milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

There's an Atton inna booth, juggling and, as he always does, failing at it. For once, he doesn't have anything else he's doing at the same time, though he is occasionally checking a datapad tutorial.

At least, he thinks it's a tutorial. He keeps seeing subliminal messages in there. It's a bit disturbing, really.

Ignore the evil icon, he's in quite a good, nice, non-psychotic mood right now. I just felt like using it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"See, I could really freak you out if I wanted to," Atton grins. "But I don't. Lot of self-restraint, that takes."

"And you wouldn't, right?"

"'Course not," Atton grins, giving Gavin a sidelong look. "Wouldn't be fair. 'Cause there's absolutely no way you'd be able to shock me. Even if you tried."

[OOC: And I have to go. Slowtime?]

"I was going to marry a Bothan."

Gavin hesitates for a moment, glancing down into his cup. It's probably the most shocking bit of information he has to share.

"Okay. That's ... not all that shocking, really. A bit odd, but there you go." Atton grins. It's very much a 'I win' grin.

Gavin frowns. "Well, what would you consider shocking then?"

"Dunno. You really have to do shocking things, rather than say them," Atton says thoughtfully. "I mean, you could say you almost married a Bothan, and that's shocking enough, but wouldn't it be so much worse if you came, in full wedding clothes, and asked me to do the ceremony between you and a Bothan? See? That's a bit of an exaggerated example, though."

"Well, she's dead," Gavin snaps, more angrily than he intended. "Can't do that then."

"Oh," Atton shuffles uncomfortably where he's sitting and plays with a loose thread on his sleeve. Because what do you say to that? "That could be a bit of a problem." Probably not that.

Gavin nods. "Yeah, you think?"

Atton's not sure whether to apologise of not. So, in the end, he just makes a vague noise that may be 'sorry' or may be a word in some obscure language.

Gavin shrugs and picks up his drink again, taking a long gulp and staying silent.

He almost misses the tickling from a moment ago. At least then he wasn't moping over Asyr.

...well, almost.

Atton stays silent for a moment, before prodding Gavin in the side. He really does hate uncomfortable silences.

Gavin's hand immediately goes to his side and he stares at Atton. "You said no tickling!"

"Pfft. It isn't tickling. It's prodding," He says innocently. "Big difference."

He shakes his head, frowning again. "It feels the same."

Poor ticklish farmboy.

"Pfft. It doesn't. I would do a comparison, but you've already told me not to tickle you." He looks distinctly forlorn at this. Like a kicked puppy.

He meets the forlorn look with pleading Bantha cub eyes, nodding again. "Yes it does!"

Atton keeps up the forlorn look, if only to try and out-sad-look Gavin.
"Pfft."

"It is!"

...the whining's coming back.

Atton laughs, raising his hands.
"Alright, alright. If you say so."

"I do!"

Gavin nods in reassurance. "It's the same."

Atton raises an eyebrow, and snickers softly.
"Sure it is." He reaches across, trying to steal Gavin's lomin ale.

Gavin's eyes narrow and his hand darts out and grips the ale mug tightly. "Don't you have your own?"

"Well, yeah, but ..." Saying that he wants to steal something just doesn't sound right. So he just eyes Gavin's mug. And works on a plan. Not particularly cunning, as plans go, but functional. "It's empty. Isn't it?" It's full.