milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The bright lights of Coronet City spilled into Milliways as the door opened and Mission backed into the room, not quite noticing where she was, as she struggled and dragged an unconscious Gamorrean in with her. She let go of the Gamorrean as soon as his bulky body was through the door and she stopped to give his lumpy belly a good kick before walking around him to close the door.

As she turned around, back to face the unconscious porcine alien, that was when she noticed where she was.

"Oh, kriff!"

She sighed, hands on her hips, as she glanced around before she turned and opened the door then grabbed the Gamorrean by the foot.

"I hope this doesn't count as bringing business into the Bar," she mumbled as she started to drag the Gamorrean out the door again. "I mean, I wasn't expecting to walk into here or anything. Kriffing blips in time and space."

After some moments of much struggling, Mission had the Gamorrean out the door again and out onto the causeway. She had been hoping to do this somewhere private, but, as none of the passing persons took any interest in her or the Gamorrean, it was the lower slums of the City and these sorts of things happened all the time, she searched his bags and pockets until she found what she was looking for: a keycard.

She pocketed the keycard, smiling cheerfully at a Duro that glanced her way, and she turned, walking back into Milliways and heading straight for Bar to sit on one of the stools and order some food.

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"What was that about?"

Philippus' tone is not entirely friendly, no. Unfortunately, that wasn't the best first impression.

"Huh? What was what about?" asked Mission, glancing up from her food. "Oh, you mean the Gamorrean? Hey, he attacked me first."

Technically speaking, he had attacked her first. She may have provoked him though.

"I was wondering a bit more about the part where you were beating an unconscious person."

Yep. Bad first impression.

"Huh? You mean, that little kick? It wasn't like I was stabbing him with a vibrodagger and torturing him or anything. A little kick is not going to hurt anyone. Especially not a Gamorrean like him."

"You kicked him without wanting to hurt him."

Philippus' tone is not one that's seen the essential rightness of her claim, no.

"If I wanted to hurt him, I'd have done so. 'S why he was unconscious and not dead; stunned instead of stabbed. Well, that and he was easier to deal with, but I don't go around murdering and torturing people." She frowned. "Unless, I guess, they attacked me and I've to kill them in defense. That happened a lot while I was traveling with Revan. Sith everywhere kept trying to kill us. But even then I didn't go around torturing them. Unless you count trying to bite one of them as torture. Even then, they were the ones that tortured us."

"No, it doesn't sound as though biting would be torture," Philippus says wearily, "in self-defense. Hauling unconscious people about, kicking them, and hauling them back out is one of those things it's always going to be hard to adequately explain." She was across the room at the start of it, or this would have been brought up at the time.

"So what do you do?"

Besides, um, the obvious.

Mission sighed and pushed her food away.

"If I wanted to be scolded for the way I handle things, I'd have gone and found Bastila. And I do what most people in my galaxy try to do: make a living. What do you do? Aside from going around and criticizing people you've never met before and know nothing about."

While she's dragging the Gamorrean back out the door she's approached by a waifish girl in an oversized fur hat. "Need some help?" Just to be clear, Makita's offering to help kick the Gamorrean in the head a few more times, but she'll help drag it back out if that's what Mission wants.

Mission eyed the girl and the oversized fur hat. "Huh?" She looked down at the Gamorrean again. "Oh, I guess." And then to clarify, "Just to get him out the door, I mean. I don't think he's supposed to be here."

"Oh, okay." Makita tries to help. Unfortunately she's very small. She'd be much more effective at kicking, but she does what she can with the dragging.

A little help is better than no help at all. It was much easier to drag the Gamorrean out with someone helping. "Thanks," says Mission as soon as the Gamorrean was out the door and she obtains the keycard. "Those guys can be heavy." She holds out her hand. "Name's Mission."

Makita recently learned this hand-shaking thing so she extends her own hand. Her hands are small, but she's got a strong grip, "Makita. Do you drag fat unconscious guys around regularly?"

"What? No, this? This was a rare of occurrence," Mission grins, cocking her head to the side. "Do you help people drag fat unconscious guys around regularly?"

The question gets a head tilt of consideration. "Um... not really. Most of the Reds I've dragged around have been in pretty good shape. And I don't think any of them have been unconscious." Corpses, on the other hand, are something that Makita drags around with surprising regularity.

Mission tends to let corpses lie. But not, of course, without pocketing some loot from them first. Reds, however, is a reference she has never heard before and, brow furrowing, she asks about it, "What're Reds?"

"Members of the Red Fleet. They're from the U.R.R.S. I don't expect you've heard of them since no one else around here has."

"No, 'fraid not," says Mission, frowning somewhat. "Never heard of the U.R.R.S. either. What do they do? The Reds, I mean."

"Mostly start a war every couple of years, kill whoever they invade until they surrender, exploit the economy, and start over."

"Huh, sounds like the Czerka Corporation and the Sith," says Mission, making the slightest comparison to something from her own galaxy. "Mostly the Sith though with the whole starting a war every couple of years."

"You fighting them?" Because that's how Makita thinks you're supposed to deal with crazy warmongers.

Mission grins and nods. She could not think of a better way to deal with crazy warmonger than to fight them. "Yup!" she chirps before she scowls a little. "Well, fought. They're kind of gone now after we destroyed the Star Forge and Revan killed Malak. But, I guess they come back. At least according to someone from the future of my galaxy, they do."

"Good." Then Makita blinks, "The guy you killed comes back? At least back home they have the decency to stay dead when you shoot them enough."

"Oh no, not him! At least, I don't think it's him. Kriff, I hope not! But no," she continues, shaking her head. "They stay dead in my galaxy too. Even if some of them think they're gods and immortal and all that shavit, they're not. But there's lots of them, the Sith, spread out across the galaxy. I guess one of them decides to pick up where Malak left off and tries to take over the galaxy. Huh, maybe I should ask Kira about it some more. She's the one who told me about. Don't think she could, or should, tell me about the future though."

Mission pauses, taking a breath, and then glances at Makita.

"Are you still fighting the Reds?"

Makita nods, "Yeah. There're a lot of them. A lot more of them than us. We've been fighting them for a while, but no matter how many we kill they just send more."