Who Alexa, Hanalee
What A rowdy evening in the cantina Shenanigan's could yield the beginning of a rebel alliance friendship.
(AKA, Alexa's and Hanalee's players celebrate May the Fourth with 30+ Star Wars references.)
When Spring, 2725
Where Shenanigan's Lounge, Fort Weyr
Soundtrack: Mos Eisley Cantina Band

 

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Fort Weyr - Shenanigan's Lounge
The natural walls of this cavern have been completely covered and replaced by straight and sometimes curving walls of brickwork. There's a method to the madness of covering stone with stone. It's as simple as the electric buzz in the room. New grade electric lights dot the fancy brick-worked walls, with wires cleverly hidden behind, allowing more focus to be centered on the rest of the room rather than the numerous strings of wire needed to operate the lighting. Each bulb roosts in a bronzed metal flowering fixture, giving the room a rich atmosphere. Still, the walls are not the only place which has stone on stone appeal. The floor has been run smooth, the surface now slate rock, creating an imperial cast.

Beyond the actual foundations of the lounge, the luxury continues. High backed wooden chairs with padded white seats have been stationed all around the room. Between the individual chairs are benches fashioned out of the same rich wood with pillows made to flatter the cushions. There are low lying coffee tables or end tables near the individual chairs, while there's larger dining room sized tables with chairs to match scattered as well, giving much variety to those who find themselves in the room. Decorative hangings and framed artwork has been neatly hung around the room, but to offset the meticulous method of the room, there are some pieces that give a sporty feeling to the room - such as a fishing rod or a snowshoe.

Of course, the final appeal of the room comes in the form of its purpose; athletic competition. There are several games of darts lining the walls, various decks of dragon poker cards available, a large velvet lined pool table centered to one side of the lounge, a mat area surrounded by ropes, and an area that keeps track of all the runner races around the world via radio signal, giving constant updates on the status of the runners.

Over the turns, the use of Shenanigan's as the in-Weyr watering hole has seen the bar expanded and expanded again. Now, the brick of the bar has been built into a rectangle broken at the narrow ends and surrounding a free-standing wall of brick and mirrors that holds all the supplies the on-duty bartender(s) could wish for. Stools hug the bar for those who are here for the drinks, but bar food can also be ordered there to be run by the bartender's assistant(s) from the nearby kitchens.


A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… Or maybe just Shenanigans on a regular Fort weeknight. Same thing, right? The bar is buzzing with activity, but at least it's the sane and legal sort. It has to be, seeing as it's physically attached to Fort Weyr. Would be hard to deal in under the table shooting matches arrangements given the joint is frequented by the Weyrleader. But tonight, at least, Th'ero does not appear to be present. Instead, it is Alexa that has come to claim a chair, a mug of something frothy and (not blue) dark sitting at her table, currently untouched but not abandoned. It is a book that has her attention, or at least tries to catch it. It's hard, however, to concentrate on the written word when one is frequently shooting death glares at the other patrons for being too loud. But really, what did she expect, bringing a book to a bar? It's not the fault of those who are enjoying the establishment. But still, there is a longsuffering sigh and, with a *thud* of finality, a slamming of the tome closed as the weyrwoman admits defeat. Woe.

At Fort, it would probably be challenging to find a more wretched legal hive of scum and villainy (they employ the likes of Maizin, after all); there's no telling what can happen in an establishment that encourages competition when alcohol is readily available to help tempers run unchecked. Hanalee, who doesn't typically frequent Shenanigan's, lingers near the doorway on entry to better take in the sights and sounds at large, nose wrinkling as someone who's just abandoned his fourth glass at the counter brushes past her on his way out. An excited whoop goes up from a small group playing cards at a set of tables pushed together; face flushed with victory, the winner of their most recent hand crows, "Never tell me the odds! Told you it'd be my game!" At length, the harper-turned-candidate manages to wind her way between tables and patrons to acquire a glass of water at the bar, gaze studying this party or that one before pausing upon catching sight of Alexa and the book-slam. Perhaps it's the prospect of finding company for a few minutes with a potentially kindred spirit that sends her in that direction, even if she makes sure to angle for the table next to the rider's and fold herself into the one chair remaining there that didn't get dragged two tables over to accommodate a larger group. "Not the most conducive environment for reading, is it?" she says casually once she's settled, expression sympathetic as if she's attempted the same at some previous point.

Alexa is not the droid woman Hana's looking for. Or maybe she is? The question is met with a squinty-look and a sigh before she admits, "No, it's not," with disgruntled agreement. The ale(?) is claimed, a sip taken (a face made) and returned to her table, before she's tossing scowls at very loud, scruffy-lookin' nerf herder (aka, beastcrafter) at the crowded table too near for comfort. "Sometimes I can tune it out," she admits, deciding the book is better used as an arm rest since it's not gonna be read at the moment. "But tonight seems especially… busy." Another squint and a scowl (which goes unheeded by the raucous crowd) and she turns back with a sigh to offer Hana a friendly enough, "Alexa. Weyrwoman to Raaneth, the fastest ship in the galaxy youngest gold at Fort." And then, (because this scene would not be complete without a Chewbacca to join them!) a throaty whiny-growl from beneath the table has her reaching down to haul up a dog (which is totally legit; Maizin gave it to her and everything) to put in her lap and introduce as, "And this is puppy." Because WHAT ARE NAMES???? Also. Yes. She brought a dog to the bar. Mostly because, "I can't leave him at home or he'll chew up my shoes and destroy the weyr." Makes sense, right?

The look of askance Hanalee tips over her shoulder toward that loud fly boy fellow and subsequent sidelong roll of her eyes suggest that she would also probably prefer the noise level reduced by a decibel or five. "Hanalee, harper journeyman, " the owner of that name replies automatically to her introduction, glass-in-hand halfway to her mouth before it just stops, blue eyes arrested by the appearance of Puppy. "How adorable, " she pronounces after another sip of water, clearly delighted to make the acquaintance of the fuzzball canine. Still, there's a considering look tipped toward the bar, then back toward the weyrwoman. Amusedly, "Do they know he's in here? How old is he?" Another shout goes up from the card-players across the room, not as joyous in timbre, and the raised voices continue some back-and-forth earning a careful eye from this shift's bartender. "Don't get cocky!" rises audibly over the general hubhub, which gives rise to two (at least half-drunk) men getting up to march over toward the matted area with the obvious intent of settling some kind of score. Deliberately, Hana rotates her glass with the hand that still sits loosely around it, brow puckering faintly. "My colleague wasn't kidding when he said this place can be a little rougher than the Gemstone." Does she have a bad feeling about this?

Alexa definitely senses a disturbance in the Force, green eyes glancing around the room with suspicious scrutiny. At least the puppy seems content to just stay in her lap, and not try to wiggle free. For now. "No," admits Alexa with a fleeting look toward the bar. "I asked, but they said no dogs allowed." So she just smuggled him in anyway. "Which seems ridiculous, really. All he'd drink is the water!" But maybe the hullabaloo of the bar is enough to hide the pup a bit longer and if not? She'll just stow him back beneath the table. It's fine. "No idea how old," she admits. "Couple months maybe? I rescued him from the death star Maizin. Can you believe someone gave him a puppy?" Does Hana know who Maizin is? If not, Alexa will happily educate her about the dark side of the force that is Izi. Another sip of ale (along with another wince. Seriously. Why does she drink this stuff?) and she's casting suspicious looks around the room and hunching over her table. "It's not usually so bad," she adds, ominously.

"You're sure he wouldn't go for, " and Hana's chin tilts toward the passing server who's carrying a little basket to a table some feet yet past them with something undoubtedly warm and appetizing. Breaded meat, perhaps. Surely, most canines would make a run for something that appealing in fewer than twelve parsecs ten seconds. The bartender's attention is probably still held by the men who intend to have a non-sober match in the ring over there, given that people are gathering to watch them attempt to face off. It's anyone's guess who will end up faceplanting into the mat first. "Rescued?" prompts the candidate curiously. "Was this - Maizin that inept of a puppy parent?" There's no connection (yet) for her between the name and the stuck-up, not-so-half-witted face; meanwhile, another casual, if wary look travels from one loud group to the next, and her lips purse slightly. "Some of them seem like they might benefit from going home." (And rethinking their lives.)

"He might," agrees the weyrwoman, casting dubious eyes at the delicious dinner passing them by. "But I keep a hand on him." Let's hope she doesn't lose it. "So far, he seems to like shoes best of all." And she's as concerned as she is baffled. Because she kinda needs her shoes. Alexa isn't so much ignoring that soon-to-be brawl as she is… selectively avoiding paying it too much attention. As for Darth Vader Maizin? Well. A scowl might say it all, but just in case? "You have no idea. He's the worst sort of rebel scum dirtbag you could come across. Seriously. Don't let the pretty face fool you, he's a dick. And I have no idea how he got hold of a puppy. I'm pretty sure he stole it." From who? Well. That is a question she has yet to answer. Possibly because she doesn't really want to return said puppy. Which is behaving remarkably well given his age and inherent desire to chew on all the things. At least all the… Chewy things (OK, I admit, that was a stretch but I just couldn't help myself). It is, in the end, the soon-to-be galactic battle between the forces of Good and Evil fight that has Alexa looking almost worried, finally casting a glance toward the brawlers and agreeing that, "This is not going to end well. Especially if one of them," nod to the compatriots looking on, "Decide to strike back."

Hanalee's eyebrows lift slightly, even as her expression turns into that of someone trying to put two-and-two together. Dirtbag with a pretty face that would be passable were its owner not a total scoundrel. She has met one of those recently. Casually, "Blue eyes, quite tall fellow who needs an attitude and a general hygiene adjustment? I ran into someone like that in the caverns with all the airs of being some layabout lord holder's son who's trying to escape his duties." Her tone might stay even, but the knuckles on her glass don't; in fact, they whiten momentarily before she relaxes her grip. "If that's him, your puppy is quite fortunate, indeed." Both ready-to-rumble brawlers have yet to land a punch on the other, but it's surely only a matter of time even if their aims and reflexes are dulled by drink. "No, " the other harper concurs of the brawlers, leaning back into her seat with a quick look toward the doorway as if judging how quickly she might be able to make an escape from the unfolding scene. So uncivilized, says the tightness to her jaw as she turns back to Alexa. And moments later, there's a swinging limb finally getting near enough to its target; Hanalee winces sympathetically despite not being a man. Whatever universe one's fighting in, that's got to hurt.

"Sounds about right." For Maizin. There's bit of look for the mention; a scrunched-up nose and squinty-eyes and general sour-lemon expression. Like even just the mention of the sith man himself is enough to leave a bad taste in her mouth. Clearly, Alexa is not a fan. But whatever else she might have said for Izi — and it would not have been good, rest assured — is kept at bay when the brawler meets his mark. Even Alexa winces before deciding, "That's it, I'm out." Time to blow this death star joint and make a hasty retreat. Tucking the book beneath one arm and hoisting the puppy into the other, she casts Hana a look that clearly says 'you might wanna run too' before rising from the chair. "Nice to meet you Hanalee. Good luck," and May the Force be with you! (because Alexa is definitely gone).

A soft, "Hmm, " is the only betrayal of Hanalee's satisfaction at having (very possibly) obtained a name to go with that face, but the goldrider's preparations to depart forestall any further questions that could have arisen in an environment more favorable for conversation. "Good call. I can't watch anymore." She's quick to follow the other blonde's example and also makes a beeline for the doorway in her wake. "Nice to meet you too, weyrwoman, " replies the candidate in polite farewell as they go their separate ways. Exeunt the two Jedi knights, guardians of peace and justice harpers.


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