When last call came she shook a few credits from a pouch in her skirt and placed them haphazardly on the bar counter.
"Just remedying a day-long hangover and a night of unwanted advances," she said with a revealing tilt of her glass. "What about you, here to play the sloven drunk?"
Despite his proximity the man's words echoed to her ears as if carried from a great distance. Their abject quality lingered on the periphery of her consciousness. Her head stirred--a slight cock to the side--and there it froze, in tandem with her last thought.
"Madder's," she addressed the man...
It was late Sunday evening at Phillies Bar and the customers had all come and gone. Only the night hawks remained. Peering inwards past the transparisteel glass one's eyes might find a familiar canvas among the canopy of Coruscant's skyward towers:
A lone bartender served the remaining three...
“Oh,” her cheeks flushed, playing bashful. “Tsk. Doll, who said anything about either?”
The dealer swallowed, hand fidgeting with his tie.
“But hypothetically speaking, could you?” she inquired.
The drunk looked to his right and left, stacking his chips defiantly. “Listen, lady. I don’t know...
Briskly, a hawkish man approached the table before the next hand was in play. Brushing past Ryiek he stopped by Vera, eyes oscillating between the players at the table. Craning his neck over her shoulder he whispered in her ear.
Vera’s jaw clenched involuntarily before her face returned to...
She balked, shying away reflexively.
“Hardly.”
The drunk called, keeping pace with their bets in silence. Precariously, the woman eyed him.
Cards flitted from the dealer's hand, forming a snapping cadence as the hand progressed. The rest of the table had folded, seemingly content watching...
Blowing smoke she sat silently, coiled and deadly, the men at the table hanging on her every word.
“Dealer? Some chips. Eighty thousand. Put it on my credit.” She spoke curtly, sporting undertones of superiority and disinterest. The dealer hesitated, faltering slightly before counting out her...
The flop came in the form of a three and two nines; the drunk stared at it with the same empty glare he’d worn all night. Lighting a cigarette he waited for the other players to place their bets. A few men limped in, betting their hands short; one swung for the fences, hoping to fold them out...
Shouting chased his retreat and greeted his arrival, dispelling the blindness of instinct. Priscilla stopped, giving his mind ample time to assess his surroundings before his momentum hitched at their adjoined hands and whipped him to the ground. A slapping sound met with his outstretched hand...
Tis'. One can't afford to give in to ADD.
Do let me know when you get around to some writing though. It would be good to get some threads going with the rest of the world.
The new arrival’s cocksure grin immediately put the other players on edge. Ryiek Lancer; the drunk only eyed him languidly from his periphery. Two hands and no play. The newcomer’s patience did not go unnoticed.
“Interesting?” the drunk’s eyebrow perched. “Side bet? Or…”
Ryiek shrugged...
---
In a back alley far from watchful eyes and inquisitive people sat a quaint little place for politicians and crooks. From the outside it appeared to be nothing more than a worn, red, backdoor. Inside everything changed. The music hit you first, beating a tight rhythm of steadily paced swing...
Priscilla bludgeoned Caed as she clutched his hand and ran past him. The weight of her body shattered his false sense of security, her panic swallowing him.
Run.
Left foot, right foot! His legs beat a rhythm into the ground—a primal sensation. It didn’t matter where he was going, only that he...
Caed’s elation at the prospect of a newfound friend was interrupted by the approach of a woman clad in dark lace and leather. Cued with her arrival, Caed felt Priscilla’s custodial grip move to shelter him. It was enmeshed with a palpable fear. Wrapping his arms tight around hers, Caed drew...
The gentle whistle of fleeting air across a twilit sky whispered in the boy’s ear. In the heavens the stars burned red with the fires below. The boy lie squirming, panting with frustration he twisted himself from beneath innocuous piles of fallen rubble.
Breathing heavy, he looked out from one...
Caed looked at Kaythous keenly as the mercenary made his exit. Getting up slowly, he followed the man out the door, stopping for a moment to get a feel for where he was going. Digging a hand inside his pocket, he procured a datapad, pretending to play with it while keeping an eye on Storic’s...
They weren't meant to be anything big like the Hutts, was considering a political agenda tie in, but it isn't actually important to the overall story. You can do whatever you want with them.