milliways_bar | (no subject)

Whump!

"...Ow."

A confused pilot looks back up at the hole in the ceiling he just fell through. "Okay, I know this place can make a door anywhere, anytime, but... why in my X-Wing before a mission?" Kell stands up, dusts himself off, and waks over to the bar. "Eh, vape it. Lomin-ale, please?" A green bottle materializes, and Kell takes a seat and kicks back, looking for anyone he might know--or someone he doesn't who looks interesting.

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Of course, Kell's not the only Wraith in the Bar. Ton's sitting over in a far corner, laughing whie watching something on his datapad.

It looks suspiciously like an old holodrama starring his former wingmate.

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And because the mun must be ultimately predictable, there's a Rogue Jedi Hero Thing sitting in a booth.

Or maybe he's lying down.

Okay, so he's napping.

Jedi get tired, too... although the empty plate of what appears to have been some random bird Bar gave him when he asked for food might have something to do with it. It seems Corran is learning the effects of tryptophan. Anyone care to see if it's had any other effects on him?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"And?"

"There might have been a fight."

Pause.

"Maybe."

" 'Might have been'?"

"Well, it'd depend on your definition of fight, wouldn't it? I mean, if you mean something where both combatants came away bruised and bloody, that's not quite the end result. If Security has to get involved, then this doesn't count either." A shrug.

"Then, please." He sits baack in his seat and calmly spreads his hands. "Enlighten me as to what exactly took palce."

Corran shrugs somewhat uneasily. "Well, he came up from behind me, exchanged a number of snide remarks regarding my squadmates with me, and a couple punches and kicks were thrown. Iella walked in, aimed a blaster at him and hauled me off him." HE shrugs again. "'S about the long and the short of it, Cap."

"Colonel," he reminds mildly, but the fact that it was said at all is a rebuke. "I'm disappointed to hear that." Blue eyes are serious, trained on his pilot -- his friend. "I would have expected better than that from you."

He exhales sharply, then meets Tycho's gaze squarely with one of his own. "I know. I let you, Wedge, Iella, and the rest of the squad down. But I can guarantee that it won't happen again. I was... I'd still been harboring shock and anger from her sudden appearance. And Thyne... well, he made things less smooth yet."

Hal's words from that night six weeks ago echo through Corran's mind. 'You let it get personal. It was no longer professional with you. You can not let it get personal.'

After a moment, he nods slowly. "But I've got it back under control now. Honestly, Tych."

Tycho holds his gaze a moment longer, mouth tight, then nods. "Alright." And it isn't, he's not condoning what was done and to say that he isn't happy about it would be the understatement of the age, but there's nothing to be gained by disciplining Corran now. Especially since it's stanging hard to say what kind of jurisdiction Tycho has at Milliways.

When Tycho says 'alright,' he means he believes him.

He nods again. "Thanks, Colonel."

A slow grin sneaks across his face. "On another note... that 'squadron business' you were working on. D'you figure out who had the records?"

Tycho shakes his head. "No. I thought it was Wes or Hobbie, but apparently not." He sits forward again, and Tycho still isn't exactly overjoyed with Corran, but the two pilots do what pilots do best: talk the night away.