milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

baze malbus

(no subject)

Gabriel hadn't meant to stay the night here. He hadn't meant to get drunk either or even to drink at all. He half wishes he'd imagined the omnic last night that was acting unlike any omnic he knows because then his pounding head would be imagined too.

Instead he pulls his hoodie a little further down as he groans against the lights and sounds of the room. "Hey," he says softly to Bar, "little help?" A bottle of blue Gatorade and two ibuprofen appear. "Oh, you're the best." He thankfully pops the pills and cracks open the bottle, eager to get over this as soon as possible.

The doctors are going to kill him if they find out he's been drinking.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Having forgone his armor, Baze is seated at a nearby table, engraving designs into a small, octagonal barrel--the one meant to shoot the plasma bolt--that he forged himself for his lightbow. A sweating pitcher of ice water rests near his left elbow, along with two glasses, one of which is full.

"Hoi, Gabriel," Baze says, his voice soft, but still pitched to carry.

"May the Force of others be with you. Do you need a drink of water? You look like death warmed over."

"Kinda feel it," Gabriel replies, looking over blearily. He comes slowly over and slumps into an open chair.

"Just gonna sit here like a lump if that's cool." He sets his bottle on the table and lets his head loll back.

"That's fine," Baze says, etching a groove into the barrel.

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

"Emcee's party," Gabe responds without moving.

"Ohhh, right, there was alcohol there, wasn't there?" Baze says, grinning. He almost laughs, but out of sympathy for Gabe's aching head, he refrains.

"You have my profound sympathy. Chirrut, my friend, would have made you workout at three in the morning."

He lifts his head enough to open one eye at Baze in a glare.

"That's how you get shot, my friend," he says, tone mild enough that he's probably not serious.

Which isn't to say that he wouldn't pull the same thing if it was his men who were drunk instead.

Baze does laugh then, though it's quiet. He continues etching grooves into the aluminum.

"If you wanted to shoot Chirrut, you'd have to go through me, and that staff of his. It's a good thing you have this place to rest and recover, huh?"

Gabriel just grunts and lets his head loll back again.

Said to the ceiling: "You don't drink? Or do the dead not get drunk?"

"Oh, I drink, and can get drunk, too," Baze says, engraving a flourish into the soft metal.

"Chirrut thought I was becoming a lush, hence the three in the morning workouts."

"Lock the door?"

Unless this was an alcoholic thing, he muses. Then yeah, maybe justified.

"Well, we share a room, there's no doors between us," Baze says, shaking his head. He blows away metal shavings.

"He dumped ice on my bed."

Oh, they're a couple. Totally different levels of justification then.

Gabriel lifts his head and reaches for his blue Gatorade. "Cold," is all he says before he takes a drink.

They're actually not, but since Baze can't read minds, he can't correct the assumption.

"Very," Baze says, laughing softly.

"But his heart was in the right place. He only had my best interests in mind. I don't know if you'd like him. He's friendly, but uncompromising when he's right."

"Which means you were being a lush," Gabriel surmises, slouching in his chair again.

Baze gives him a side-eye.

"Yessss. I never said I wasn't, did I?" Baze says, etching a groove into the aluminum.

Gabe shrugs and lets his head roll back again. His headache is getting a little better, he thinks.

"Hey," he says to the ceiling again, shutting his eyes. "Remember you said you knew about omnics before I came in? Was it a person that told you? A human?"

Cos he met one last night and he would have loved to have a heads up about that.

"Yes," Baze says, blinking at him. The Guardian continues engraving designs into the small, octagonal barrel.

"Why?"

"Just wondering if you met the omnic that's coming here," he says mildly. "Was at the party last night."

"What?" Baze says, raising his brows.

"No, I haven't met any droids. Droids are creepy, I try to avoid them when I can. But there's an omnic here? Are you sure it wasn't just another robot, and was an actual omnic?"

Is this why he was drinking?

"SST Laboratories Siege Automaton, Bastion model," Gabriel rambles off. "Basically a mobile sentry turret." He raises his head enough to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Thing was fucking singing and dancing on stage."

Well. That just about breaks Baze's brain.

"Uhh," he says, intelligently.

"Well. Did it hurt anyone?"

"Nope."

It's actually really amazing to his mind. That something he's seen mow down hundreds is even capable of something as lighthearted as music.

He still has trouble understanding what he saw. An omnic, a Bastion, making music.

"Lucky us."

"Well, then, um," Baze says, resisting the urge to rub the back of his neck, as he'd have to wash his hands again.

"Then I guess we don't have to worry about it until it does start?"

Gabriel gives him a steady look. He remembers Baze is on Security.

"You need help putting it down, you let me know."

Then he tilts his head down and bobs it to one side. "Expect a lot of casualties, though."

"We can't preemptively do anything to it until it starts being violent," Baze says, returning to his engraving.

"But I appreciate the concern, and your expertise. You might want to leave X a note--she's the head of Security here, and she'll know what to do. I'm sure she'll tell you the same thing I have, though."