Description: With the Southtown Hotel still crawling with Star Wars fans in costume, Hawk Solo and Scout Trooper Coco find each other in the bar and settle in for a few fresh cocktails between battles. Things start to move in a new direction, and the pair make plans for future training together. Guest starring Morgie the Ewok!
Hawk Solo walks in to the Cantina dressed in a cream coloured tunic, black waistcoat and dark blue pants secured with a leather belt. As his calf-length black leather boots strut across the room, he takes the time to adjust his gun holster, that's slung low across his hips. Inserted into the strap that runs down against his outer right thigh is a black DL-44 blaster pistol.
As he reaches the long wooden bar, he leans over it, beckoning the bartender towards him. "Flameout" he orders. "Make it a double."
He looks around the dimly lit room at the strange and wonderous creatures who share the space with him and lets out a contented sigh. Hawk was having a lot of fun and it wasn't even the evening yet. As he's handed his drink, he takes a long swig, feeling his tongue scald and his throat freeze.
There's a sound of footsteps approaching from behind as Hawksley experiences the elemental extremes, and a moment later, the barrel of a weapon presses into the middle of Hawk Solo's back.
"Oh, look. I've found some rebel scum here."
The slightly sabulous and high-pitched Chelsea accent is likely unmistakable for the Irishman, even muffled as it is by a helmet, as is the sound of a chuckling bearcat that immediately follows.
A moment later the toy blaster rifle flashes with red light as its trigger is pulled, the sound effect drawing a slightly annoyed look from the barman.
Another couple of seconds later, the helmet - a white plastic piece that has a plate over the visor that signifies the gear of a Scout Trooper rather than the standard Stormtrooper design - is placed on the bartop next to where Hawksley is sitting, and a black-and-white-clad Coco leans against the bar. She's wearing a different costume from the one that she wore for her bonus round match - likely because it was slashed into several pieces during her battle - and is wearing a white plastic chestplate, shoulder pads, elbow guards and gauntlets over a long-sleeved black top. Her legs are covered by a pair of black tights with a white V over the bottom and crotch, and her feet are covered by a pair of white block-heeled boots with shin guards. A white belt around her waist hangs a few additional accessories to add authenticity. Meanwhile, her back and midriff are totally bare, because female Scout Troopers apparently don't have to worry about gut shots.
Captain Morgan, for his part, is still dressed in his traditional red Ewok hood, climbing off of Coco's shoulder and onto the bar.
"Looks like I shot first," Coco crows as she leans against the bar on her white elbow pads, turning her face to Hawksley. "Remember how we said you totally owe me before?"
Despite the dramatic effects of the drink, Hawk Solo decides to be daring and risk another attempt at it. As the lethal liquid slips down his throat, his buff body shudders against the barrel of the blaster rifle in his back.
"You got me good" he gasps. "Will you grant a dying man a last request?"
He turns slowly to look at the Scout Trooper, a sly smile on his face. "As for owing you. Isn't it enough that you've taken my life now?" Hawk asks, in a broad Irish brogue.
The costume may be pretty close, but the accent needs a lot more work.
The purple-haired Scout Trooper's shimmering lips form into a pout as Hawk Solo tries to turn her debt collection into a favour for himself instead. She slings the blaster she's carrying over her back by a black strap and turns her body toward the Irish star smuggler's.
"Well, why don't you tell me what your last request is?" she concedes as Captain Morgan, serial traitor that he is, recognizes his pal from the other day and climbs up on Hawksley's shoulder. "You'd best not go kidnapping my binturong again, by the by. And even if I am willing to listen to your pretend last request, you owe me for realsies for getting me tossed out that yoga class by me knickers."
As he polishes a glass with a cloth, the barman's eyes shift curiously between the two rookie fighters at that comment, one eyebrow rising.
"My last request is that you join me for a drink, Coco Pops" Hawk Solo responds with another smile, this time of the sweet variety.
He pets his pal as Morgy climbs on to his shoulder, running his fingers through his grey fur. "Alright, Fuzzball. Good to see you, fella."
He gestures for the barman to fetch another Flameout for his female companion. "For the record there was no kidnapping involved. It was more of a rescue effort. I found the poor little fella rolling around on the ground by himself, so I did. He was more than happy to join his uncle Hawksley for some company and a cuddle."
He hands the drink to Coco as it is placed down on the bar by him. "As for the yoga thing, that was a right old laugh. You should thank me for entertaining you."
He winks at the barman, as he sees the raised eyebrow. "It's all go around here, Shun."
"Well, seeing as it's your last request," Scout Trooper Coco responds to Hawk Solo's reply, her own smile even sweeter - saccharine, even. The sarcasm fades from her smile as she relaxes against the bar. "Morgie must have given the handlers the slip in his disguise. Thanks for making sure he didn't come to any harm, I suppose, other than suffering your company for the duration of the match. Obviously, he doesn't mind, for one." Her blue-grey eyes flit to the bearcat perching on Hawksley's shoulder like a sidekick and sticks her tongue out at the traitor before raising her shot glass to her lips. "I think you're the only one who was entertained by that. I was trying to keep flexible and work on my mindfulness," she says before knocking her shot back in one.
She twists her lips up, grimacing, before exclaiming: "Bloody hell! One minute it's burning, then the next it's like pure mint or something. What the devil did you just make me drink, Lucky?" she asks with an accusing glare.
"That would be a Flameout" The Irishman responds with an impish grin. "Horrible ain't they?"
"You're welcome on the babysitting of the bearcat. He's no bother. I can see why you're fond of the fella. I'm not quite sure why he hangs out with a haughty Cailin like you though" he teases, but there's no malice in his tone.
"That's another interesting costume you're wearing by the way, but on balance I think I favour the one from yesterday. That was quite a show you and the others put on. I had a grand old time. It got me right in the mood for Star Wars, hence the Hans Solo get up."
"It's absolutely horrid," Coco complains with a sneer as she pushes the empty glass away vehemently. "Do they have those Pan-Galactic Gargle Whatevers? They're supposed to be fun." She runs her fingers through her loose purple hair as she gives it a toss. "And why wouldn't Morgie want to hang out with a hottie like me?" she demands to know, before realisation dawns on her features. "Wait, you didn't call me a hottie, you called me haughty! The cheek on you!" she says, smacking Hawksley lightly on the shoulder with the plastic-plated back of her glove. "And was it the costume I was wearing before the match that you preferred, or the one that I was wearing at the end of it?" she asks with an accusatory glint in her eye.
"Two of your Pangalactic Gargle Blasters, Shun" Hawksley requests hopefully, but is met with a shake of the head from the smartly dressed Southtowner. "We have Flameout, Rancor's Toothpick, Death Star, Dark Side and Flying Solo" he offers.
"I'll go for the Flying Solo, then. How about you, Coco? I'm figuring you for a Dark Side girl."
The smack on his shoulder is met with a playful push back at the purple haired posh girl. "On balance I'd say I liked the customisation of the costume you did. It made it more...unique" he settles on.
"What, isn't the Pangalactic Gargle Thingy supposed to be a big thing in Star Wars?" Coco questions the barman with confusion in her features. "Or am I getting it muddled with Star Trek?"
She ends up shrugging it off, shifting her focus back to Hawksley. "And what makes you think I'm a Dark Side girl? I've got, like, literally no dark side. Cheeky, at worst. But go on."
She lets out a snort at Hawksley's remarks about her former costume. "Customisation /I/ did? Like I cut my own ass window into the suit? It was more like stockings and a vest by the time those nutters with their sharp objects were finished. Can you believe people fight with swords and such in this tournament? At least we don't have to worry about getting shot at."
An involuntary shiver runs through her as she makes the comment. "Oh, weird. I just got this weird feeling, like I felt the Force or something." She looks up at the ceiling. "Or maybe the air con just kicked in."
She looks back at Hawksley. "So, is this what you're doing to get ready for your final, then?"
"I've never heard of it" the Cork County man confesses. "I reckoned it must be something they made up here, when you suggested having it."
Shun simply shrugs in response. "If you know what's in it, I can try making it for your next drink." For now he focuses on finishing off the Dark Side for her.
"It's probably just the accent" Hawksley admits. "It kinda screams movie villain, or at least movie villain's rebellious daughter. Maybe that's the story here. You're rebelling against the evil empire of your family and have come to hang out with the handsome hero in defiance of their dangerous and dastardly ways."
His dark eyes drift up towards the ceiling as she mentions feeling 'the Force' and then settle on her silvery ones as he speaks again. "Drinking is an important part of my regime" he says solemnly. "Drinking, eating and plenty of exercise. If you ever wanna help with any of those three, let me know."
Coco lifts her shoulder pads, shrugging away the offer from Shun. "No clue, darling. I'll probably try a Death Star while they're on offer, though. That's the big bomb the Rebels used to blow up the Imperial planet, isn't it?" For now, she accepts her dark red cocktail, raising it up to admire before lifting the cherry floating on the top out by the silver cocktail stick impaled through it. She offers the cherry to her binturong, who sniffs and snickers before turning his nose up. Shrugging her shoulders, she pops the cherry in her mouth and chews.
"Well, I am rebelling against the evil empire of my family, actually. I suspect you're more dangerous and dastardly than they are, though. Maybe less likely to commit animal cruelty," she concedes, eyeing Hawksley, before adding, "Which is surprising, since usually animals have no problem being nasty to each other."
She smirks, then takes a long swig of her gin and chinato, making an 'mmm' of approval. "The Dark Side is delicious. You should try it, Lucky," she offers, before considering Hawksley's own offer. "I don't mind having a drink or five together, and I suppose I could even do dinner, if that's what you're suggesting. I'm sure you know all the best strip clubs to eat at." Her expression shifts from amusement to curiousity, head leaning to one side as she studies his face. "As for exercise, I'm curious what your idea of me assisting with that would be. Far as I've seen, your idea of exercise is staring at ladies in yoga pants while they do all the work."
Shun stares blankly at the British woman. Apparently despite being on duty for the Festival of all things Force, he is as clueless as she is.
Hawk Solo watches as the Scout Trooper chews on the cherry, his mouth curling up at the corners. "So you're calling me an animal now for good measure?" he wonders. "What kind of animal do you have me cast as, Coco?"
He takes some time to work on his 'Flying Solo', savouring the sharp tang of the lemon mixed with the tequila. "I suspect you might be trying to corrupt me. Inviting me to the dark side, saying we should visit strip clubs." His eyes seem to sparkle at the suggestion. "Maybe some exercise would work some of your wanton ways out of you, woman."
He finds it hard to keep a straight face as he's speaking and eventually adds with a laugh "I use the gym, go for a swim, walk around the city. Nothing too out there."
Coco considers the creature-casting question posed by her cocktail companion for a moment before claiming, "Probably a rooster. They strut around checking out chicks, they're dead nasty in a fight, some people might say they're handsome, and they are the literal definition of a co-I mean, you-know-whats." She leaves what she was going to finish with for Hawksley to imagine, sipping down more of her drink. She dabs at her lips with a tiny napkin. "Having fought you for realsies, though, I was more just thinking you were a beast generally."
She laughs when he accuses her of trying to corrupt him. "I'm not trying to corrupt you; I already know you like to hang out in strip clubs. And I get plenty of exercise when I fancy it. You know, yoga, tennis, pilates. Dancing, most of all." She sidles a little closer, still leaning partially against the bar. "Actually, I wouldn't mind any of those, either. Walks around the city, bit of jogging, or a nice swim." She finishes her drink, then smiles up at him. "Tell you what, you pick one type of exercise I have to do with you, and I'll pick one you have to do with me."
"A rooster huh? I suppose I can't argue too much with your summary. In the Chinese Zodiac thingy, I'm a horse. Apparently that makes me loyal, courageous and strong, but I'm not sure I go in for all that malarkey."
He seems pleased at her assessment of his fighting style. "I can't deny I'm a bit of a beast in a brawl. You wouldn't have me any other way though, would you now? I think you had a grand old time in our little tussle."
Leaning against the bar himself, he looks at Coco carefully. "You know I got paid to spend time in a strip club? I didn't just go there for kicks and company, although admittedly I got some of both along the way."
He smiles at her as she sidles closer. "Let's go for a walk together some time. Wander around this gorgeous city. There's a lot more to it than the hotel and the festival."
"I'm not keen on the Chinese zodiac, myself," Coco says with a lopsided frown. "If you go by it, I'm either a goat or a sheep. I mean, at least goat usually makes people think 'greatest of all time' now, but if you made a chart of sexiest and cutest zodiac creatures, I'm pretty sure goats score poorly in both. Supposedly it means I'm generous and kind and a soft touch. Which... well, I suppose that's not a bad thing." She considers for a moment. "I suppose you probably won't think any of those things of me, though. You've got a habit of getting on the side of me that wants free drinks and gets a bit sharp unless I've had them."
She smirks at Hawksley as he points out that he was paid to spend time in a strip club. "I'm surprised you even bothered with the yoga studio. You're probably well accustomed to ladies wearing less and posing more. Well, at least wearing less, anyway." She offers a teasing grin. "I offer to do any exercise you suggest and you choose going on a nice walk? You're such a naughty sadist, Lucky." She purses her lips in thought. "In that case, I'll have to come up with something more strenuous. Maybe involving a paddle."
"I never figured you for a rower" Hawksley muses. "I can think of worse things than being on the water with you though. I might find the perfect situation to push you in."
He grins at Coco and continues to chatter. "Don't rule out the excitement you can find on a good walk, by the way. You never know where you will end up or who you will end up with, when you go exploring."
"As for the whole goat thing, I like the animals myself. They're intelligent and inquisitive animals and they ain't fussy with their food."
He sits on one of the stools by the bar, patting the one next to him to invite her to take a seat too. "I can imagine you being generous and kind in the right situation. Apparently I just rub you the wrong way. Soft touch? You felt pretty firm when I was getting a grab of you."
Coco smirks as she plonks her posterior down on the stool indicated by Hawksley. "Rowing isn't the only thing you can do with a paddle, Lucky," she says in a suggestive tone as she brings her knees together and places her hands demurely in her lap atop the stool, her back arching as she wiggles into a lady-like pose. "Actually, I was going to say table tennis. I'm sure they must have a table or two somewhere in here," she says, relaxing her posture slightly and resting her chin forward against her hands, elbows on the bartop. "Hey, wait a minute, what's this about pushing me in?" she says with a scowl as Hawksley's words suddenly register fully. "Here I was going to compliment you for having a gentlemanly mind, but apparently it's just an immature one." She sticks her tongue out at him to express her displeasure at said immaturity before turning more toward him on her seat.
"I don't remember you getting a grab of me, Lucky. Did that happen when I was plastered the other night?"
The matter of comparing her to a goat, it seems, does not bear further exploration by the purple-haired girl.
"Table tennis? I haven't played that for a few years. I used to be alright at the youth club though. Let's do that sometime then. A nice walk and a friendly game of table tennis. Two good wholesome ways to get some exercise."
He eyes her as she settles on the stool. "I had my hands all over you when we were brawling" he reminds her. "I certainly didn't catch a cheeky grope while you were scuttered. I am too much of a gent for that."
He takes his imitation weapon from its holster and runs his fingers over it. "It looks like the real thing, so it does. There's no way I'd have let someone in the club carrying one of these."
Captain Morgan nuzzles his nose against the gun's handle, curious about what he's missing out on. Apparently unimpressed, he jumps on to Coco's knee and starts pawing her.
"We had a table in one of the recreation rooms. I used to play with my mates," Coco says as she gets a faintly nostalgic air. "I mean, I was really thinking of playing a bit of proper tennis, but then I couldn't have brought the paddle into it. I doubt you've played as much tennis as ping-pong, though, have you?" she muses with a look that's somewhere between questioning and presumptuous.
"Well, when you mentioned firmness, I assumed you were referring to something you didn't have your hands on during the match. At least, as far as I recall." She squints a little closer at the replica heavy blaster pistol that Hawksley is holding. "You mean in case it's a real laser pistol? I mean, not that there's any reason to bring that sort of thing into a strip club, to be fair."
When Morgie jumps on her knee, she turns her attention to him and starts stroking his fur. "Oh, what is it, Morgie? Is Hawksley's blaster giving you the willies? Or do you need to go for a walk with mummy?"
She looks back down at Hawksley's replica before looking at her own, cheaper and less authentic blaster rifle of indeterminate design. "It's more convincing than mine. Mine's got the big flashy lights on it."
"You like paddles then?" Hawksley wonders, raising his dark brows. "I've only played tennis a couple of times" he admits. "You something of a Serena?"
He watches the exchange between Coco and The Captain. "If you need to get him some air, feel free" he gestures towards the door. "Shun here will look after me, won't you fella?"
The Japanese bartender nods. "I'm used to the Hawkman's company by now. He's one of my best customers here."
"See, what did I tell you?" the Irishman assures Coco. "I'll be just grand."
"Oh, I'm no Serena," Coco assures Hawksley, "I don't have her talent, training or physique, but she's really awesome. It's the only sport I'm really into playing myself, though. And who doesn't love a good paddle?" She tries to put on an innocent expression as she asks the question, cuddling Captain Morgan in her arms as he starts to squirm and chuckle. "They were very popular at boarding school." She runs her gloved fingers down the binturong's neck, then scritches behind his ear as she turns her eyes to Hawksley. "Some fresh air might be nice in this outfit. You're welcome to tag along with us if you like, Lucky. He'd probably be okay for one more round, too, if you'd rather - in which case I'd be happy to pay. Much as I love free drinks, I would consider your obligation to me fulfilled at this point."
"I'm finally in the clear then? Jesus, I never thought that day would arrive. Maybe I will come for some fresh air though. It might make a nice change and I can show off my costume some more."
He raises up from his stool, moving up to beside Coco's and whispers in her ear. "You'll have to teach me about this paddle lark. My main experience is in the sea at Clonakilty."
He offers her a hand to help her up from the her stool, should she chose to take it and then slips some money to Shun.
"Get one for yourself, fella. I'd avoid the Flameouts though."
"In the clear for the moment, at least. You've managed to go a conversation without offending me, giving me the willies, getting me barred from something I like, or punching me in the face even though I asked you very nicely not to," Coco says with a prim casualness as she takes the offered hand, letting Morgie ride on her shoulders so that she can grab her helmet and carry it under her other arm. "Really, the fact that I'm willing to look past the times you've done all of those things probably means something."
She turns her eyes up sidelong to his, though she doesn't say what, exactly, it might mean. "And I'd happily go for a paddle with you, if you're up for it. Morgie would love to join in."
Log created on 17:50:02 05/06/2023 by Coco, and last modified on 20:29:30 05/07/2023.