A Touch of Class

[Atton Kira]

Atton spotted the stabbing glare that Arriana cast in his direction, and responded with a playful grin.

His attention quickly turned back to the Twi'leki waitress, who was hoverring ready to deliver the next round of drinks. The pilots had requested something cool, if her conveyance of their order was correct, and so Atton had taken them at their word, preparing an octet of volatile Ice Blasters. Due to the nature of the drink, his mixing efforts had been far less flamboyant this time, but with good reason, as he demonstrated on the spare, eighth beverage.

"Place it on the table carefully," he instructed, careful to make his tone purely informative and not at all condescending; "And then flick the rim of each glass." He did so, and suddenly from nowhere a cloud of white appeared and spread throughout the glass, as supercooled water froze before their very eyes. The Twi'lek's eyes widened in silent wonder, and Atton's grin manifested all over again. "Thanks, darlin'," he offered warmly, with a gentle moment of contact of his hand against her forearm arm, and between their respective eyes.

Satisfied that he had provided the waitress with a moment's reprieve from the hardships and torments of serving such a loathsome group of patrons, he wandered back down the length of the bar towards Arriana, drink in hand. "Pretty cool, eh?" he commented, tipping the glass towards her in a quick gesture of something vaguely resembling respect.

True respect of course being impossible at that precise moment, given the exceedingly ridiculous appearence of Arriana in his hat.

[Arriana Rezner]

Arriana said something else in her native tongue, and it evidently wasn't a compliment. Snatching the hat from her head, Arriana tossed it at Atton's chest as she slipped from her barstool. “Show the others how to make them,” she said, with an agitated gesture to the rest of the bar staff, who had watched the whole interchange with glassy-eyed interest. She moved to walk away, but caught herself at the last moment. “ - and make sure you don't poison anyone.”

[Atton Kira]

Several hours later...

"- and that," he finished, adding the final touches, "Is how you make a Slutty Half-Zeltron."

Atton had no idea what time it was. Well, perhaps no idea was an exaggeration. He knew what time he had arrived, based both on his personal chrono and according to the computer displays on the public transport he'd taken to reach Holiday Towers; knowing the time now according to his chrono would give him a measure of the time ellapsed, which he could then convert in accordance with with the rotational period of Bespin - which he knew - to at least work out whether it had passed midnight by Cloud City reckoning. Of course, matters would no doubt be complicated by the fact that Cloud City was airborne, potentially beset by weather patterns, and thus the length of a day could vary as its relative position. So not no idea. Just not enough of an idea for it to be worth caring about.

What was relevant was that, based on their own personal work cycles, the Imperial patrons had decided to call it a night. The seven pilots had been reduced to three by the end of the night, two having peeled off from the main group to 'bullseye' some 'womp rats', to use a very tired euphamism for having sexual intercourse with a pair of hookers; one of the others meanwhile had passed out, and so the final pilot had volunteered to - once roused - walk him back to the barracks, only to collapse about three paces outside the door.

Arriana hadn't appeared particularly happy about having to contact security to escort the two pilots home, and if the glares she'd been casting in his direction for the last hour or so were anything to go on, she seemed to blame him for somehow being responsible for their alcohol over-indulgeance.

Either that, or she was still bitter about the hat; she had spent a lot of time nervously adjusting her hair in front of reflective surfaces when she thought nobody was looking.

In any case, the bar had for the most part emptied, and with the stools and tables cleaned and stowed appropriately as per the usual proceedure, the bar staff had gathered around Atton for lessons on how to mix various extra cocktails from off their standard menu, which Atton had learned of and collected on his travels of the galaxy.

Seeing Arriana stalking in his direction however, he was forced to offer the group an appologetic smile. "That's all fer t'night, I'm afraid," he informed them, sliding the drink down the bar to the Twi'lek from earlier, who he'd decided was his favourite. "Assumin' I'm not stuffed an' mounted as a trophy on a wall by tomorrow night, I'll see you all then."

The crowd dispursed, and as Arriana closed to within effective blaster range, he flashed her his best, disarming smille. "So then, guv," he said, sweetly. "How was that fer a first shift?"

[Arriana Rezner]

Arriana traced a clawed fingertip along the bar-top. The counter was spotless, and its many oddly shaped glasses and bottles had been stored away on their shelves like the well-ordered tools of a mad scientist. Initial reports indicated that The Ison Lounge had made a good profit for the evening and that the expansion of the drinks menu to include a colourful new array of cocktails had been a successful. Novelty always ways.

Once again eyeing Atton with a haughty look that sat far too easily on her features, Arriana smiled a thin smile.

“You play the rrrringmaster well, Kira. Vas therrre anyone who didn't fall for your charrrms?”

[Atton Kira]

The bar cloth had managed to magic itself back into Atton's hand; he fiddled with it idly, the occasional half-hearted effort made to dust the few remaining streaks of moisture from the bar's surface.

"Only one," he admitted, not looking at Arriana directly; his menial task was a means towards focus, but even with it as a crutch he couldn't manage to stop a hint of the sly smile he'd been trying to keep under wraps from forming on his face.

He glanced up at her, mischief on his eyes. "I'm still not convinced tha' she's a completely lost cause, though."

[Arriana Rezner]

“I hope that look in your eyes is all part of the act, Kirrra.”

Arriana turned away and with hands on her hips surveyed the deserted Ison Lounge. It had seen its fair share of locals and Imperials alike, and she was curious to know if their had been any loose tongues wagging.

“Did you learrrn anything of interest this evening?”

[Atton Kira]

Not discouraged in the slightest, Atton shrugged, and tossed the bar rag over his shoulder.

"Its a multi stage plan," he offered, arms casually folding, tone not seeming in the least bit bothered about his relatively minimal success. "I gotta earn the trust a' these gals an' geezers, before they'll open up proper like," he explained, cocking his head to one side. Worse, he'd spent the evening mostly behind the bar, and while the waitress staff had been dutiful in feeding back if they heard anything important, their powers of espionage and observation were admittedly somewhat lacking.

His eyes narrowed, musing. "Did 'ere somethin' that might be worth a thought or two, though." He scanned his memory for the relevant name, wondering if there was anything retained in his subconscious relevant to the individual in question. "Mention a'ra man name a' 'urst Falco. Sounds like 'e is a bit of an 'ardass, an' is job is t' make trouble fer people like us. Might be worth a with bit a' ganderin'; see what we can dig up."