Log:Enthusiasm Surcharge

Enthusiasm Surcharge

OOC Date: March 16th, 2016
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: (not) Dash Rendar, Kasia Ciph, Hex

The short story: Dash Rendar gets his money back, thanks to a Twi'lek with reasonable hourly rates. Kasia fails to protect a Rodian from villains.

The long story:

"You're kiddin' me? Huh..." Dash Rendar says, leaning back into his seat at Sabacc table in Pakko's Place. Apparently, the little green man (Rodian) sitting across from him has played one hell of a hand, leaving Dash's meager offering of a play in the dust.

The aging smuggler sucks his teeth as the Rodian spits something harsh out in its native tongue and goes on to laugh wildly about it. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Chuckles. You beat Dash Rendar in cards. It's bound to happen every once in a while.

"Bah!" Dash exclaims, tossing some credits onto the table and standing up, his hands adjusting his gunbelt as he swaggers over to the bar. "Hey, keep! You know if T'ssolok is toxic to Rodians? I need to get my money back," he remarks with a grin, jerking his thumb at the cheering Rodian behind him. "One shot of whatever the house bottle is around here."

Hex is just the type of cretin to inhabit this dark, boozy hole, where the patrons distract themselves from existential misery by the attention required to avoid suspicious puddles of goo on the floor. He's at the bar, frowning, contemplative, but certain words and phrases have a direct line to his brain and Dash has just uttered one of them. Hex looks over, askance. "Tell me, promise me, that you wouldn't waste T'ssolok for the uninspired purpose of poisoning Rodians," he scolds. "I mean really, there's so many better ways to poison -- hey." Recognition filters in, and his lekku perk up. "You're Dash Rendar." It's the shoulder pads, they give it away. That, and he just said it a second ago.

"I can tell you it ain't exactly good for drinking, friendo," Dash offers to Hex with a big grin. He watches the recognition hit the Twi'lek's eyes and he nods, his grin still very much in place. A gloved hand is extended to him and he says, "The one and only. How ya doin, kid?"

"Buy a drink for an old war hero?" Dash asks, reaching over to grab his newly arrived shot and throw it back. His eyes close and his head jerks to the side as he swallows the beverage, a hand coming down to slap the bar. He breathes a quick breath, letting a 'Woo!' slip out. "Just...not another one of those."

"Not good for drinking! You are breaking my shriveled, raisin-like heart made of black ice into a thousand pieces," Hex protests. "T'ssolok is the nectar of the goddess," his tone is amused as he uses formal address, "Mr. Rendar." The handshake is returned and he introduces himself simply as, "Hex." One brow arches slightly, "I'll buy you a drink, but it doesn't come free, ka? I buy you a drink, you entertain me with stories of thrilling heroics. This is what I like in my war heroes." A grin, "The story doesn't have to be true." He waves at the droid bar tender, then has to wave again and say, "Hey!" before the thing bothers to notice him. "Whatever he wants," Hex indicates alcoholic generosity for Dash, "And, a t'ssolok."

"Just a beer. I'm getting too old for hard liquor. And a scoundrel's got to stay on his best behavior when he's got a fan with him," Dash remarks to the bartender.

"Call me Dash. Mr. Rendar was my father," he says with a with a click of his teeth and a finger-pistol pointed at Hex. He happily takes the newly-arrived bottle of beer and sips at it a little, swallowing the amber liquid happily before he says, "Alright. War stories, huh? Well, what do you want to know about?" He tilts his head and raises his brows to the Twi'lek before he slaps the bar and points a finger at the man, "How about the time that I almost stole the Princess' heart out of the clutches of that no-good Solo?"

Hex regards Dash a little more thoughtfully than is his usual wont, tips of his lekku curling contemplatively back and forth. "Any number of things," he answers what he wants to know about, "Some of which I might have to be a little more shitfaced and maudlin before I get into." He grins. "But let's start with the Princess, yes." The t'ssolok arrives and he takes a drink, then peers at it. "How can you not like this? I mean, granted, this is kind of shitty t'ssolok, but even shitty t'ssolok is still amazing. It's not about the first taste, it's about after... something, something, experience, memories... I could make so many metaphors with that. I could write poetry about this shit."

"Well, do you want to take a break to write some poetry about a crappy drink, or would you rather let me tell you a story that's going to take you on a thrillride through the most tumultuous time in our Galaxy's history?" Dash asks, eyebrows up-turning. "That's what I thought. Let me set the scene for you, alright? Endor had just been won. Luke had just defeated the Emperor and Vader was dead. This whole swelling of pride was sweeping through the Galaxy, y'know? Great time to be alive, you know?" He takes a sip of his beer and goes on, "Now, I didn't have any /real/ romantic feelings for the Princess, but I knew she deserved better than that scoundrel Solo. And who's better than that scoundrel Solo? Dash Rendar, pilot of the /actual/ fastest ship in the Galaxy."

"So, I decided to win her over with a test of skill," Dash says, tapping his blaster. "Picked no fewer than twenty bolts off of a table with this thing. Didn't even scorch the finish" . He waves a hand quickly to his side, "No good." He flexes his arms, "So, I tried impressing her with a feat of strength. I figure girls like a guy with muscle, right? I carried /fifteen/ Ewoks around for like twenty minutes. Still nothin'." Dash looks surprised, even to this day. "/But/ the Princess has a weakness." He raises his brows to the Twi'lek, giving him time for the sheer wonder of the story to set in.

"Wait - no - it's a tough call!" Hex ranks his shitty drink poetry right up there with stories from one of the galaxy's key players for the last 30 years. Obviously it's some great poetry, but, he relents. "Alright, alright," and lets Dash set the scene. They're at the bar in this divey dank hole; Hex has some sort of disgusting fermented fungal drink that he's swearing is made from the tears of angels, and Dash has a beer. Dash's shoulder pads are imposing but have yet to gain self awareness, and have no drink of their own. The Twi'lek smiles as he listens, folded arms resting along the surface of the bar, and then grins broadly at the pause after the fifteen Ewoks. "Well, don't leave me hanging, what was her weakness?"

"Dance, my Twi'lek friend. Dance is every woman's weakness. Good or bad. There's something about us fellahs trying our best, swinging our limbs around in a good natured, seductive excercise that they find endearing," Dash explains, before taking another sip of his beer and grinning. "So I shoved ol' Solo out of the way, took royalty in my arms, and the two of us danced under the Endor sky for what must have been two or three hours." He pauses for a few moments, as he walks through the steps of the dance; a little sway here, a little shimmy there. A fond smile takes up residence on the smuggler's face, but is soon trampled by the no-doubt heart-wrenching end of his story. A more somber tone is taken, "But then I got this real bad cramp in my leg, couldn't dance anymore, and the rest is history." This last bit is rushed and he waves a dismissive hand, picking his bottle back up to take a drink from it.

The secret to success surprises a laugh out of Hex, genuine and amused. "Well, shit. That's -- actually, I'm gonna go ahead and say that is completely true," he has to agree about the seductive power of dance. "I might not have thought so a few months ago, but there is verifiable wisdom in those words. It's a good thing, too, really saves a lot of hassle with ewoks and whatnot." He savors a sip of bad-quality t'ssolok, which smells like what you might experience if you licked the inside of a boot, and raises a brow."And now here we are, years later, with the galaxy starting to churn itself into torturous shapes again. Clearly, you should look Leia up, ask her to dance again."

"Y'know, kid, I might just do that," Dash says, tipping his bottle back, again. His other hand reaches down to loop a thumb through his gunbelt, and he looks over to the Twi'lek, "So...Hex, right? What do you do? Aside from drink with smugglers and listen to their nonsense?"

"Mostly drink and listen to nonsense," Hex confirms. "Sometimes the nonsense is me talking, sometimes it's other people. Usually me." He rolls his glass back and forth between his hands, "I'm a mercenary, of sorts. I wear a few different hats." You're a twi'lek, you liar, you don't wear any hats. "For a few different parties." He raises a brow, just a little. "The Republic seems to think your dance partner's a war hawk, someone who can't let go of the past, someone with an eye to disrupt an otherwise peaceful and prosperous galaxy. They don't have much appreciation for chaos."

Why is Kasia here, exactly? It's possible that even she doesn't know the answer to this, or at least not a good answer to it. The door opens and she steps in to the diviest of dive bars, possibly looking out of place in her nice-ish dress and carefully styled hair. She might even be wearing perfume. It's outrageous. After a brief glance around, she moves further into the bar, rather than right back out the door.

"Well, sometimes the Galaxy needs war hawks. Peace is great, don't get me wrong. But somebody's gotta be paying attention. Seriously paying attention. Not all of your enemies are gonna telegraph their moves or go out of their way to make themselves known. That's just how it works. And chaos always exists. There's no point in acting like it doesn't. Just gets you hurt," Dash says, shrugging a bit. A look to Kasia as she enters and the aged smuggler gives Hex and quick elbow jab to the side, saying, "Would you get a load of that."

Hex listens somewhat inscrutably when Dash gives his opinion of war hawks, but the expression becomes a wry smile as he goes on, and he looks down at the bar, using his glass to make condensation circles on its surface. "Well, Holo up Leia then. Bring her a bouquet of ewoks, tell her sorry the Senate's a bunch of pansy-asses. She still looks great, if you can trust the pictures on the holonet of her radiating profound disapproval at a bunch of self-interested politicians." Speaking of looking great, he hurries not to spill his drink as Dash elbows him when a lovely lady walks in. The sight of her prompts a crooked smile, and Hex beckons. "Kasia, hirani nonna, come here and meet Dash Rendar. Try not to swoon, the floor's a mess."

Kasia misses that elbowing entirely, but she doesn't miss the greeting from Hex, which gets him a warm smile in return. The invitation is accepted immediately, and she moves through the bar to Hex and Dash, coming to a stop beside the former. "I'll do my best to not swoon," she replies with a daring glance down at the floor. Only a glance, looking for too long might make her run right out of the place, and then her gaze lifts to regard Dash directly, giving the smuggler a bright smile.

"Easier said than done," Dash offers in response to Kasia, a grin turning up the corners of his mouth. A gloved hand is extended to her. "Dash Rendar," he says, repeating Hex's introduction. His eyes move up and down her and he leans back a bit, before gesturing over to the Twi'lek, "And /you/ hang out with this guy? Lucky guy."

"Sometimes," Hex agrees, knocking back the rest of his disreputable beverage. "This is a genuine hero," he instructs Kasia, eyeing her to be sure she's paying attention. "The proper sort of hero, not too shiny around the edges. We were just discussing chaos... and order." He grins. "What are you doing here? Not looking for me, I hope, I'll feel bad. You're going to get bile and regret all up in the hem of your skirt. Regret never washes out."

There is definitely no swooning, Kasia isn't so easily overcome as all that. She does continue to smile at Dash, though, taking hold of that offered hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dash Rendar. I'm Kasia Ciph." Her smile brightens into a grin as she glances over Hex, just to so that yes, she IS listening, and then turns her attention back to Dash. "I do," a puse follows, long enough for a little laugh. "And he is." Another laugh follows this time at Hex's remarks, rather than her own. "I did come looking for you, but you're probably right. This regret is never going to come out. I'll just have to burn the dress at the end of the day."

Dash Rendar lets the two of them have a little exchange, not taking the time to butt in. For now, least. No, he's far to concerned with what's happening over at the Sabacc table, the Rodian who beat him still going on about it with his friends. In fact, the alien /just/ got off the holo with his unimpressed grandmother.

'Hrmmm' comes a low vocalization from the man as he reaches up to brush at his stubble. "Tails, run interferance. I'm gonna get my money back." He looks over to the Twi'lek, "He probably cheated. Or whatever."

"Or whatever," Hex dryly echoes in agreement. "What sort do you want, Rodian interference, or everybody-else interference while you and nastier-shade-of-green-than-me over there have an intimate conversation? I'll do either. My skills are varied." He raises a brow at Kasia. "Just gonna warn you ahead of time, this can only end in tears. Probably mine."

Kasia's gaze follows Dash's for a moment, just long enough to get a glimpse and then shift her attention back to the pair she stands with. "I hear that a lot more than I probably should," she tells Hex, following that with a grin. Whatever plan they have cooking, apparently she's going to make no effort to try and stop them. "Let me know if you need any help."

"Just uhhhhh, spill a drink on him or something," Dash says, taking a moment to take another sip of his beer, before handing the bottle over to the Twi'lek. "If he throws a punch, I got it covered, alright? Who's gonna get in a fight with Dash Rendar?" He smirks and straightens out his jumpsuit.

"On your signal, kid," Dash says, leaning back against the bar.

"I'm totally not wasting a drink on that," Hex reports Dash to the society for prevention of wasting alcoholic beverages. "You want me to distract, I'll distract." He takes off his satchel and presses it into Kasia's hands, then hops off his barstool, and unbuttons his shirt. He's skinny and green. "Back to work!" he claps his hands, rubbing them together briefly, before waltzing over to the Rodian. "Hey," he greets, big smile. "You're green, I'm green, I'd like to see more, you know what I mean? 50 credits for an hour, 55 for enthusiasm, 20 for a quickie behind the bar?" The Rodian explodes into surprise, disbelief, and probably insulted rage because grandma back on Rodia would so not approve of this, and spouts off livid jibberish in his language. "Yeah, I uh, don't speak that," Hex replies. "But I don't need to. Shh, baby, no words."

The satchel is passed to her, and Kasia slings the strap over her shoulder, finding a seat to settle in so that she can watch this little show of theirs play out. It's hard not to laugh, it really is, but she manages to keep a straight face while observing Hex's abrupt fall into the dark world of prostitution. There might not be dinner, and she's not having a drink, but at least there IS a show.

Dash Rendar watches Hex work his magic for a few moments, a smile creeping to his lips. A look over at Kasia and he says, "Your boyfriend's good." Dash downs the rest of his beer and sets the bottle down. He glances at his immediate surroundings for a moment or two and begins to walk over to the table, hunching down next to the Rodian, saying, "I actually took a few courses in rodese back at the Imp Academy, so I'll translate for you, yeah?" He smiles and gives the alien a clap on the back, listening as he explains very loudly his situation. "Uh huh," Dash says, nodding along as he listens, "Got it." He looks over to Hex and says, "Alright, so here's how it is. He says that he recently just came into some coin, so he's very much interested, and wonders if 25 could somehow work towards a bar quicky, with an enthusiasm surcharge."

"No? What about thirty for an hour? Still no?" Hex tortures the Rodian a little longer, either to make it believable, or because he enjoys tormenting the dubiously innocent... or both. But then there's Dash, helpful Dash with his academy courses in Rodese. "Ohhhh," Hex beams. "Well, shit, thank goddess you're here, I was beginning to think he didn't like me. I like /you/," he informs the Rodian. "I will like you a whole lot for 25 credits and a real short duration." Poor Rodian, this is just all sorts of ruining the good mood he had from making credits off Dash. He explodes up out of his seat, jabbering and gesturing wildly at both the human and the Twi'lek, before making an attempt to get out of the bar at a pace somewhere between Affronted Retreat and Horrified Fleeing.

Kasia's foot bobs idly as she watches Hex work, biting the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. "He is something," she agrees with Dash, and then goes quiet again as the smuggler joins in on the fun. She seems perfectly happy to remain precisely where she is, guarding the sacred satchel and serving as witness to this wondrous event.

As the horrified Rodian jumps up out of his chair, Dash's quick hands make a play for the small purse of credits tied to the Rodian's belt. The pouch is quickly tucked away into a pocket on Dash's gunbelt. The smuggler looks over at Hex, saying, "You /really/ don't want to know what he just called you. But it rhymes with 'Twi'lek Whore'. Wait. Nope, that's what he said." He raises a brow and looks out the door as the Rodian flails wildly past a group of people entering.

Hex laughs, low and amused, lekku curling this way and that with the smug satisfaction of a job well done. "Oh, well," he muses to the insult, starting to re-button his shirt. "That's fair." Case closed, job done, he starts walking back toward the bar, when suddenly there is a tall, mangy looking Bothan dude in the way, with a lazy eye, a twitchy sort of tic, and some credits he is thrusting at Hex. He doesn't seem to have much Basic, but he's got enough to lick his lips and say, "Thirty. Thirty!" Twi'lek Whore looks like a deer in the headlights. Yeah, who's smart now, Hex?

Now that it's safe to laugh, Kasia laughs, watching the entertainment come to a close. Or so she thought. One john flees, the and another one appears. Oh Hex, you're popular today. Maybe it's sympathy that spurs her into action,that deer in the headlights look enough to make her slip from the stool at the bar, the satchel still dangling slung over her shoulder as strides over to Hex, a little extra wiggle with each step. "Oh no, no." She clucks her tongue. "This one is mine." She doesn't insert herself between the Bothan and Twi'lek, but she does slide an arm across Hex's shoulders. "Whaddya say," she cants her head toward Hex. "A hundred credits? That enough to get ya for a while? Or two hundred? Keep ya for a few hours."

Dash Rendar moves over and wraps an arm around Hex's shoulder, smacking Kasia's out of the way, and looking at the Bothan, "Sorry, Big Guy, but this hairless piece of tail is coming home with me." A look to Hex and he asks, "How about 300 and I let you stay the night on the Millenium Falcon?" He then looks out to the crowd, "That's right, folks! He's coming with me! Han Solo!" He flashes a wink to the Bothan and grabs Hex by the collar, pulling him along with him, "Run, run, run."

Hex's Bothan friend looks heartbroken when Kasia appears to steal her grody alien back. Where was she when he was propositioning the Rodian? Is she his pimp? Is this because of the lazy eye?! It's always because of the lazy eye! And there's another guy?! For a cheap 30 (well, 20-55) credit Twi'lek? Unreal. "Forty," the Bothan says sadly, but he knows he's outmatched. Hex, meanwhile, is obviously relieved to be saved from the consequences of his poor decision making skills. Kasia gets a kiss on the cheek, and he collects his satchel back. Dash gets an appreciative, "You're a god among men, Han Solo," and then Hex jams out of the bar, at a pace that is pretty solidly Horrified Bolting this time.