. Sharp.

“So what’s your angle, kid? You just here to steal drinks and pick fights?”

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t square his shoulders. Just stayed seated.

But the energy shifted. He spotted the hair, eyes, fingers. The kid was at least part Echani. The drinks might just be an excuse to fight.

“Fine. After I finish this one.”

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nos Voros

"I don't like watching respectable people rot in cantinas," he chirped simply. "Can I help it if I get a bit of fun in now and then?" he asked softly. "If you wanted to be left alone, you could drink at home~" he added with a teasing lilt. "If all alcohol tastes like that, I think I'll pass... that stuff was nasty," he commented, still feeling the urge to upchuck the drink he'd downed. "People don't go to cantinas alone unless they're looking to get lucky or feel sorry for themselves about something. There's better things to do than drink."

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor

Nos listened idly, savoring the drink lest it also be snatched – though by the sound of it, the echani-something didn't have a taste for it. Shame.

He didn’t cut the kid off. Didn’t roll his eyes. Just let the words roll past. It had been a long operation, some of it blurred together, but the white haired guy seemed good natured about it. An odd shift from a spacer's boast that he started with. That last dig about better things to do stuck out.

“I like the taste of it.”
A dry shrug.
"Don't have to be horny or sad to go to a cantina. Sometimes you're in the area and could use a moment to unwind after a job, before hopping back on a shuttle an sitting in hyperspace.”

He sipped again, slow. A hint of caramel in there too, he noticed. He might have to order a stein to take home.

“I think I'd rather sit in a cantina sober than drink at home, though. That is how people rot, that's just alcoholism.”

There was something tired in the way he said it. The company of strangers is preferable to odd tension back home.
Then his gaze flicked back up to Braze.

“And if you think I'm respectable, you're greener than you look.”

Still flat. Still calm. But there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Almost a smirk.
A respectable killer, an oxymoron by Nos's measure. He gestured idly toward the glass the kid had finished off.

“Next time, sip it. It’s made to last. Tastes better on the tongue than in the stomache.”

Nos savored the dregs of the glass.

Then set it upside down on the counter, directly in front of the bold twink.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nos Voros
"There's plenty to do at home," Braze countered simply. "And at home, you don't generally get bothered by strangers," he added.


"I have family at home... I like being there with people I care about and love—and who also love me—instead of out and about," he went on, speaking his mind freely.

"And you were supposed to get angry and try to punch me in my smug face for stealing your drink," Braze added before letting out a biiiiiig yawn, stretching wide and covering his mouth. He felt warm, a little sleepy, the drowsiness creeping in.


"There's plenty to do at home... like gardening, or playing with the fuzzy critters... or sculpting, or drawing, or music, dance, katas~ I can think of soooo many more fun and enjoyable things than sitting around in some place full of strangers to relax," he mused, smirking as he noticed the glass placed upside down, a devious little chuckle slipping past his lips.

He leaned back and raised one boot up... And slowly moved it out as if going to dare place his boot on the man's shirt or shoulder.

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor

Nos watched the boot rise without moving. He just set both elbows on the table, laced his fingers together in front of him, and let Braze have the full weight of his stare.

A long pause.

“Try it.”

Calm. Like an instruction, not a threat.
Then—almost as an afterthought—he added:

“We should probably take this outside if you're serious about it.”

Another pause passed, this one drier.

“... Are you here to fight?"

He leaned back again, just slightly. Not relaxed—just repositioned.

“All that talk about gardening and love - You’re either a Jedi, a liar, or just... young.”

He glanced at the bartender and gave a nod, collecting the tab.

“Besides. The strangers here are less dangerous than the strangers at home.”

He didn’t say it with weight. Didn’t explain it. Trauma-dumping a pregnancy announcement from your ex-assassin ex-fiance who moved herself into your home was a little much sharing for a stranger.

The Zeltron Empathic bleed betrayed the emotion, however.

... Yeah, Nos would rather fight a talkative stranger instead of talk about that.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nos Voros
"If you insist," Braze said, standing up and hopping lightly to his feet. He was light as a feather as he actually landed on Nos's shoulder for a fleeting moment, balancing with a cheeky ease before springing off with a playful push.


He touched down near the front door and slipped through it, backwards, no less, making the motion look oddly graceful and effortless. With a smirk, he brought two fingers to his eyes in a quick gesture, then pointed them back toward Nos in a wordless, mischievous motion. " Better hurry up if you want your com link back~" he said tossing a rather familiar looking comlink up and catching it mid stride as he disappeared to the outside world,

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor

Nos didn’t seem to react until after the kid landed on him and sprang off.
Didn’t even glance at the door as Braze slipped through it backwards with Jedi flair.

He just blinked once. Slow.
Then exhaled.

“Taxpayers paid for that commlink.”
A flat mutter.
“karking Jedi, knew it.”

Dropped a credit chit on the bar, didnt count it, should be about right, maybe a bit generous of a tip. He adjusted his coat. Walked for the door like it was closing time.

His Boots hit the street with a steady cadence, each one closing the distance.

“Give back the Commlink.”

Still calm, still casual, he pulled off his jacket, folded it, and set it closer to the wall.

“Then I can embarrass you in public.”

He slowly reached up to tighten the leather glove on his right hand. He didn't want to hurt the kid. He wanted another stout, a nap, and a quiet patrol tomorrow.

The chances of him getting any of those were slim.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nos Voros

"I'm a taxpayer too. I paid for half of it." Braze said already fussing with it to see if it had any kind of security to it or was just an open comlink whos contacts and messages he could scroll through.

"Relax, I'll return the commlink after I program it to play romantic ballads every time you open it."
He chirped moving to keep his distance as he walked backwards seemingly well aware of objects around him with out even looking at them.

"You know this would be a lot scarier if you weren't folding your jacket like someone's grandpa about to scold a rowdy teen."

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor

Braze was still moving backward, breezy and too aware—half watching, half baiting.

The thing about Force-users, Nos had learned, was they didn’t just see movement. They felt intention.
So he stayed calm. Still. Just enough to blur the lines. It helped he was still exhausted from the undercover job. It wasn't necessarily bad natured, just a bit worn.

The boy made a joke about takpayer ownership as he was setting the coat down, Nos simple grumble something noncommittal, acknowledging the words.

"Relax, I'll return the commlink after I program it to play romantic ballads every time you open it."

That hit Nos sideways.

There was a short, rough sound, a quick snort that gave way to a short chuckle. He rubbed the side of his nose like it didn’t happen.

“That'd be the most romance I’ve heard out of comms in... a while.” Offhand, casual bitterness barely seeped in. Words just intended as banter, only for it to ring true halfway through the delivery.

"You know this would be a lot scarier if you weren't folding your jacket like someone's grandpa about to scold a rowdy teen."

“You sure I’m not a grandpa?”
A pause. Delivered so dry Nos might even be serious.
“Feels like that’s exactly what this is.”

He stepped forward, coiled, precise, but still just indulging in a cultural exchange.

“Besides, I'm not trying to scare you, kid,"

Still calm. Still quiet. But an uncharacteristically jovial smirk dimpled the burn-pocked scar on his cheek.

"Just beat your ass for wasting a perfectly good stout."

It didn't take an empath to read the good natured tone of the banter. It was an old man's humor, Nos admitted to himself. Maybe he was a grandpa.

"Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, ballad boy.”

His stance dropped, one foot angled forward now, balanced on the balls of his feet, even within the durasteel-toed boots - light on his feet ready for movement. His fingers stretched out and flexed once. Old habit.

No weapons drawn, no intent to cause harm, just a man ready to make the kid earn his mischief.

Braze​

 

[Braze]

Nos Voros
Braze paused and pocketed the com-link satisfied with what he had changed the ring tone to.

"About time old timer~" he chirped with a little giggle passing his lips. His face and the tips of his ears were flushed in a warm rosy hue. He stepped back and drew his hands up taking up a back-stance with open hands he crooked two fingers beckoning Nos after him. " Gotta catch me first ~"

 

[Nos Voros]

Outfit: Clothing/Armor

Nos caught the first few seconds of the new ringtone the moment Braze pocketed the device.

He grimaced like he'd just stepped in something.

“What even is that? Is that music?”

The expression lingered a beat too long to be faked. He reached out, retrieved the commlink when it was offered, and set it face-down atop the folded coat.

Then he turned back toward Braze and rolled one shoulder with a soft, leathery creak. The white-haired opponent was energetic, giddy, and already bouncing back into stance with his fingers curled in that playful, beckoning challenge.

Nos didn’t take the bait, just stepped forward one foot at a time.

A deliberate walk. Casual, but purposeful.
Braze looked like he was about to start a footrace. Nos didn’t speed up - the last thing he needed was to gas out early, and furthermore, he was already tired. So he just walked.

“I can do this all night.” he said with a shrug.

He knew the game—burn him out. See if he had discipline.
"Did you want to fight, or just want to be chased?"

His boots kept rhythm with his breath. Steady. Unhurried. His intent was coiled, ready to strike if the hummingbird flew too close, but otherwise conserved his energy.

Let the kid waste his energy first - Nos didn't have as much to waste.

Braze​