Public The Galactic Refuge

[Gary The Barkeep]

This weekend marks the opening of The Galactic Refuge.

Gary's rolled in, set up shop, and decided it's time to see what the galaxy's been getting itself into.

Doors are open. Lights are low. The taps are full.

Whether you're running from debts, deals, ghosts, or just a long hyperspace jump — there's a stool waiting.

Drinks will be flowing. Stories will be traded.
No contracts. No weapons. No trouble.

Just a bar at the edge of everything.

Welcome to the Refuge.

 

[Gary The Barkeep]

Gary settles into his usual spot behind the bar, polishing a glass that doesn't really need it, eyes lifted to the flickering HoloNet display overhead.

Repulsor engines scream through tinny speakers as the local pod race tears across salt flats and canyon spines. Gary leans forward slightly, elbows on the counter, tracking each racer with practiced calm. Every near-miss gets a quiet inhale. Every clean pass earns a soft, approving hum.

He sets the glass down, taps the counter once.

"Come on, kid… take the inside line," he murmurs to no one in particular.

Around him, the Refuge breathes for the first time—chairs scraping, boots on durasteel, the low murmur of fresh conversations finding their rhythm. A couple of patrons glance up at the race. Someone cheers. Someone groans as a pod clips a pylon and spirals out in a shower of sparks.

Gary doesn't raise his voice.
He just reaches under the bar, lines up a few fresh drinks, and slides them out to waiting hands—never taking his eyes off the screen.
Opening night.
First race on the HoloNet.
Galaxy still spinning.

Gary smiles faintly and keeps watching.

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri slipped in quietly, as if the Refuge might startle if she entered too loudly.

The door hissed shut behind her, and she paused just inside, taking it in the way she always did with new places. Not judging. Just observing. Low lights, the soft clink of glasses, the layered hum of voices settling into something comfortable instead of sharp. It felt… intentionally calm. Like a space that had decided not to ask too many questions.

Her eyes drifted to the HoloNet display almost by accident, catching the blur of engines and color, the roar of a crowd half a galaxy away bleeding through tinny speakers. She didn't cheer or groan like some of the others. She just watched for a moment, head tilted slightly, noticing how Gary never looked away as he worked.

Eventuall,y she made her way to the bar, choosing a seat that didn't feel like it was in anyone's way. She folded her hands together on the counter, posture careful but not tense.

"Hi," she said softly, once there was a natural pause, as if she were afraid of interrupting the rhythm of the place. "This is… new, right?"

Her gaze flicked up toward the race again, then back to Gary, a faint, tentative smile forming.

"It feels like somewhere people come when they need to breathe," she added, not quite a question, more an observation. "That's nice."

She waited then, patient, content to let the bar keep breathing around her.

Gary The Barkeep

 

[Gary The Barkeep]

Gary lifts one finger gently without turning his head from the HoloNet.

"Shhh—race is on," he murmurs, already leaning closer to the screen. "Jax is about to take first…"

He scoots a half-step down the bar so he's got a cleaner angle on the holo, eyes narrowing as the pods scream through a canyon bend. His free hand keeps working on instinct—wiping the counter, lining up a fresh glass—while his attention stays locked on the race.

"Inside line, kid… inside—yes, yes—"

There's a soft thunk as he sets the glass down, then a quiet, satisfied hum when Jax surges ahead.

"Ha. There it is," Gary says, pleased but restrained. "That's good piloting."

Only then does he glance over at Meri, the intensity easing from his face into something warmer.

"Yeah," he answers her softly, voice low so it doesn't compete with the broadcast. "Brand new. Figured Chaos could use a place that doesn't demand anything from you."

He gives her a small, welcoming nod.

"And you're not wrong. People come here to breathe. That's kind of the point."

Gary reaches for a clean glass and sets it in front of her.

"Welcome to the Refuge," he adds gently. "First drink's on the house. You tell me what helps you exhale."

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri glanced back up at the holo at the name, her brow knitting just a little as the pod tore ahead on the inside line.

"Jax…?" she echoed quietly, then hesitated, clearly unsure if she should even ask. After a beat, she added, softer, "Jax Thio?"

The question wasn't nosy so much as curious, the way she approached most things. She looked back at Gary when he set the glass down, the welcome landing a little deeper than she expected. Her shoulders eased, just a fraction.

"Thank you," she said, meaning more than just the drink.

She considered his question seriously, eyes flicking to the rows of bottles and then away again, as if aware of her own limits.

"Um. Something warm would be nice," Meri said. "But…virgin. Please." The request came with a small, apologetic smile that suggested this wasn't her first time having to clarify that. "I'm fifteen."

She rested her hands lightly on the counter, fingers relaxed.

"Anything sweet is good," she added after a moment. "Something that feels…steady."

Jax Thio Gary The Barkeep

 

[Gary The Barkeep]

Gary finally tears his eyes off the holo long enough to really look at her—and that soft, grandfatherly smile settles in right away.

"Oh," he says gently, waving one hand in a small, dismissive arc. "You're just a young one."

He follows her glance back to the race and gives a quiet chuckle.

"No, little lady. Not Jax Thio. Jax Rences," Gary corrects, tapping the bar once for emphasis before nodding toward the screen. "He's the best pod racer this side of Nar Shaddaa. Clean lines, steady throttle, doesn't panic in the turns. That's rare."

He reaches for a kettle, already moving on instinct.

"Warm and sweet, virgin—got it," he says, setting a mug on the counter. "Steady is something we specialize in."

As the liquid starts to steam, Gary peers past the bar toward the back of the Refuge, craning his neck just a little.

"Anyways…" he mutters fondly, "…maybe I can find Ellie around here somewhere."

He raises his voice just enough to carry.

"Ell? You hiding again?"

Then back to Meri, lowering his tone conspiratorially.

"She always knows what the young kids like. Says she's hip or something like that." He snorts softly at himself. "I don't know what that means, but she insists."

Gary slides the warm mug toward Meri once it's ready, setting it down carefully in front of her.

"There you go," he says kindly. "Sweet, steady, and zero bad decisions in a cup."

He gives her an easy nod.

"And don't worry. You're safe here. Race or no race."

 

[Gillem]

GILLEM

Gillem looked up and down the street as the rolled paper on his lips curled with sweet smoke. A smooth inhale followed by an exhale breathed out from his lips and lungs. His eyes settled on the sign outside of a bar.

The Refuge

He plucked the cigarette from his lips and flicked it to the side onto the street, crushing it down with his boot.

Then he walked inside, a sign greeting him with Leave Weapons at the Door

His mechanical eye traced over faces in the bar labeling names and possible bounties he would not collect for now. Now was the time to relax.

His gaze flicked to the pod race on the screen and then at the sign by the door once again. He looked down at his belt, decorated with bullet casings and his Morellian Ranger’s star, then the two revolvers that clung to his belt. By the sign he noticed several bins that contained various weapons.

He didn’t like being unarmed, but this was not his space, and not his rules.

He let out a deep exhale as he clicked off the belt buckle and set his guns into one of the bins. His gaze stopped at a young girl sitting at the bar.

<.....analyzing……>
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<Match Found>
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Name: Merindai Tiravel
Age: 15
Title: N/A
Status: Living
Bounty: 0.00​

His eye then moved to the barkeep.

Name: Gary
Age: ???
Title: Barkeep
Status: Living
Bounty: 0.00​

He slowly walked up to the bar as they conversed, sitting in a stool a couple chairs down. He set his hat on the bar right by him and tapped his mechanical hand on the bar.

“Evenin’”

Meri Vale | Gary The Barkeep​

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri curled her fingers more firmly around the mug as the warmth soaked into her palms, the steam fogging her vision just a little. Whatever Gary had made smelled comforting in a way that felt intentional, like it had been crafted for exactly this moment. She took a careful sip, eyes softening immediately.

"Oh," she said quietly, almost relieved. "That is steady." A small smile followed, shy but real. "Thank you."

At the sound of the door and the movement nearby, her attention drifted just enough to notice the newcomer settling a few stools down. The way he disarmed before sitting didn't go unnoticed, nor did the weight he carried even without the guns. Meri didn't stare. She never did. But she did offer a polite glance and a nod, the kind that acknowledged presence without demanding anything from it.

"Evening," she echoed softly, voice gentle and unobtrusive.

She turned back toward the bar, lifting the mug again, then hesitated and glanced up at Gary and the holo in tandem.

"He really is good," she added, nodding faintly toward the race. "The way he doesn't rush the turns. It feels…thoughtful."

Another small sip. She exhaled, shoulders easing.

"I like it here," Meri said after a moment, not loudly, not to anyone in particular. "It's quiet in the right way."

Gillem Gary The Barkeep

 

[Gary The Barkeep]

Gary clocks the door opening even before the chime finishes—old habit. He glances up just long enough to register the newcomer disarming at the bins, gives a small approving nod, then turns his head toward the back hallway.

He cups one hand to his mouth and calls out in his gravel-soft barkeep voice:
"Hey, Elli— we're gettin' a pop at the door. More people comin' in!"

The words echo gently through the Refuge, not sharp—just informative, like calling weather.
He turns back to the bar, already reaching for another clean glass.

"Good on him," Gary murmurs, half to himself as he watches Gillem take a seat. "Rules matter."
At Meri's comment about the race, Gary smiles without looking away from the holo.

"That's exactly it," he says warmly. "He thinks before he flies. Pods reward patience."

He slides a coaster under her mug with quiet care.
"And I'm glad you like it here," Gary adds, voice low and sincere. "Quiet in the right way is what we aim for."

His eyes flick briefly to Gillem, then back to Meri.

"Anyone who walks in, leaves their weapons, and sits down instead of starting trouble?" Gary shrugs lightly. "That's already a good evening in my book."

From the back, the faint sounds of kitchen movement start up—Ell answering the call.
Gary keeps working, the bar breathing steadily around him as the race roars on overhead.

 

[Meri Vale]

Meri nodded along as he spoke, small motions, attentive in the way of someone who listened more than she talked. She drew her mug a little closer, palms wrapped around the warmth as if anchoring herself there.

"I like places with rules that make sense," she said softly. "Not loud ones. Just…clear ones." Her eyes flicked briefly toward the door where Gillem had come in, then back to the holo as the racers screamed past another turn. "It feels safer when people agree on how to be in a space together."

At the mention of patience, her mouth curved into a faint smile.

"That's what I was thinking," Meri added. "He doesn't rush. It's like he's listening to where the pod wants to go instead of forcing it." She paused, then admitted, a little shy, "I think I'd be terrible at racing. I'd overthink every turn."

She glanced back at Gary then, earnest and unguarded.

"Thank you," she said quietly, meaning more than just the drink. "For making a place like this. It's… easy to breathe here."

Her gaze drifted once more around the Refuge, taking in the low lights, the hum of conversation, the way no one seemed in a hurry to be anywhere else.

"And I think you're right," Meri finished. "Anyone who chooses to sit down instead of starting trouble probably has a story worth letting unfold."

Gary The Barkeep Gillem