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04 August 2006 @ 12:51 pm
more on that space opera thing  
Another short installment...continuance of yesterday's post.





Percy sipped his newly refilled drink -- what was this now, his third? Fourth? -- as a bald drunkard roared accusations to the general public. He had that little blonde by the arm, in a grip that Percy suspected was painful.

She was certainly a character, that little blonde. She'd just sat there in her blue leather coat, looking like a jewel that'd been accidentally dropped in a trash pile, trying to pretend that she was really a piece of trash. It was a hopeless case, even if she'd looked the part -- her manner was too friendly to fit in around here. He'd had to buy her a drink just to shut her the hell up.

The crowd went wild when Baldy McBalderson revealed the girl's tattoo, and Percy snorted. Mark of the Alchennioux, huh? An especially stupid idea to wander in here, then.

Percy leaned to his right, narrowly dodging an ashtray that instead flew over his left shoulder and destroyed several bottles of less-than-fine liquor. He drained his own drink in response, finally beginning to feel that happy buzz behind his eyes. Another few of these and he wouldn't be able to find his way home. Ayoka would kill him.

He ordered another.

They'd at least stopped throwing things now, settling back into their seats with ragged cheers as the two thugs dragged the blonde out back. She'd finally snapped out of it enough to put up a fight, but her struggling was doing little good against the two mountains who'd got ahold of her.

Picking up his latest round of liquid amnesia, Percy wandered casually after them, watching as they hauled her through the back door and into a narrow alley. She was screaming now, screaming and kicking and thrashing about like it might make a difference. He took a gulp of his alcohol, and leaned against the wall beside the alley door. No need to go outside -- it was stinking and damp out there, and Ayoka was going to be angry enough without his tracking city muck into the ship.

The blonde had switched tactics again. Probably wore herself out. Now she was pleading with them, begging to be let go, maybe crying if the tone of her voice was anything to go by. Pathetic, really. She should have known better than to come to a place like this, bearing that Mark. Nobles weren't welcome in this sort of establishment, let alone nobles of a rank to merit the Alchennioux. It was her own mistake, and she deserved what she got.

Her tears turned to sharp yelps of pain, and Percy considered the dirty ice cubes clinking in his now empty glass. Maybe one more, for the road.





AHHH, WHAT A BASTARD.
 
 
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