Galaxy's Edge Space Bar

[Myitt]

"Mm," says Jorek, eyes on Ossanlin's face, not his tail. "That's true, I am an Imperial Yeerk, and you are an Andalite War Prince."

He tilts his head, considering.

"Perhaps I am mistaken. I could have sworn you were the War Prince Ossanlin-Rethin-Sephirel. If you are, then we have met, though you likely don't remember me."

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Salem feels it when Rathien sits down behind him. He very nearly says something snarky to Keshin specifically for Rathien's benefit, but he bites his tongue and chokes back a grin. A part of him feels an exhilarating little burst of pride, or something like it. He knows Rathien's aura... or whatever it is... well enough to know it's him without looking. Maybe he can learn to use this sense properly. He's still not sure if Mar really did anything to him, or if the being simply... showed him how to use something he already had, but he's had so little chance to practice it properly... to allow it to grow...

With the little boost to his confidence, he relaxes his mind, allowing the sense to go farther, deeper, to flow out from him. He allows himself to feel the buzzing, rippling, nearly electric current of reality, the vibrating, quivering tendrils of energy and darkness which flow within and throughout everything... but he sits bolt upright again when he feels another being's aura-thing. He glances with a frown at the man who moves towards the rearmost booth. His aura's been here since Salem entered, but so far Salem hasn't given it a second thought. There's something different about this one. And not different in the way the blond man's aura is different... this one crackles with energy and darkness, and, moreover, there's something... familiar flowing from him. Just a snippet, a whiff, like the sun struggling to peek through a rain-drenched sky. It's the sense of an energy that Salem knows... intimately, almost, or even instinctively. With a frown, Salem scrutinizes the man closely.

Before he can draw any conclusions, however, his breath catches in his throat. Ossanlin has just walked through the door. The young War-Prince looks very much like Salem remembers him. Proud. Strong. Grumpy. And judging by the brief stalk-eye glance Ossanlin throws Salem's way, there's no love lost there. Salem hasn't really admitted it to himself, but on his way back to this bar, Ossanlin had been the one he'd envisioned speaking with the most... and is perhaps the one being here whose help he needs above all others. That's going to be a fun chat.

With a sigh, he turns back to Keshin. He blinks-- what she's said takes a moment to register, then he laughs. "Of course," he says. "I'll go into full detail once we have everyone together. It's just... there's a lot, and I'd rather only have to go through it once. I know enough not to take my team into something like this blind."

He stands and places a hand on the wall between their booth and the one where Rathien sits. He looks to Keshin. "Thank you," he says, and there's a sincerity in his voice, a vulnerability he seldom, if ever, lets show. Turning to Rathien, he says , "Both of you. We'll do this right."


Al shrugs as he follows Jeffrey through the swinging doors saloon-style doors. "You know, lack of 'leverage' doesn't mean much if you have friends." He clasps his hands over his heart. "Like, thousands upon thousands of dancing fools. Or at least a couple of drinks and someone to bull**** with." He laughs. "Just depends where your ambitions are. I doubt you'll get much farther than that in this particular... uh, universe. I don't think Mr. Personality," he gestures towards the bartender, who is absently polishing a mug with a dirty towel, "would let things get out of hand." Al glances and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that Salem is apparently not bleeding out. And he's found Keshin! Al smiles and waves at Joanne, then sends a grin and a mini-salute Rathien's way.

When Jeffrey mentions trying to get someone killed, Al stares at him for a second, then rubs the bridge of his nose. "Ah-yep. That's definitely the kind of thing Ossanlin wouldn't like." Towards the Andalite, Al throws a warm, if brief, smile. "Not that I object to livening this place up," he says, glancing at the bar, crowded with patrons, "but I think I might have approached that particular goal a bit differently."

He turns to William as the man walks up and lets out a low whistle. "Looks good on you. You get used to the tightness. Just..." he reaches out and tugs quickly at William's shirt, straightening a section. "Just... try not to think about it. In some ways it's supposed to feel like wearing nothing at all. Trust me, in the future, this is the height of fashion." He laughs. "Or at least it's a fashion."

He waves the bartender over, then turns to the other two. "Bar's a bit crowded. You guys okay with the fray, or shall we get a table? And while we're at it, what're you both drinking?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin's eyes widen a bit as the controller calls him by name.  Of course, for an Imperial to recognize him wasn't so inconceivable...his multiple successful missions against the Imperials combined with his propaganda status on the Homeworld put a lot of Dracon crosshairs on his head.  What a coup it would be, the Imperials finally defeat the Andalites' "invincible Prince."  A nickname Ossanlin dislikes, but begrudgingly tolerates.  He knows full well just how "un-invincible" he really is.

His tail twitches again, though he continues to keep himself at bay.  This Imperial who boldly walked up to him...who apparently has no care or concern about Ossanlin's rank, loyalties, or tail...demands cool calm.  Physical responses would only lower his stake and likely have little to no effect.  Instead, he opts for ambiguity, neither confirming nor denying his identity.  <How do you know that name?>


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Rathien has begun idly flipping one of his knives through the air again as he listens to the conversation, booted feet up on the table in front of him.  He raises his eyebrows as Keshin agrees to go along with Salem's ridiculous plans.  That was somewhat unexpected...but then again, maybe not.  Most people felt some sort of loyalty to a person who's saved their life.  He glances at Al as the robot walks into the bar and returns his salute, nonchalantly raising two fingers in his direction.

The Ildari grins darkly to himself as Salem thanks both of them.  He continues idly flipping the knife as he speaks up, not bothering to look at the trader.  "See, you're funny...I don't remember agreeing to going along with this."

[Forlin]

As more and more people enter the bar--some of them clearly Controllers by the things they said--Forlin is getting more and more nervous and fidgety.  Food and coffee are forgotten in the wake of wanting to be safe from infestation.  The fact that there's an Andalite in here both puts him at a little more ease...but then again he doesn't know this person.  All of them...he's in a room full of strangers.

"Excuse me..." he tells the bartender and the redheaded girl.  "Just need to be...right back."  He rushes for the men's bathroom, declothing and demorphing once he is inside.

Now in his Andalite form, Forlin picks up his clothes and returns.  He feels that Andalite optimism, and it feels good to be able to look behind him without turning his head.  Even though he's going a bit mad from the cramped quarters.  He returns to his spot at the bar.  One stalk-eye is on the Andalite prince and the Controller that is...talking to him?  Another scanning the other occupants of the room.

But his main eyes are on the red-haired girl in the hoodie.  <I'm the blond kid, the one who ordered coffee...I was in morph but...sorry about not telling you that...>  He paws at the ground nervously.  <I'm Forlin-Langor-Chulain, by the way.  I suppose I shoulda introduced myself.>  He eye-smiled nervously.  <And I have no idea what is going on, in this place.  Umm...how did you find this place?>

[guitarhero01234]

While Myitt empties her gut, Guppy takes a temporary seat in front of the entrance to the Bar with his head rested in his palms. "You holdin' up okay?" he asks just loudly enough for Myitt to hear. "Last time I got this smashed, I ended up dry heaving all the next day. Stomach felt like . . . sorry, I'm really not helping." He takes a plain white pill after fumbling for it in his pants pocket and swallows it, cringing as it goes down his throat.

"Probably gonna cut myself off here," Gaf continues, more to himself and Chris than Myitt. "I think I can keep my lunch down right now, and I'd rather stay that way."


With a blank expression, Sorin watches Dalik isolate herself with her holoscreens. After staring for maybe too long, he turns back to his soda. "Fine by me," he mutters.

He sits for a few minutes in silence, only moving to take the occasional sip of his drink and size up the Bar's other patrons. Mostly a small assortment of humans - or at least, humanoids. And a pair of Andalites, of course. Better not stir that pot.

Finally, he rests his arm on the Bar and turns back to Dalik. "So, can I at least get a name or something? I'm not too big on sitting around staring at a wall forever."

[Terenia]

She glances at him, looking mildly irritated to be interrupted. "Dalik Two-Eight-Five-Five the Prime," she says primly. There's a brief pause. "And you?"

Pushing her holoscreens aside she gives him another once-over, scrutinizing his appearance. "If you don't want to stare at a wall, why are you sitting alone in shadows?"


William glances at the bar, then Al. "Uh, ale please," he says, still trying to take in the array of newcomers. "So, you act like you've been here before. Who here do you already know?"

[Shenmue654]

Keshin notices Rathien's presence at around the same time that Salem does, as the man tensed, or excited in some way, as soon as Rathien arrived. Keshin can't help but roll his eyes at the other bounty hunter. How could he be so...coquettish? Here he was, acting like a woman playing hard-to-get when he had tried to kill Salem only an hour ago. Desperately, crazily! Whatever had happened with them was far beyond him, and he was essentially dating his own host. There is an internal blush, and Keshin immediately shuts out his own thoughts from Joanne. That could wait. 

He couldn't deny the bounty hunter's incredible skill, however. Keshin's eyes move up and down in time to Rathien's tosses of the knife. He nods as Salem reassures him. What Salem said made total sense, of course. He'd want his entire team together before executing the plan. "Of course," says Keshin. "Other than us, depending on whether your old flame has any interest..." Keshin can't resist another smirk at the Ildari. "...who else do you have in mind? I'm hardly the only bounty hunter swimming in the star ocean." He pauses, and then gives Salem a nod. "If you need anyone, I could give you some suggestions, but you seem like you already have some idea of who you want."

Keshin nearly does a spit take when he sees Al waving at him with that horrible man who nearly tried to kill him. Keshin points at Jeffrey. "That's the guy. The guy that Myitt was in. The guy that, I think, tried to murder us. Or...Myitt...tried to murder us. It's hard to say."
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Jeffrey breathes in the air of the bar sharply, relaxing. "Aaahhh," he says to Al. "Nothing like the smell of unwashed balls and fiery drink to warm you right in the blood. And hell, I don't even drink all that much."

He snerks as soon as he hears Al's comment, putting his hand on his hip. "Oh? And what the heck would you have done? Oh right, I remember--- Literally dropped a giant disco ball on us while playing old tunes from the 21st century. At the time, messing with these Yeerks or whatever seemed like the only option. It's really interesting to me, what they can do though!" He puts his finger in his ear, mimicking a Yeerk entering. "Squeeze through that tiny hole and see everything there is to know about you! Control your every movement! Heh..."

Jeffrey snickers. "...maybe that's why the ones I got were so lousy at resisting an Esper's cons."

Jeffrey glances at the bar when Al mentions drinks and says, "Same thing as before. Crown and Coke on the rocks. Except maybe a Red Shocker too. Haven't had one of those things in a while. By the way Blackbeard, you look good. Really...good." He looks William up and down with obvious, almost laviscious appreciation.

[Myitt]

Jorek smiles at Ossanlin.

"I know that name, my dear Andalite, because I know you're a decorated war hero," he says calmly. "You and I met exactly once. I should say, I recognized you, and you wouldn't recognize me." He laughs pleasantly. "Not like this, in any case.  That's hardly fair." Jorek pauses, giving his human host a self-directed gesture.

He considers the Andalite curiously. "Where are my manners? My name is Jorek. Just...Jorek, for now. No need for numbers." The strange and energetic Controller titters, pressing a couple of fingers to his mouth. "I must say, it's an honor to meet you again in person. If...you truly are who I think you are."

Even though his attention is entirely on Ossanlin, some part of his brain picks up on the entrance of another Andalite, this one much younger, from the rear part of the building. He suppresses the urge to grit his teeth.


Myitt retches for a few minutes, finally and laboriously straightening up to lean against the outer facade of the bar.

"Ugh," she agrees with Guppy, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. "No more drinking and no more oatmeal." She cringes, trudging slowly back towards the bar entrance.

She sits heavily next to him and sighs, swallowing hard. Leans her head back against the bar's shell. And stares up at the sky.

"So," she finally croaks. She sniffles. "You wanna talk about building some goggles?"

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Salem lets out a genuine laugh when Rathien speaks. His instinct is to simply cackle and dance away from the Ildari without answering-- it's simply amazing how easy it is to fall back into their old... not pattern, exactly; it had been far too wild to ever be called that... but their old behaviors, right down to the little things like this.

"You always know just what to say to cheer me up," he says, smirking at Rathien and pointedly refusing to offer any comment on his actual statement.

Salem turns to Keshin and snaps "No!" It comes out quicker and harsher than he'd intended. He shakes his head. "Sorry. I mean... yes, I'll take suggestions. It's going to get a whole lot rougher than this little cakewalk," he says, flicking the floating image of the space station and setting it to spinning and tumbling in place over the table. "Er... probably. No way to know for sure just yet."

He turns towards the bar and pauses as he notes the new Andalite. "Huh," he mutters. So that explained the strangeness in the blond man's aura. An Andalite in morph. Probably one of Ossanlin's lieutenants.

He turns back to Keshin, "Anybody we bring in needs to be trustworthy. Verifiable by me. And I really don't like hunters these days," he says. "I doubt I'm going to be the only member of the team with a price on his head, and I can't be worrying about my own team stabbing me in the back." He sighs. "That said, if either of you has any suggestions, I'll definitely hear them out. Thaum knows we're going to need all the help we can get."

He turns and looks at the man to whom Keshin points, and narrows his eyes. He thinks he can feel something... off about the man, though he has no idea if he's sensing it or if it's just a vibe the man gives off or if it's something he's imagining altogether. The guy's already all buddy-buddy with Al, from the look of things. He narrows his eyes as he stares at Jeffrey. "I'll keep an eye on that one, then," he mutters without turning back to Keshin. "Last thing this dump needs is more chaos."

Al grins and mouths a string of completely incomprehensible gibberish in Salem's direction. Salem smiles and nods absently, then looks around the bar, frowning. "Where'd Myitt go?"


Al inhales deeply through his nose and leans on a clear section of bar. "Rrr, yeah," he says back to Jeffrey in his 'extremely masculine lumberjack at the end of a long work week' voice. "It's the smell of untold decades of crazies and drunks, of history and competitions and..." he sniffs again and screws up his face, then drops the voice. "And dinosaurs?" He frowns at the bartender. "Seriously? Or is my schnozz malfunctioning again?" When the bartender continues to stare at him, he says, "Dude, do you have a name? It'd be so much easier to talk to you if I knew your name." After another awkward few seconds, he swallows. "Um. Martini. Grey Goose. Shaken, not stirred, twist of WD-40. And I've got theirs as well," he says, nodding towards William, then Jeffrey.

He sighs and says to Jeffrey, "Honestly, they teach entire courses on having fun without bloodshed. Just like a supervillain, I assume..." He grins excitedly. "Aren't they though? The Yeerks are one of the most interesting species I've ever met, and that's saying something. I don't wanna brag, but I'm pretty well-traveled and world-wise." He mock-pretentiously polishes his fingernails on his jacket. "Sadly, since I don't identify as organic, I don't think I get to have that whole 'having my brain stolen' experience any time soon myself, so I must experience it vicariously through you."

He turns to William, "Well, that..." he gestures towards the door, "was Tara, and probably also Myitt. They're good people. I'd say they're a peach, but it'd confuse you and they'd probably punch me, so I won't say that. The blue one's Ossanlin. He's also good people, but if I had to pick a fruit, I'd have to say he's more... tangelo. He doesn't like me much, because I ran him over once. Uhhmm" he looks around. "That's Salem, my sidekick and copilot. He's an ****, but I'm slowly grooming him to be a fully functioning member of society." At that moment, he catches Salem's eye, and proudly mouths, "My new acquaintances are a ghost pirate and a supervillain!" Judging by Salem's absent nod, however, the man doesn't really get it. Hopeless.

"The pointy one's Rathien. He's definitely not good people, but I like him just fine anyway. Guy's a hell of a lot of fun, pun intended. That one's Joanne, and probably Keshin. We've got a bit of a history of saving each other's lives. It's good to see them back here. This," he says, accepting his martini from the bartender, "is Walter. Thank you Walter." At the bartender's frown, he says, "Not Walter, then. Is it Richard? Or... Brian? I'll guess it one of these days, Rumpelstiltskin!" he calls to the bartender's retreating back. He pauses expectantly, then makes an 'oh shucks' gesture with his hand. "Thought I had him," he mutters, and takes a sip of his martini.

"I think that's everyone I know," he says to William, then he grins widely and says in his 'excessively chipper camp counselor' voice, "Everyone else is just a friend I haven't made yet."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

Ossanlin narrows his eyes at the Imperial controller.  He can't possibly think of any time or place where he'd potentially met the man, although it was sometimes hard to separate between the memories from the timeline that was and the ones from the current flow.  <I wasn't aware that the Imperials bought into our propaganda as much as our own people.>  Ossanlin makes no effort to conceal the War Prince badge insignia on his belt though he still does not confirm Jorek's suspicions about his identity.  <I'll be sure to remember it...Jorek, was it?  I'd say it's pleasant to meet you, but we're beyond such pretentious platitudes, yes?  What do you want?>

He keeps his main eyes on the controller, but one of his stalks catches sight of another Andalite...coming from the back.  Not someone he recognized either.  Not many Andalites came here or even knew of this place.  Odd, indeed.



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Rathien raises an eyebrow, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth for a moment, still not looking at Salem.  Just like old times...  "That's me, your own personal fairy-****in'-godmother."  He suddenly flips the knife up in the air, arcing and sailing high.  If the trader didn't move, it would sink itself into the padded foam of the booth he's sitting in right between his legs...probably.  If Salem didn't catch it anyway...it wasn't like he'd actually thrown the knife with any type of speed or intent...just lobbed it really.  "Difference is I bite, and I know just where to sink my fangs."

He smiles sweetly...except it's not so sweet.  "How about Thienal?  I'm sure he'd just die to get near you."

[Myitt]

Jorek lifts a shoulder. "I don't want anything, really," he says simply. "Not from you. It isn't often I get the chance to ah, rub elbows as it were, with Andalite War Princes. And I do get the chance to fraternize with the in crowd. I take networking quite seriously, as a matter of fact."

He taps the bar counter. "Could I have the honor of buying you a drink? A grass smoothie?" He grins again, that disarmingly cheerful smile.

[guitarhero01234]

"Call me Sorin," the human says. "My full name . . . well, I guess that's not important. Which is to say, it's probably important to someone, but damned if I'm gonna let it slip." A wide grin spreads across his face as he sits back in his stool.

"I just figured everyone was busy with their own conversations," he says, quickly changing the topic. "But when you come over here and start a conversation, well, I expect for you to actually chat instead of burying yourself in a computer. No offense, of course."


"Oatmeal?" Guppy says incredulously with a blank stare in Myitt's general direction. "Better be careful with that stuff. Could mess you up bad." He laughs weakly. "Man, Chris that's the dumbest thing ever. Friggin' oatmeal."

"But goggles, huh? I'm guessing you're not talking about fashion?" He breathes a deep, thoughtful sigh. "Y'know, it's kinda funny. Everyone always told me before I was assigned a host, 'once you can see, it's like a whole new world.' I mean, don't get me wrong, Chris is the best friend I could ask for, but I kinda feel screwed over, I guess."

Guppy pauses for a second. When he speaks again, his words come out a little slower than usual. "I've heard the stars are beautiful. That's something I always wanted to see. And people back on Earth used to rave to Chris about Scarlett Johansson. Would like to see her too." He leans back and rests his head against the door. "What all would I have to do to get some of these goggles made?"

[Myitt]

"I dunno, we could look for parts around the shipyard, though it would take time and some serious elbow grease to get the right components. Some good luck, too," Myitt says with a sigh, looking out over the rusted, looming hulks of metal. And, of course, Al and Salem's ship.

"We could ask for help," she says slowly, running a thumb along the side of her mouth. "I'd probably better go rinse my mouth out anyway." She gives Guppy a hearty slap on the back. "C'mon, let's get you some eyes. It..." She pauses, suddenly overcome with unexpected...feelin gs. "It really is...remarkable. I'm no poet, I can't do it justice."

Her fingers brush his, ready to help him up.

"As for the oatmeal," she intones, clearing her throat. "Stay. The ****. Away."

[Forlin]

Forlin has a stalk-eye on the red-haired girl.  Was she just disinterested in talking to him?  Maybe she'd gotten annoyed that he'd left so abruptly, or didn't realise he was now the Andalite standing here.  Or maybe she didn't care to talk to Andalites.  He just hope that he hasn't offended her.

He feels so...alone in this place.  Despite there being humans and Andalites.  He wants to latch onto the most familiar thing...but what is familiar here?  The Andalite, or the humans?  He wants to fidget, but now that he is Andalite, he cannot drink coffee, eat food, or chew on his nails.  Instead, he finds a longer tuft of fur from his chest and fiddles with it.  Probably a wierd thing like picking acne in public.  Or is it?  He does not know.  Multiple species in here, it probably doesn't matter to anyone.

He catches sight of the other Andalite.  'Ossanlin', the Yeerk had called him.  The Yeerk who gave his name as Jorek.  He begins to walk tentatively over to them, a stalk-eye swivelling to the bartender.  He's already fed and watered as his Andalite self...is he going to be kicked out for not buying something?  It is still a chance to try something new, but he is not sure his body would be used to non-Earth grasses at this point.

<Hello,> he says, unable to hide his nervousness as he paws the floor with a hoof.  <I hope I'm not interrupting.  I am Forlin-Langor-Chulain.  I have been here for nine minutes,> he added consulting his inner clock.  <Earth minutes, that is.>  Perhaps they know something more about this place.  Or possibly him.  Perhaps this Ossanlin knows his father.  And he can learn from both of them...they are both alien to him, with the exception of the human Jorek resides in.  Is he a voluntary Controller, or a slave, Forlin wonders.  Is he from Earth?  Not that he should ask these things of the Yeerk...but it intrigues him just as much as the Andalite's presence does.

[Myitt]

Jorek's smile freezes, and he surveys the young Andalite with interest.

"Fascinating," he comments quietly. "Is it commonplace for Andalites to mingle here, in this place?"

Again he regards Forlin impassively, with none of the hunger or fear his brothers might reserve for an Andalite - let alone two, right here, in his presence!

"Forlin," says Jorek, extending a hand. "My name is Jorek. I am, of course, a Yeerk." That giddy smile on his boyish features. Really, his host wasn't much older than thirty. "This handshake is the human custom for introductions, if you don't know." He focuses, carefully takes Forlin's hand and shakes it firmly, the knife-like smile returning. "It's a rare pleasure to meet more than one Andalite in a single course of conversation, I can assure you. It's been simply years since I interacted with Andalites on a regular basis."

Even though he's speaking in Galard, the intonation is jovial, not the usual bland staccato of the trade language; and, it is littered with English terms, untranslatable things like 'human' and 'handshake'.