A Not So Friendly Drink

[Fyston]

The less than crowded bar was perfect for what Celtar needed: some time to relax without all the hubbub and noise associated with a more popular establishment. The Knight had only recently arrived, his head pounding as a result of the hangover that had been plaguing him for some time. He drank water, though he remained drunk around the clock and any lapse brought on a horrid hangover that, if not corrected, led to symptoms similar to withdrawal.

He was two sips into a large glass of tihaar when he heard someone causing a disruption at the other end of the bar. Ignoring it, the Knight ordered another drink and received a glare from the bartender when he did so. "I doubt you can finish that much, pal, and I'm not wasting this stuff. It's rare outside of those Mando worlds." Celtar returned the barkeep's glare, adding a look to his face that signified his irritation as he withdrew a credit chit from his pocket. "That will cover it and more, don't question me again," said Celtar in a voice that was barely over that of a whisper. While he waited for his second drink to arrive, he heard further noise from the other end of the bar and held his ears closed, his head pounding in pain.

While a Jedi, Celtar certainly did not look the part. He was garbed as a smuggler and his lightsabers were hidden from view by his overcoat. Even if someone were to see them, he looked grisly enough to claim to have taken them from a dead Jedi or Sith and have most believe him. His hat sat gently over his head, shading his face from those too nosy to know how to act in a bar. Once again, the noise emanated in his head as another particularly loud outburst reached his ears. The Knight puffed once more on his cigar before removing it from his lips, taking one more sip of his drink, and clearing his throat. "Shut up, will you? Some of us want to drink in peace. Go to some other osik-hole and be loud."

@Phantom

 

[Phantom]

Cole looked around the bar, trying to locate the voice that had so rudely interrupted him beating the crap out of a mark that his alias, John Constantine, has been tracking for over a month. He walked over to the source of the insult, and leaned against the bar. "You the one who yelled at me to stop?

 

[Fyston]

Celtar sighed with relief when he was given a moment of respite as the fight ended. While he enjoyed a good fight, he preferred being in one and having one person pounding another's head into the bar caused more than enough noise given Celtar's pounding headache. The Knight took another sip of his drink and smiled slightly when his headache began to resolve itself. Given his high tolerance, it would take a few more drinks before he felt the slightest bit tipsy and would be a while before he was drunk enough to feel relief. Every time he blinked, Celtar saw flashes of his last large battle with the Sith and saw death and destruction everywhere.

His self-misery ended itself when the man causing the fight walked over and leaned against the bar a few feet from where Celtar sat. The Jedi slowly removed his hat before sitting it on the bar, covering his drink and silently signalling the bartender that he was not done with his drink. Celtar took one last drag from his cigar and extinguished it on the side of the bar, the rashallo-based cigar mostly finished. As he finished, Celtar looked his newfound friend up and down before glaring into the man's eyes. "Yeah," started the Knight as he stood, his outward stance appearing to be that of a drunken bargoer but he was ready to go at a moment's notice. The Knight silently tallied what he had learned about the man. Given his perpetuity for violence, he gathered that the man was a fighter, though the placement and technique of the man's strikes indicated at least some formal training. His sloppy but business attire was probably meant to show that he was carefree but that he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty and his smile-not-smile, examining eyes, and overall body language revealed that he was confident, perhaps to the tune of arrogance, and that he didn't quite care for Celtar Xyton or what he had to say. The feeling of the Force flowing from the man revealed that he was Force Sensitive, whether he knew it or not. Celtar didn't care to hide his aura, though did keep it neutral to give off the appearance of either being untrained or, at least, not a Jedi or Sith.

Putting his hands on his waist, closer to his concealed lightsabers and ready to either draw them, his less-than-concealed pistol, or even fist fight at a moment's notice. "Let me guess," began the Knight, his gravelly accent giving his voice a lower tone and making it difficult to hear over the background noise, "You're some type of self-employed loser who used to serve in the Republic military. You're confident you can beat me into next week just because you beat that man and you probably, or definitely, have a weapon or three hidden under that suit jacket of yours. You're wanting to teach me a lesson for shutting you up because a proud man like you never gets told what to do. Do I have it right or is there something I missed? Either way, let's get this over so I can go back to my drink and the barkeep can throw you outside when I'm done." While he spoke, the Knight slurred his words and talked with a nature that helped to sell the fact that he was just some drunk in some bar.