Fandom: Stars Wars: X-Wing Series
Characters: Hobbie Klivian, Wes Janson, Plourr Ilo
Disclaimer: Not mine. Non-profit organization.
Summary: Wes, Hobbie, and Plourr walk into a bar. Chaos ensues.
Author Note: Originally completed in October 2008, for a prompt from sotto_voice — .
Hobbie ducked behind the bar as another bottle of liquor exploded over his head. “Why does this always happen when we go places with her?”
Wes brushed bits of glass from his hair. “Because we’re stupid enough to go places with her.”
They peeked over the bar in unison, just in time to see Plourr smash an unfortunate Trandoshan’s head through a table.
“This is your fault,” Hobbie said.
Wes glared at him. “How?”
“Because it’s always your fault. And because you’re the one who convinced her to come.”
From the other side of the bar came the sound of splintering furniture, followed by an inhuman howl of pain. Wes grinned. “She’s fun. Admit it.”
A man careened over the bar, nearly landing in Hobbie’s lap. He bounced off the wall and hit the floor with a groan. Hobbie kicked him in the face, and the man went limp.
“One night off,” he said mournfully. “We get one night off, finally, and you’re going to get me arrested.”
“The only thing we did was provoke a few swoop gang egos.”
“You provoked. On purpose. So this would happen.”
“What’s your point?” Wes popped his head over the lip of the bar again. “Do you think we should help?”
Hobbie twisted and pushed himself into a half-crouch so he could see. Plourr stood in the middle of the wrecked bar, surrounded by five angry swoopies in various states of physical damage. Unconscious bodies lay strewn across the floor among the debris of what had been a dozen or so cheap, dirty tables. Plourr grinned and waved the swoop gang’s leader toward her.
“Five on one.” He turned back toward Wes. “I think she’s got it covered.”
Wes nodded. “I wouldn’t want to spoil her fun. I’m pretty sure this is the only time she has fun.”
With a few wobbly battle cries, the sounds of brawling recommenced behind them. Hobbie scanned the wrecked shelves of alcohol the lined the wall behind the bar. “Hey, look. That bottle of Whyren’s is still intact.”
Wes nodded, looking innocent. “We might be here awhile.”
An unmistakable thud sounded as another of Plourr’s opponents hit the floor. Hobbie winced. “Probably not, actually.”
“Then we’d better drink fast.”
Hobbie found an unbroken glass on the bar’s shelf at his back, and Wes left their cover long enough to retrieve the Whyren’s.
“To Plourr,” Wes said, raising the bottle in a toast. “Without whom our nights off would be much less exciting.”
“I like it when things aren’t exciting,” Hobbie muttered. Wes raised his eyebrows and waved the bottle. Hobbie sighed and lifted his glass. “To Plourr.”
A body hit the bar, and the vibrations traveled all the way down Hobbie’s spine.
“May she never do to us what she is currently doing to them.”