The In-Laws
?Give me a shot of juma. And keep them coming,? Atton said taking his customary place at the bar. For a moment his eyes roamed the ?mostly? empty cantina - not counting a few shady characters that looked too shady to be real, in the various equally dark corners - before returning to his glass the barkeeper placed before him.
He downed it in one swig.
He thought managing his love life as a Jedi with a Jedi would be difficult - one of the reasons why he never had one (he didn?t want to be a Jedi for other reasons but that didn?t matter now) - but he never expected that a completely different matter would prove to be a proverbial wrench in the wonderful clockwork that were him and Serenity.
?Problems soldier?? The always obliging barkeeper asked refilling his glass - as any good barkeeper should.
?You could say that.? And the problem insisted on becoming personal no matter how he looked at it. ?My fiancée?s,? it was still strange for him to actually hear himself say it (he did ask her to marry him after all), ?sister decided to show up for the wedding.?
?That must have made your fiancée very happy??
Oh yeah, it made Serenity very happy alright. After the initial slapping around and screaming ?Where the hell were you for that past xx years!?? the two became nearly inseparable. Except when they weren?t.
And that?s when he came into play.
?She doesn?t ?approve? of me,? Atton grunted. Actually, the truth might be closer to the fact that she wanted him dead, decapitated and joined with the Force, which the scoundrel-turned-Jedi-but-had-remained-a-scoundrel took very seriously.
?Ah, the age-old problem of In-Laws I presume.?
Oh yes, Atton hated the in-laws. His in-laws in particular.
?Nothing wrong with that. In-laws are always healthy to hate. Plenty of people do it,? the barkeeper continued as if reading his mind - as any good barkeeper should.
?Well this one isn?t! For all I know she might just use it for her own twisted amusement,? Atton shot back with a mixture of boyish sullenness and genuine fear - after he emptied another glass that is.
?Now why would she do that?? The barkeeper asked once again refilling his drink.
?Do you know who her sister is? Do you? No, of course you don?t. Well let me tell you,? he leaned over, seeing but not seeing as was the effect of the heavy drinking, to the man serving him drinks. ?She?s the biggest schutta this side of the galaxy and by now, possibly the Unknown Regions as well, if the people there have any common sense,? he mumbled around the rim of his glass.
?Do tell,? the barkeeper watched the man empty one glass after another.
?She?s a Sith. And not just any sith. A Sith Lord. A Dark Lord of the Sith.? ?And my former boss whom I deserted in the war and now wants me dead - for more reasons then that,? he thought silently, still having some sense (instinct more like it) to keep that little tidbit of information under wraps.
?Tough luck there, soldier,? the barkeeper?s tone was neutral as always.
?I swear, she?s just waiting for Serenity to turn her back so she could plunge that lightsaber of hers through my head. Possibly, so her sister wouldn?t be able to identify my corpse.?
For someone who was two-thirds on the way to get drunk, Atton was being very articulate. Practice does make one perfect and one with the glass.
?Creative.?
?No, just plain crazy.?
?I meant you.?
?I?m just realistic. She?s the crazy one.?
?You?ve pointed that out already-?
?Do you know how long she waited to put her psychotic paws on me??
?That special, are you soldier??
?Hah, but I got away before she managed to put me one of her torture racks,? he laughed nearly spilling his drink.
?Actually, that was your paranoia speaking. I had absolutely no desire whatsoever to put you on a ?torture rack? as you say it.?
Now he did spill his drink. And cough. And choked. And did all those stupid things people do when they?re confronted with a surprise. An unpleasant one at that.
It came to his mind then, that he never really looked at the man serving him drinks all night. As with all things in his life - he really should have. He dared now, cleaning the fog form his mind a bit.
Sunken, pale silver eyes more suited for a corpse then a living human, on a grayish skin and dark hair lined with many white petrified strands.
The infamous Dark Lord of the Sith working as a barman, serving drinks to him of all people. And no Exile in sight. He would laugh except his throat was still sore from all the choking he did earlier.
Well, now he can at least say that he experienced the most bizarre of situations right before he died.
He dared, just a tiny bit, to look over the bar at the unconscious -or was it dead?- body of the original barkeeper.
?Another drink, Jaq??
?Why not?? Atton said holding out his glass. Through the pleasant haze and foggy eyes of a half-drunk man Atton saw Revan balancing the bottle with all the expertise of someone who was familiar with all the ?charms? it had to offer, and with the other switched on that wicked, wicked, wicked black lightsaber of hers.
?I don?t wanna be held responsible for anything that?s gonna happen next,? he gave his former employer a crooked grin and raised his glass in mock salute.
The End
Edited by Orthodoxia, 11 October 2007 - 08:10 AM.
