The Bar at the End of the World

[Mission Koht]

From the moment Nomi stepped away to the moment she stepped back, Mission grew distinctly uncomfortable with the emotional climate. Empath she was, but that didn't mean she enjoyed dealing with feelings out in the open. Grabbing a few drinks with friends was supposed to be fun, and a nice way to unwind for a bit. She could make concessions for two of her dearest childhood friends not quite being acclimated to the usual routine of such an engagement, but things had elevated quickly and she was entirely unequipped to deal. She was used to hanging out with smugglers and Mandalorians, and burying her emotions just as deeply as any of them.

She dutifully pinched where Nomi suggested, hoping it was a sign of things returning to normalcy, but otherwise avoided looking awkward as much as possible, and avoided eye contact with either of the other two until the sudden emotional spike was past.

Food, that sounded good. She motioned quietly to the barkeep and then asked him for a party platter when he came by. Plenty of meats, cheeses, and other little creations to help soak up the alcohol that she was starting to grow concerned about in Julian's case. But she didn't really know what to say about that either.

"Oh... Jules. It's not a competition to see who can swim there the fastest. Believe me, I've seen men who can drown themselves in liquor and not bat an eye. It's not attractive. Enjoy your drinks, please. Taste them. At least the ones we buy you."

So saying, Mission sipped a little more of her namana. This time, however, she focused a little and made sure the natural toxin passed through her system without touching anything. She didn't like being poisoned, even if by such innocuous things as this. Twice had been more than enough...

[Nomi Jonan]

Nomi had strategically deferred any conversation to Mission for a minute or two. Her fingers finished twisting the glossy red sections of her friend’s hair with remarkable knack and speed until she tied off the stylized rope-like braid she’d worked part of Mission’s hair into, and worked the braid in as an accent to a simpler ponytail. Nomi felt quite pleased with the the effect, all in all.

“I’m not actually convinced I like liquor,” the copper-complexioned woman remarked in her most sensible tone, although her mood swiftly warmed up as she went along. “Namana is right out. The… mead? was fine. Whiskey—yes. That was like spicy; but less taste, more bite. More like that please. Also YES. Cheese! I REMEMBER cheese!… Here; this is done, Mission.”

She nudged Mission’s hand away from her head with a light squeeze, and finally risked a glance back to Julian with a wry shrug.

“We’re all going to be fine and that's that. I am totally okay with it if we need to go take turns pushing each other off a building or something though.”

[Julian Orspach]

"I have two livers Mission, I can drink twice what you can and process it as if I've only had what you've had. So in order for this to be fair I do have to indeed drink a great deal more than you guys, otherwise I won't even feel anything at all. Not to say that I am drinking to get drunk or to forget, but more just to take the edge off."

He shrugged at the two of them, they were braiding hair, how come his hair wasn't being braided? He had a braid once, but then he didn't. Maybe he had had a bit more than he was used to...which wasn't much considering he had not really had anything much in his life before.

He looked at Nomi again and gave her a wry smile, he was about to say something witty regarding her lack of taste for alcohol when a gaggle of assorted zeltrons walked in the door, dressed in extremely loud colors and were clearly having the time of their life. He prayed they did not notice them and come over, and just like that a couple of them did, a young man and woman, probably in the early twenties, but who could tell with Zeltrons. He looked at Nomi and Mission and rolled his eyes hard, the kind of hard eye roll where you think you might have detached your optic nerve. The make leaned into him and the female brushed his cheek, they had not yet said a word and he shot them the darkest lightsided glare that one could imagine.

"I'm sorry. Did I say either of you could touch me?!"

The two looked at him with a concerned look and a faint scent filled the air around them.

Julian's stare hardened even further.

"Go have your party and continue making our entire species look like a bunch of floozies and hedonistic narcissists, but leave my friends and I alone. We are most certainly NOT interested. We are Jedi and do not have time for your Zeltron games, now go, go be dirty elsewhere."

His emotions hur them, they just wanted to make everyone happy, and he called them dirty?? Both of them backed away and distanced themselves from this Jedi and his lack of fun, what kind of Zeltron was he anway?

Julian watched as they walked away and continued elsewhere in the bar with their party. He shook his head and sighed, Zeltrons. He didn't hate them, but he did not know that he liked his own kind all that much either. He immediately brought himself back to the present.

"Zeltrons. Am I right?"

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his pinkish face and the light was back in his purple eyes.

"As I was about to say before I was cut off....why isn't my hair braided?"