[AU] Milliways Bar

[fighting_mad]

The bar's kinda quiet, today.

It's a change from a certain establishment on a backwater planet, anyway; for a moment, as the door opens, there's something of a general roar. Glass shattering, shouting, wood cracking as people are thrown into tables and chairs are broken over heads -- then the door shuts.

Plourr can taste blood in her mouth and her lip is starting to swell up; she's grinning wildly, though, as she weaves through empty tables to the bar, a tall, improbably muscled woman in boots, fitted trousers, a vest, and a tunic with the sleeves rolled up, a heavy blaster strapped to her right thigh. A small bundle of ice appears before she can say a word; she takes it, with only a light kick to the bar, and takes a seat on a stool. She presses the towel full of ice to her left hand's knuckles, which are ugly and split and smeared liberally with blood.

Not all of the blood on her knuckles, and none of it on her forearms, belongs to Lieutenant Ilo. (The rest of her is blood-free; she is good enough, by now, to avoid the worst of the sprays.) This is likely the cause behind her good humor.

Comments

[theredstars.livejournal.com]

"Born and raised."

"Got about fifty goddamn Earths around here, seems like, but who's counting?"

She shrugs, a loose-jointed and amiable roll of the shoulders, with another swallow of vodka. "Suit yourself."

[fighting_mad]

"Not me," she says, dropping into the (sort of) offered chair with a (consciously) graceless thud. "They all sound the same to me. No blasters, no deep space travel, no fun."

[incorsecsdreams.livejournal.com]

A dark-eyed woman who's in pretty good shape, but who looks almost thin next to Plourr, walks over.

"Hey, Lieutenant," she smirks at the sight of Plourr's face, "Did you leave any of them alive?"

[Ah notifications, you are so fun.]

[theredstars.livejournal.com]

Lieutenant? Color Alex unsurprised. The other woman's bearing shouts military in every inch -- the kind of military that means front lines and pisshole bars, no tidy paper-pushing there -- and when you reach a certain rank, the brass gets extra-fussy about things like bar brawls. Lieutenants have a better shot at getting away with it, in Alex's experience.

So she just snorts again into her glass, and leaves that one to the (other) red-haired woman to answer.

[fighting_mad]

Plourr rolls her eyes. "No killing, no getting maimed. I promised Wedge. Mirax Terrik, this is -- I didn't catch your name."

[incorsecsdreams.livejournal.com]

Mirax snorts in amusement and doesn't, quite, roll her eyes at Plourr. Her attention shifts politely to the other woman, waiting for an introduction.

[theredstars.livejournal.com]

"Alexandra Goncharova." Alex lifts her glass in lazy salute at a point halfway between the two women.

Her uniform and her bearing both shout military, even if you don't know Red Fleet insignias to read the captain's pips. But right now they're also shouting off-duty, thankyouverymuch, and she leaves off the rank for the moment.

[fighting_mad]

"--Alexandra Goncharova," Plourr finishes the introduction, as if she hadn't had to ask for the other woman's name. "And I'm Plourr Ilo." This is to Alex, not to Mirax, who presumably knows her name by now. "And now we're all one big damn happy family."

[incorsecsdreams.livejournal.com]

Mirax snorts, "A bit violent family by the looks of it." Her grin widens, "With an innocent and peace-loving younger sister of course."

She means herself.

[theredstars.livejournal.com]

Happy family, huh.

Yeah, right.

"Charmed," Alex drawls, and she does, she thinks, like both of these women; at least insofar as it's possible to, after five minutes of acquaintance. Like hell is that going to stop her from letting the word roll out with lazy insouciance, though.

There's another seat for Mirax if she wants it. She'd probably do better not to wait for an explicit invitation, though.