[ Before ]
Just finishing a recent mission, CT-312 had raised a brow when Eira casually suggested a night out. BARCA had given clarification
[A recreational social outing commonly involving alcohol, music, and non-mission interaction. Relaxation among companions.] The Scout repeated quietly to herself at the time.
“A. Night. Out.” Testing the unfamiliar phrase.
The last time the two of them had “gone out” together, it had technically been
her idea. Though… that particular “outing” had involved a Black Sun contract and vandalizing a temple. Surprisingly, no one had died during the job. Considering the usual nature of the work CT-312 found herself involved in and from what she had been told about Eira’s personality, that alone had counted as a success.
It had been some time since the Scout had been deployed alongside the apprentice. Their interactions during different assignments had been… unexpectedly agreeable. Eira had demonstrated capability and a certain chaotic enthusiasm that CT-312 had found strangely tolerable. The time spent had not been unpleasant.
“Sure.” Curiosity alone was reason enough. She quietly considered what Eira meant by a
proper night out in her standards. Besides… with how events had been unfolding recently, a temporary distraction might not be unwelcomed. Even if it was only briefly.
Coruscant— however, was another matter
entirely.
From CT-312’s experience, nothing good ever came out of Coruscant. The planet carried too many memories of operations or events that had spiraled into something far worse than expected. A breath through the helmet’s modulator was let out. The sound turned into a faint irritated grumble. Still… perhaps experiencing the city in the company of someone CT-312 atleast to a degree trusted, might put a very small dent in her longstanding dislike of the world.
A very small one.
—
[ Current ]
CT-312 had not bothered to change out of her gear. Arriving at the club wearing the same combat equipment that was worn on the finished mission. Camouflage plated
armour. The tan-camo scarf wrapped around as her helmet remained on. Heads turned. The reactions from the people around was immediate. CT-312 looked
completely out of place. Color lights pulsed across the dance floor and thunderous bass vibrated faintly through the building’s structure itself. Standing beside Eira, who had clearly dressed for the occasion, the Scout could have easily been mistaken for hired security or a personal bodyguard. A few patrons gave cautious glances as they passed. Clubs themselves already left a sour taste in CT-312’s memory. The few times she had been assigned to go to such places were an annoyance. Still.. She had agreed to this. And, so she’d humored Eira.
The deep bass
thudded through CT-312’s chest as they settled at the bar. Watching Eira flagged down the bartender.
Shots. A dozen shots and a couple of pints—
Her helmet turned slightly. The bartender began lining glasses across the counter in front of them. A dozen. Tilting her head a fraction. Twelve. CT-312 just blinked at the amount.
PING. Inside the helmet, BARCA chimed. Data scrolled briefly across the inside of the HUD, calculating projected estimated alcohol impairments based on body mass and consumption speed. The information was clearly obvious even without the data.
–and my friend!
Attention jerked towards Eira.
Friend. It was the first time anyone had referred to her that way. The casual admission and open use of the word itself caught CT-312 slightly off guard.
‘Friend.’ Repeating the word slowly in her mind, considering the times she’d spent with the Princess’s apprentice. Her head dipped in a small nod in acknowledgment.
“Friend.” another unfamiliar word that felt odd to say out loud. Something quiet stirred beneath the surface of CT-312’s usual controlled demeanor. Merely a faint unfamiliar warmth that settled at her chest and somewhere in the background of her thoughts.
BEEP. BEEP. BARCA attempted to issue a warning. Highly suggesting that continuing would not be advisable. CT-312 ignored it.
Ready for a wild night out? Because nothing is ever small with me.
Studying the line of drinks once more before looking back at Eira. Gloved hands reached up to the sides of the helmet, with a soft mechanical
hiss the seals disengaged. CT-312 lifted it above her head before setting the helmet on the bar top beside. The scarf and half-mask beneath remained in place, still concealing the lower portion of the Scout’s face.
“...I see that.” Eira mentioned that the shots were merely a warm up for dancing and socializing. That statement alone drew again a raise of the brow, it was
definitely not something she would do so freely.
“A lot of shots needed is an understatement.”
CT-312 picked up a glass between her gloved fingers, studying the amber liquid for a brief moment before tugging the half mask just enough to drink. The burn spread immediately down her throat and into her chest before settling in her stomach. It wasn’t unpleasant. Still far better than the questionable liquid she drank, that had burned and smelled like chemical solvent, to seal the deal during negotiations on
Nova Avalonia.
Eira was already on her third. CT-312 followed with two more in quick successions. Six remained.
“I don’t know about the mingling—” gloved hand reaching for another glass. Not bothering with pulling the half mask down to drink anymore. The scent of alcohol already began to cling to the fabric as she drank through it.
“—especially the dancing.” Another shot disappeared.
“I am not what you call, properly dressed, for the occasion.”
Across the club, the music surged louder as the crowd roared at something happening off to the side where another service bar was located. Eira made mention of a fight suddenly breaking out. CT-312 didn’t have to turn her head fully. She could hear the unmistakable sharp
crash of furniture breaking and shouting through the music. It didn’t take long to hear multiple glass shattering. Reaching for the final shot, for a brief moment CT-312’s thoughts drifted to another club on another world. Rodia. One of her earliest assignments as bodyguard for Princess Quinn Varanin.
Faces surfaced briefly in memory. Individuals who had once claimed friendship and support for the Princess. Those who had spoken with confidence about standing beside her just as many others had before them.
‘Liars.’ Where were they when it mattered? CT-312’s expression remained unchanged. Something fierce and unwelcoming surged, the world narrowed for a moment.
Where were they when—
CRACK. The glass shattered in her hand. Liquid and fragments spread across. CT-312 blinked once before slowly exhaling slowly.
“Ah...” She shook her hand free of the broken pieces and remaining liquid.
“My hand slipped.” This time waving down the bartender and placing a handful of credits onto the counter before requesting a replacement shot. CT-312 lifted the final glass in a small toast to Eira.
“Last three are yours.” Downing the drink.
“The next round is on me.”
Turning slightly, CT-312 leaned back against the bar with a pint in hand. The sounds of fighting were growing louder and closer. A mixed group of
Falleens and
Devaronians throwing fists at each other.
“It appears we will not be the most intoxicated individuals here tonight.” The brawl had begun migrating across the club floor, pulling more participants as it grew gradually toward them.
“How unfortunate.” Just as she raised the pint toward her mask, a massive
Houk stumbled across the floor. A scrambling
Falleen clinging to its back while the larger brute attempted to throw him off. Their momentum carried them toward her and Eira.
CT-312 lowered the glass slightly,
“Hear me out—” head tilting toward her
new friend. Her other hand reached back for the helmet.
“Does this count as mingling?” As the Houk reached them, CT-312’s grip tightened around the edges.
BAM. The reinforced piece of equipment collided with Houk's face. Sending its massive body crashing into the bar between Eira and herself. The Falleen lost his grip. CT-312 kicked him cleanly off the Houk’s back, sending him tumbling towards Eira.
“Found you a dance partner.” A low groan was heard as the Houk attempted to rise. The Scout calmly raised the helmet again and brought it down against its skull.
Thud. its massive body collapsed, unconsciously.
She glanced toward the bartender who was crouched behind the counter.
“Another round of shots and pints.” The bartender shook his head frantically. CT-312 crouched beside the fallen Houk, patting around. A moment later, finding what she was looking for, the Scout pulled out a thick roll of credits. Standing again, she finished the remainder of her drink and slid the money across the counter.
“Got them to even buy us drinks.” Her tone was laced with humor. Fresh glasses in a line appeared, CT-312 nudged one of the shots across the bar towards Eira.
What was it they say?
“Cheers.”
