(open) gettin' tipsy

[sfoils]

CHARACTERS ▶ The crew of the Durga + Luke Skywalker + Others
LOCATION ▶ Some seedy bar with Irkallan booze
SUMMARY ▶ Rogue Squadron tradition: buying drinks after a successful mission
WARNINGS ▶ PG-13 (Alcohol)
NOTES ▶ Stragglers allowed, but gotta buy their own booze

Luke's arrival reminded Wedge of a tradition he couldn't pass up: buying booze after a successful mission.

Post-mission, he hadn't had much reason to celebrate. He was ashamed of that, really. The Durga's crew might not be the Rogues, but they were still his crew. Duty was duty, and in the name of camaraderie, it was Wedge's duty to foster friendship among this rag-tag group of recruits, pro tem or not.

The bar is seedy and out of the way, frequented by mechanics and soldiers and the sort of people who would like the decor. As a matter of fact, the bar was cobbled together from bits and pieces of a downed hovercraft. Wedge is sure there's bloodstains on the metal beneath his feet, but whoever those poor soldiers were, he's sure they wouldn't object to their grave turning into a place where people celebrated life.

So, to life. And third-rate Irkallan whiskey.

"I'm doing quite a few favors at the shipyards for this party." He raises his bottle, probably whiskey. "So make sure you all put a dent in the alcohol supply." And downs half of it in an instant.

Comments

[last_ofthe_jedi]

Though he isn't necessarily all that eager to be around a lot of drunk people, Luke doesn't want to be alone right now either, and the idea of a good, old-fashioned Rogue-style round of drinks is just the kind of comfort he needs.

He's rather quiet and he glances around the place curiously and perhaps a bit apprehensively. Luke is aware of how obvious it is that he's only recently been unplugged and he can't help but feel a bit self-conscious. There's hardly any meat on his bones and he's already on the short side so he looks like barely half a person, all wrapped up in warm clothes to keep from shivering. The large plug at the base of his skull is easily visible as his hair has only just started to grow in.

While he waits for the bartender to grab him a cup from the oddly-shaped and colored assortment, he mutters to Wedge, "You know I always appreciate the lengths you go to but I need to go easy."

In the Matrix Luke was anything but a lightweight but here he really has no idea how his body will handle any amount of alcohol and getting completely wrecked is not where he wants to be tonight.

[sfoils]

Wedge isn't used to an apprehensive commander, but given the circumstances, Wedge can't fault him. This is meant to be a happy occasion, something meant to bring them all together, but that doesn't mean Wedge is oblivious or, worse, purposely ignoring Luke.

On the contrary, to anyone who actually knows him—which is, in this case, only Luke—there's an astuteness to Wedge's mannerisms tonight. He's not the type to coddle, but he is sitting right next to Luke, shielding him with his (for now) more toned body.

"Don't worry, I can drink for both of us," he jokes easily, downing the rest of the bottle. "I'm only on my first one, boss. You know it'll take more than this to knock me out."

[last_ofthe_jedi]

As the bartender sets down his cup, Luke reaches for a bottle and fills it only partway. Best start with that for now.

He raises his eyebrows and gives a single shake of his head at Wedge. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of. Just don't expect me to drag you back to your place later." Luke's not one to be a party pooper but he knows Wedge's drinking habits rather well and he just can't play damage control like he usually does.

"Are you a regular here?" Luke takes a sip of this supposedly third-rate whiskey. He's rather curious to know the various details of just how Wedge has managed to get along here because he might use a few of them for himself. Finding a good local bar is important.

[sfoils]

"I'm a big boy, I can stumble drunkenly into my room all on my own." Done showing off, Wedge takes the next sips more slowly. Sadly, it's not Whyren's Reserve, the galaxy's best whiskey, so this swill takes like water straight off a ship deck. Which makes Wedge want to down it over taking his time. "Don't worry, Luke, I don't intend to get that drunk."

"I sure am." That Wedge found a bar, of all things, therapeutic, says a lot. But not in the manner most would think: it's the socialization he cares more than destroying his liver. But it appears that he's a Corellian in his Matrix as well as outside it. His legendary alcohol tolerance is the same as always: legendary. "See those bar stools over there? I welded those. Then had to solder them because our patrons kept breaking them off."

[last_ofthe_jedi]

"I'm glad you've been making friends," Luke says with a small chuckle, titling his head to eye the soldered stools.

Even though he's been well taken care of by others while he works on getting into a self-sufficient situation, Luke's learned that currency here is often trades of goods and services. He nods to the stools. "What did they pay you with?"

He can probably guess the answer but that's why he's smirking at Wedge.

[antiochattitude]

Antioch had several traditions of its own. Discipline, a fairly spartan lifestyle, dedication to work... and also booze. Mine milestones and ship launches were worth celebrating, after all.

So luckily for everyone, Maria had a tolerance to fall back on. Though in no hurry to slam back shots, she still held steady in her seat despite the bottle in front of her being only a quarter full. The only thing stopping her from getting all shamelessly gregarious on people was that said people hadn't wandered too close. Yet.

[servomotor]

Tony doesn't merely wander close, he plunks down on a seat by her. Promptly reaches over to pick up her bottle, trying to check the label. By now, he knows a little about alcohol in Zion and the surrounding cities. He spends his labor on it a little more often than he should, though not often enough to be A Problem like it was before. "Nice. Cheers," he says, starting to pour out each of them a glass from two of the cluster available, even though he didn't ask.

Obviously the party is for sharing. "I'm not a hundred percent sure what a 'first mate' does, but I'm pretty sure you did an adequate job." He raises a glass. It's more of a compliment than 'twelve percent,' if that makes her feel better.

[antiochattitude]

What was she going to do, protest? The alcohol wasn't on her metaphorical dime. She took the compliment, too, despite her own personal and massive misgivings about her performance.

"Definitely not what I expected." She lifted her glass to him in turn, then tossed back a swallow. Not the whole thing. She knew herself too well to tempt fate like that. "Really interesting. Really amazing. Agh, I wish we could have fixed up... everything, though!"

[servomotor]

"Uhhh." Tony is annoying on purpose sometimes by being too literal with people, but other times-- such as now-- he is genuinely mystified. "Fix two military-grade hoverships that a couple dozen Sentinels and an EMP went through like the Bubonic Plague did Europe?" he asks. He motions with his cup, then drinks half of it too.

"I don't care how Native you are, but you couldn'tve pulled that off in three days."

[antiochattitude]

"Well we'll never know now, will we?" The alcohol added a little extra annoyance in she hadn't meant to let slip. She cared very much about hovercrafts, okay? "There's a certain built-in amount of hardening to let the pulses actually be useful without crippling the ship even in its run-silent mode, so there might have been something salvageable if we could've done the checks... but no, in and out faster than the EMP itself was. It's like leaving a comrade's body on the field. Hurts," she concluded melodramatically.

/wedges in here hahaha get it

[sfoils]

Wedge listened intently to the conversation, despite appearing to only care about the drink around his hand. He's still isn't drunk enough to let emotion slip into his default expression (impassive) but he is drunk enough to be chattier than usual. "A comrade whose life we can easily replace if you give the shipyards enough metal and wire."

Maybe it's because the hovercrafts are not X-wings that he can't afford them the same amount of respect just yet. Even so, the hero worship surrounding what's, all said and done, replaceable machines, bothers Wedge. "Always bet on your crew over the ship, Maria. No one's going to remember fondly the captain who sacrificed lives for an oversized freighter."

[antiochattitude]

Maria lifted her glass to make a point, noticed the faint wobble in her hand, set that back down, then lifted her finger instead.

"Not questioning the decision. Sometimes you even leave a body behind because you can't sacrifice the living just to honor the dead, right? But that doesn't mean I have to like the necessity. They were good ships. They deserved better."

She didn't know if anyone could understand. Not like she did, growing up in the shipyards and watching them come to life, like a proud parent. Sad.. it was sad. "Cut down in their prime."

[servomotor]

Tony is weird (yes, acknowledgedly, weird) about doing things like 'prioritize live people over equipment' in a sincere and explicit way, so he merely sucks on his drink while he watches Wedge and Maria talk about it. Privately, he agrees with Wedge, of course. He did just blow a dozen of his own suits within the past-- fifteen months or something like that. Time being immaterial.

"The Defense Grid might go back for them," he remarks, finally. "So much of Zion is built on scrap, we all know the tradition is there. And I'm pretty sure they wouldn't want Irkalla to get their hands on that hardware. So." He waves a hand. "Maybe there's hope for your electric sheep yet. You could go bother them about it. Bureaucrats love that." He lifts his eyebrows. He might look like he's being annoying but this is actually his technically-helpful-face.

[antiochattitude]

"They're more likely to repurpose the parts instead of rebuilding. Less a resurrection, more an organ donation. Not a bad way to make use of a lost life... still a tragedy."

She swirled the liquid in her glass, just an idle fidget, before taking another measured sip.

"Another innocent heart crushed by the horrors of battle," she said, a wry and self-mocking smile on her lips. At least she knew she was strange, as other people reckoned these things.

[roboticist]

There's not enough variety for Saphir's taste, at least in terms of mixers, but there's plenty of vodka and that keeps him, if not happy, then at least occupied. He's still pretty chafed about being left out of the search and rescue but is never one to pass up free alcohol even if he is still relatively new, so he's getting drunk alarmingly quickly.

This isn't going to go horribly wrong.

[knowdeathknowglory]

Jay, seeing Saphir sitting alone, saunters on over, a drink in hand. He managed to talk the increasingly incredulous barman into making him something that resembles a proper cocktail and he's so proud of his accomplishment, that he's just got to show it off to someone. Something tells him Saphir would be most appreciative.

He sits down beside Saphir and puts a light hand on his shoulder.

"Darling!" Jay chirps, all bright, slightly manic smiles. "How are you finding the place?"

[roboticist]

Saphir gives Jay a sour look and shrugs the hand off his shoulder. "I am still mad at you. How dare you take that wretch's side!" It was one thing to be denied what he wanted by a supposed authority figure and another thing entirely to be embarrassed by somebody he thought would understand him.

[knowdeathknowglory]

"What?" Jay says, completely taken aback. He hasn't got the faintest idea what Saphir is talking about - he's long since forgotten the incident, having filed it away under "meaningless bickering". "Taken whose side, darling? In what?" He cocks his head to one side, frowning at Saphir. Disappointment wells in his stomach and he tries to fight it off - but oh, he'd been hoping he'd made a positive impression on Saphir.