— A CERTAIN GLOW ( Kal/Oli | Ten Leagues Cantina on Nar Shaddaa | 3963 )
( content warning: alcohol mention, extremely mild violence )
By the time things escalated, Kal was already halfway out of his seat, face colored with second-hand offense– he may not have known the person behind the bar, but by his measure it was never okay to say things like that to a person that had done you no wrong.
He was brought up short, though, of course. This was the Ten Leagues, it had been foolish to assume that the bar tender wouldn’t handle things themself. Granted, if forced to guess, Kal wouldn’t have been able to come up with the… technique at play before him. Frozen, halfway between curiosity both genuine and morbid, he was still staring by the time the man had been released and run off.
Despite himself, Kal felt instantly more at ease in the establishment.
For most of his life, he’d been around violence and of the impression that the most dangerous people were always the safest for him to be around. With a toppled bar stool and the rest of the evidence of the scuffle still present, the bar suddenly seemed less pristine. The ex-Mando’ade’s posture relaxed.
“Chak,” He shot a friendly smile in the bar tender’s direction as they walked back over, “I was going to offer to take care of him for you, but I see I didn’t need to.” Kal sat back down and placed his helmet on the bar.
Despite the display and his own curiosity, there was no part of Kal convinced that asking about what just happened would be a good idea. It wasn’t any of his business, anyway. Best to just accept the scene and move on.
Up close again, he couldn’t help but notice the mesmerizing trace of gold in the bar tender’s skin now that he looked closer.
“I’m fine to wait, though,” In contrast to the nerves of moments ago, his manner was open and easy as he leaned his chin on his helmet, “Do you know when the owner will be in? I can pay for the seat, if you don’t want me just loitering.”
Oli had honestly expected him to run off or at the very least leave him alone, yet surprisingly, the boy had done neither. Again his eyes scanned over him as he talked, uttering a word Oli didn’t know nor cared to know. An eyebrow quirked as a slight smile tugged at the left corner of his mouth. “No. If I couldn’t take care of my own problems, I would’ve long been dissected by now.”
The ‘owner’ was brought up again, and Oli’s head tilted to the side slightly, like an animal whose interest had been piqued by a toy. Or a piece of food. There was something that tugged at his insides as he watched the boy, and instinctively, his nose scrunched up in disgusted; not at this human boy, but at himself. There was a softness he felt swirling around in his stomach, the kind of feeling one would get upon witnessing a kitten yawn and fall asleep in your hands. The kind of feeling that Oli had absolutely never experienced before in his life, and honestly could do without for the remainder of his existence.
With an exasperated sigh, he poured another drink — a vibrant blue, swirling in the glass without swirling, not unlike his skin did — in the same glass he’d drank from previously, but instead of throwing it back himself, Oli pushed it towards the boy. “Fine,” he grunted, grabbing another glass to pour himself the same drink, “I’ll bite. Who are you, what do you want, and how prepared are you to sell your soul?”
