Location: Out In The Desert | In Town
Objective: Musings | Chasing Down That Drink
Tags:
Gorthalon
Vyrien gave a short, affirmative nod to the Yuzzem's suggestion,
"I'll see you there, then," and followed the Alliance grunt with his pale stare as the furred individual hopped on their rental and sped off, kicking up grains of desert that were only blown into pursuit by a gust, and leaving him along in the sands, again. Parking his equally pale and clothed rear end back on the saddle of the speeder behind him, Vyr mused on the interaction that had just occurred; knowing full well that there was a time in his life, a time in the not-too-distant past that such an exchange could have gone quite differently, when the form getting more distant by the moment, on that rental speeder, might have been the enemy? That was food for thought.
All this from one day that changed everything, and invoked a recurring nightmare... if that is what it was. His mouth a thin line, the crusader threw a leg over the other side of the saddle, engaged the engine, and sped off to meet Gorthalon for that drink.
A drink at least a part of him needed.
Fifteen minutes later...
So they had used the same rental shop, he assumed, upon spying the furred Alliance man awaiting him close by when he pulled into the speeder yard to drop off his rental and hand in the key fob. This meant nothing, of course, a matter of coincidence, but it was a matter of course for him to notice things... including the handshake he had left unreciprocated, a gesture that still seemed
unusual to him, even long separated from the environs of his formative years. A touch that felt as if it was lacking something, he concluded, despite focusing on the flexing and release of his right hand for a scant few moments when leaving the yard, but his eyes lifted, his head followed, and anchored on his to-be drinking companion, in short measure.
"We meet again," he greeted, almost deadpan, as if the pointlessness of such an obvious statement amused him in some indiscernible way,
"let us go find 'trouble'," and he gestured for Gorthalon to follow, hardly stopping in his steady paces down the reasonably busy thoroughfare, heading for a hole-in-the-wall bar he'd seen while walking the streets in the crisp minutes of dawn and noticing
everything.
After a handful of minutes, he stood aside at the entrance, allowing Gorthalon to enter first, and followed the taller being in, whereupon they quickly found seats as it was much too early for the evening crowd, and went about ordering a couple pints of a good local brew that had come recommended by the staff.
"The seedier the establishment, the more trouble you're bound to find," he said in a low voice as if sharing a secret, after seating themselves at a small table,
"no matter the hour."
A vaguely derisive assessment, but entirely
him. He relaxed into the seat, draping one arm over the back of it, and the other across the edge of the table as if this was natural, but it was only a well practised impression in that moment - it was hard to truly relax. The
face he was moderately used to seeing across the table was attached to someone much smaller, and much, much less polite... and had removed themselves from his life a year or so prior. He still wasn't entirely certain whether he regretted that or not.
"You only need to know how to listen," perhaps he was speaking from experience... and at that, their pints were delivered, with Vyr wasting little time in accosting his by the handle, and lifting it,
"To alliances and trouble, then?"
Eina L'lerim-Vandiir
