(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

[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.