| Davon_Vanden | Date: Saturday, 14 Jan 2012, 10:41 PM | Message # 1 |
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| The past six months hadn't been kind to Davon, which was easily discernible from his current demeanor. He was seated in the farthest, darkest corner of the Shifty Jawa; emerald eyes fixated on the hefty pot on the table before him, hand slackingly clutched around the same glass of juri juice he'd ordered when he first walked through the door. Across the table, a one-eyed Chagrian smirked as he checked his hand, throwing another couple of chips into the pot and tapping the edge of the table with his thick fingers.
"Call."
Sighing in resignation, Dav dropped his hand into view. Where he normally would have gotten a good rush out of the sudden onset of bewilderment and rage that splayed across his opponent's face, he could only muster up a grim smile as the Chagrian eyed him up and down. The alien's voice dripped acid; and the Weequay behind him didn't look too happy either.
"You cheated," the alien finally spat, a vein in his blue forehead becoming dangerously close to an aneurysm as Vanden scooped the pot over to his side of the table.
"It's a cruel game, my friend. I'm sure you'll get me next time." Dav remarked as he settled back in his cushy chair and sipped at his drink. His opponent, conversely, rose to his feet and spat out a rather harsh Huttese word that would often be cause enough for fisticuffs. Even his Weequay companion squared up and let his hand hover dangerously close to the SoroSuub number he kept strapped to his thigh.
Vanden was quicker, though; in what seemed only a millisecond his larger, prettier gun was resting against the edge of the table, more than capable of putting two shots between the two losers' eyes before they even had a chance to react.
"Why don't you two go cool off, here-" he tossed a credit chip into the Chagrian's outstretched hand, "-have a drink, on me. Unless you want things to get ugly... I'm having that sort of day."
Grumbling, the two left the smuggler to his drink-to his misery.
Things had gone rather badly for Davon, and the entirety of the Aphelion's crew, since Rawls had decided it was time to hang up his gun and settle down with some conniving old flame of his from back in his loner days. He took the ship too, declaring that he 'wasn't about to choose between his two great loves,' or some noise.
As a result, the crew sort of splintered, Dav having been reduced to hustling dumb drunks out of their money just to subsist on alcohol and bar snacks. He hadn't spoken to Percy or Mara, or even Doohan, since they went their separate ways. The way he figured it, Mara was back to working on engines, Ransom was probably off in some Rancor rodeo, and Percy was most likely living with his mother again.
He didn't need them, and they didn't need him-not anymore. With another world-weary sigh, he finished the last of his juri juice and rested his forehead in weathered palms, yearning for a time when life didn't seem like such an absolute mess.
Davon "Booster" Vanden - Big Damn Hero.
For what avail the plough or sail, or land or life, if freedom fail? ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Theme ~ Wanted - Bon Jovi
Message edited by Davon_Vanden - Saturday, 14 Jan 2012, 10:49 PM |
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| Miles_Kolbrun | Date: Wednesday, 25 Jan 2012, 0:11 AM | Message # 2 |
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Private
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| (( I remembered I had an email I needed to send tonight and went later than I wanted to. I could post now but I'm so tired it wouldn't be any good. So I'm going to hold off until tomorrow so we can get this thread going right. Sorry, Davon. I goofed on this one. ))
Miles Kolbrun
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