It was hot. Sand, sand bloody everywhere. His head swam, and he blinked against the light and heat haze that could be seen outside of the metal structure he found himself in. His wrists hurt, and it felt like a Gamorrean jizz band was playing in his brain.
What tha frak happened last night? mused Kordath Bleu, struggling to stand, only to stop and spew the contents of the previous evening across the sandy metal deck.
“Ah, kark me,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. Bloodshot eyes took in his surroundings, coming up with an assessment he didn’t like. In one hand he still clutched a bottle, and while the purple ribbon so precious to him was still on his left, both wrists ached in a familiar way. “Right, I do nae recall comin’...here, but someone tied us up last night. Kind of ‘em ta leave me my drink, I suppose. Hope it ain’t drugged,” he mused to himself, pulling the cork and taking a quick swig to clear the taste from his mouth.
“Kordath Bleu, it’s been a while,” came a voice from near where all the blasted light was coming from. He squinted against it, holding his free hand up to try and shield his eyes. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but the voice and curves suggested a woman.
“Do I know ya, luv? Also, where the hells am I, why’d I get brought her, and, uhh,” he looked around, perturbed. “Uh, where’s me pants?”
The woman stepped into the shadowed interior, her boots clicking against the floor. Or ship deck, realized Bleu, glancing over the uniform surface. The backlighting from outside was still making it impossible to work out who she was, but every scrap of what was going on around him could help him figure things out. Wasn’t his first abduction, by far. Usually, they didn’t take his pants though. A downed ship, then, which means…, he thought as he looked around the room again, spotting several half-buried hatches.
“Are we going to have to go over the whole ‘we’ve met’ thing before again, Bleu,” asked the woman in exasperation. “And my people didn’t take your pants. They found you like...that. I guess you must have made it difficult for them, otherwise, they’d have brought something for you to wear.”
Right. Woman. Taller than me, course, all o’ ‘em bloody are. Short hair, bit o’ tha curves, sounds like she’s in charge, he thought, squinting against the light. “Uh, sure, yeah, totally met before. This innit somethin’ we could handle over a holo, maybe set up a meetin’ for?”
“You’d have to accept my comms, first, Kordath,” came a reply that was icier than he had expected. He wasn’t sure why he deserved it. “This was the only way for us to have a conversation, now,” he heard the distinct sound of metal sliding against leather, ‘sit down so we can chat.”
That was tha sound o’ a gun gettin’ pulled, bet. Right, we’re on a world with sand, bright sun, and in a crashed ship. No way ta get a call out for pick up, and some crazy broad with a gun.
“Uh, what’d’ya wanna talk about?” his lips felt dry, so he took another drink from his bottle. He took a few steps to the left, towards one of the hatches, and saw her pistol come up. Bleu stopped in his tracks.
“I said sit.”
“And I asked what ya wanted, luv.”
“Don’t you ‘luv’ me you skeevy little sleemo. You think I wanted to come out here to do this? We could have done this somewhere with drinks and strippers, had a proper conversation, but you had to be stubborn. Is it some Arconan thing that makes you people such a pain in my backside?”
Bleu licked his lips, tasting the whiskey and made a show of rubbing at his eyes and yawning while he let the Force start to flow through him. He gathered energy, sending it down to his empty hand. With how dark it was in here, his usual tactic for getting rid of problems should work brilliantly. He saw her shoulders square up, stiffening.
“Don’t do anything stupid, I didn’t come here to shoot you.”
“Aye?” he replied, dropping any pretense and pointed his hand at her, palm out, to release the blinding flash of energy. Nothing happened. “Uh, well, that normally does’nae, uh…”
“Performance issues, Bleu?” she asked. He couldn’t make out her features with the backlight, but he was certain she had her lips quirked a smirk. He couldn’t sense her presence, now, or feel anything from the Force at all.
Oh. Kark.
“Uh, yeah, that usually doesn’t happen. How’s about this then,” he began, before taking another long pull from his bottle.
“Kordath…” came the woman’s voice, which he replied with by holding a hand up to delay her, stopping when his bottle was a third full. He belched, loudly, and saw her recoil somewhat. “Are you done?”
“Bout ta be,” he muttered, corking the bottle and spinning it lightly in his hand. He was feeling better, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through him. He stopped the spin and clutched the neck of the bottle, mentally gauging distances. Behind him was another mostly buried hatch, a space he thought he could fit through. Deciding he didn’t like where this was going, he hoped that whatever this crazy lady was doing to the Force would keep her from sensing his intentions.
He hurled his bottle towards her. His hopes were dashed when he saw her react almost before he’d finished his throw, but the die was cast. Her blaster rang out, the bolt hitting the bottle as he dived towards the hatch. A flash of light filled the space around him as the alcohol was lit aflame, singing his backside while he wriggled through half-buried door.
“Come back here you little scumbag!” came a shout.
