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WHO: Sinjir Rath Velus, Eli Vanto, Alex Marino, possibly others?
WHERE: various bars
WHEN: various times
WHAT: talking, drinking, ~~crying~~
WARNINGS: mentions of torture, drinking

for Eli; present time
Generally, when other Imperials found out Sinjir was a deserter-slash-traitor, things did not go well, needless to say. He still bore a few traces of the beating he took back on Kashyyyk when Grand Moff Tolruck's brute, Odair Bel-Opis transformed his face into a bloody, swollen, bruise-darkened mess. Here, he's not expecting to encounter any even remotely similar situations, this place being fairly far removed from the conflicts back home (plus no team members in need of rescue), but all the same, revelations are still likely to be unpleasant, at least with Imperials he had some respect for once upon a time.

Eli Vanto. It's been quite some time since Sinjir had even thought of the man, much less wondered what had become of him, but Eli, being from an earlier time wouldn't know that either. Presumably still trailing around after Thrawn somewhere, not that he's heard much about the Chiss lately either. Looking back at those scant three months he and Eli were at Royal together, it strikes him as odd that the older boy had befriended him at all, Sinjir being more interested in hating everyone. But Eli on the other hand, had friendliness to spare, so that made up for it he supposed. Whether or not the other Imperial would feel the same way after their impending conversation, who knows? But at least Sinjir might get a free drink or two out of it, taking him up on the invitation to visit the Pour Decisions bar.

for Alex; backdated to a little bit after this
Historically, Sinjir has not been a person who makes friends, that being a little difficult when one has a job interrogating and torturing fellow officers suspected of varying levels of misdeeds, from petty theft to plotting to assassinate Vader and overthrow the Emperor. Friendship was a weakness and Sinjir didn't have weaknesses; he exploited them in others. Granted, his desertion after Endor brought that to an abrupt end, but even then, friends were not things he had any interest in having and certainly made no attempt to cultivate—so why, he'd like to know, does he seem to have so many of them now? Granted, they aren't here (most of them) and yes, he does miss them, especially Jas Emari, whom he's closest to on the team. But that's certainly no reason to make new friends, even if the potential friend might remind him of Jas in some respects. He barely even knows Alex, after all. Besides, having a few drinks doesn't necessarily lead to friendships, does it? No, it doesn't. Ugh. Stop arguing with yourself, Sinjir.

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Amusingly Alex herself had been wondering about her sudden interest in accruing friends in this new place. Oh she could argue that it was for forming a core of lieutenants at the heart of the new gang she wanted form, or that it only made sense to have allies in a strange and new place...but those argument rang hollow, even to her. Which was why drinking was such a great past-time; it removed the need to think about pressing questions, or even think at all.

Which was how she found herself striding into the bar Sinjir had invited her to, boots clicking on the stained hardwood floors. When she spotted him Alex beelined for the table, while signaling the waitress.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. Still learning my way around this place yeah?"

For his part, Sinjir has no intention of forming or joining anymore teams—not that he had any back home either and look how that turned out. Back then though, he was completely directionless and at a loss, and things just seemed to fall into place as if filling a void. Which is not to say he isn't feeling similarly right now, given the abrupt change in his circumstances and his resurgence of self-loathing after the murder of Windom Traducier back on Chandrila, but to a lesser degree. Perhaps he's getting used to it? At least he's not a fugitive or a criminal here (at the moment).

"No worries, I've been keeping myself busy," he says in return, lifting his glass in illustration. "There is probably a GPS on your network device, it that's helpful to you."

"I'm not good with technology," she answers, plopping down into the seat opposite him. "Damn phones always asking for all my info and shit, and then broadcasting it out over the network anytime I say anything. Fuckin' thing."

She could be a bit of a luddite, in her own way. But pull Alex away from the trappings of civilization and technology and she'd be running back before too long.

"Mm yes," he concurs with a grimace. "I replied to an anonymous text, only to find out that I, myself was not anon." He shrugs. "No reason why I should've expected to be I suppose, but it was a slight shock to find my identification imprinted on the device in such a helpful manner." A slight eye-roll there.

"It might be beneficial at some point to find a slicer who could hack it." Which of course, reminds him of Conder, his ex. Oh, good job self.

"Yeah I've been lookin' around for someone who can hack the system but I don't have a lead on anyone yet. I assume that means you don't know to do it either?"

Alex grins at Sinjir broadly, eyes twinkling a little. "So you don't hack, you don't fight off butterflies, and you can barely drink this worlds Alchohol. What DO you do Omae?"

"I do not. But then, I haven't exactly tried, either," he says, poking a little at the phone in his hand. "The technology is more primitive than what I'm familiar with, but that doesn't necessarily make it simple, given hacking is not in my skillset in the least."

At the question, he keeps his eyes on the phone, not that he's necessarily reading anything on the screen. "At the moment? Absolutely nothing. Here, anyway. Previously, I used to interrogate and torture fellow soldiers in an official capacity for an authoritarian government." He pauses, taking a drink. "Until I deserted, that is."

"Damn son, sounds like a harsh gig." Alex smiles as the Waitress sets down her beer, taking a long pull. "What made you leave?"

The question was mostly sarcastic, it seemed pretty obvious why someone would leave a situation like that. But, as she so often found herself being here, Alex was curious. Exactly why someone would leave a situation like that could tell you a lot about them...potentially anyway.

While he doesn't have too much of a problem being candid about his former position in a cynical 'look at what a terrible person I am' sort of way, he's a little less inclined to go into his mental and emotional state as he watched Death Star v.2 explode into cosmic dust particles, even with people he knows a lot better than Alex.

He simply smiles sardonically as he slides the phone back into his pocket. "Seemed like a good time for a career change. But enough about me—what's your story?"

"Back home I lead the biggest bunch of Ass-Kickers and Name-Takers this side of a Mongol Horde, the Third Street Saints." Alex says with no small amount of pride, "Been thinking I might start up a chapter here since I'm stuck for an undisclosed amount of time. I could do with being rich and famous across two different worlds."

The thought brings a sardonic smile to her face.

That doesn't surprise him too much, given she'd already reminded him of Jas, who happens to be an exceptional ass-kicker as well. "Do you specialize in kicking any particular asses? Or is it more of a territorial thing? Master of all you survey and so forth."

"Mostly territorial. Thing about being Queen of the heap is there's always someone who comes along and things they can do it better, or that they deserve a piece of what you worked hard for." She takes a sip and flashes a wide grin. "S'never worked out well for 'em though."

"Fast-forward to the here and now, where everyone and their pets have multiple superpowers," he says, reaching for a bowl of what appears to be a bar snack of some kind (peanuts in their shells), holding one up and squinting at it dubiously. "Which might even the odds a little bit more, depending on what yours are."

Casually Alex snagged a peanut of her own, cracked the shell by example and then popped it into her mouth. Although if she'd been thinking, she could have just let him bite into it.

"Yeah I don't get to shoot lightning or fly or anything like that, so I guess I might be behind in the powers department." The gangers shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "But I find a .50mm round between the eyes tends to even the score with just about anyone."

He's definitely put worse things in his mouth, but he appreciates the example. He will however, split the shell open with his fingers rather than his teeth to extract the nuts, making a small pile of them on the bar.

"That would be a gun of some sort, I take it?" he assumes. He still has his blaster and enough gas cartridges to last him for a while, but it wouldn't hurt to look into what was available locally for weapons.

That brought Alex up short, she paused with peanut mid-way to her mouth and turned her head with exaggerated slowness to regard Sinjir with wide eyes.

"How can you have heard of guns and never of bullets?"

"Oh, there are many types of guns; blasters, spring guns, snare guns, gravity guns, flak guns, rail guns... to name just a few," he says, entirely unfazed by her overstated reaction. "Bullets however, are very archaic primitive things and I can hardly be blamed for not knowing the name of a specific type."

"...you have gravity guns and rail guns?" Well now it was Alex who was feeling like the one who didn't know anything about guns, and that was a new sensation for her. Guns were pretty much her bread and butter.

"Yeah it's a type of bullet. Fifty cal is half an inch, or point five of an inch, in diameter. One of the most powerful rounds for a handgun, and it makes a fine mess out of anything it hits."

"Not personally, no. I've heard of them, however." He tilts his head in consideration. "Actually the latter might be something of an antique as well. Old-fashioned."

Finished shelling nuts for the time being, he pops one into his mouth. "You know death isn't permanent here, right? It's only a matter of time before they come and kill you back."

"Is it non-permanent for everyone? I thought it was just a 'bonus' for us ImPorts. 'Sides, if a bullet makes a mess of your egg salad, it can also make a mess of knees, elbows or hands. Not many people want to risk that more than once, even if they can just reset themselves."

Alex shrugged coolly, popping another peanut into her mouth. "So far it hasn't been an issue. Fuck I can't even find anyone to MAKE a gang, nevermind have to defend it."

"You are correct, yes—an imPort 'perk.'" Well. As far as he knows. "Mind you, I'm not exactly an authority on the subject and I'd rather not gather information in anything resembling a firsthand capacity."

Not that he hasn't voluntarily walked into quite a few death-defying situations, but he'd rather have a more substantial reason than idle curiosity.

"Maybe it's the superpower thing. Anyone who'd be a potential gang member under normal circumstances, now suddenly views themself as leadership material. Or a lone wolf."

"Whatever it is, it's a pain in my ass." Alex sighs as she calls for another. If she can't toast to a new chapter of the Saints, she'll just have a few for the hell of it.

"What about you? You been up to anything interesting since you got here? Or just seeing how another worlds booze holds up?"

"Mostly just the latter," he admits. Oh, she's having another? Don't mind if he does as well.

"I suppose at some point, I'll need to look into some form of gainful employment. One that doesn't involve handling bugs, preferably." His expression reflects his distaste for the entirety of that prospect, insects aside.

"Wanna join a gang?" She's only half-serious really, Sinjir's made it pretty clear that he walks to the beat of his own drum...but it can't hurt to ask. She grins at him as she does. "Health benefits are for shit, you get fame, fortune and the opportunity to spend more time with yours truly."

Her sales pitch needs work.

Sinjir smiles, shaking his head before giving Alex a mildly rueful look. "I think I'll have to pass, having developed this pesky moral center of late, which might be at odds with some of the traditional gangland activities. Should you ever branch out in more of a vigilante direction, it may be something to consider."

"Ugh, moral center man. That shit will get you killed." Alex paused to take a sip, a rueful smile working its way onto her features. "Funny thing is The Saints started as sort of Vigilante I guess. Like an anti-gang-gang where we took the fight to the gangs ruining and running Stillwater."

"I'm aware," he says dryly. At least he's only inclined to act the hero for his friends, rather than for any random idiot whose hide might need saving at any given time. "Perhaps you should look into revisiting that sentiment; possibly add mercenary onto it as well. More of a gang for hire."

"Don't really see the point Omae. The Saints brand was worth hell money before I got zapped over here, and people loved and feared us all over the damn place. Doesn't really feel like I need to be changing things up yeah?"

She might, sort of, maybe, be like a small super-villain if she ever sat down to really think about it.

"The point would be that it might possibly generate more interest, since you said the lack of members is a problem." He shrugs. "But it's not as though I can make that argument with anything resembling a voice of experience."

Alex seems to deflate a little, settling back against her seat with a small frown working across her features. "Well you've got a point there. Can't have a gang if I can't have any fuckin' members."

Maybe a shift of priorities WAS in order?

During those three months at Royal, Eli had constantly been on his guard and trying to avoid incoming aggressions from all sides. It only seemed obvious that the few who didn't were the ones Eli took note of (as well as taking note of those who were more hostile than the usual). Sinjir had fallen into those precious first few.

And having been angry and frustrated with Thrawn, trying to make at least a friend or two seemed smart. It had been needed.

Being here, being a bartender had tapped into Eli's friendly nature; not having to be in a war or on his guard all the time, and he has everything he wants.

Not a particularly busy night just yet, when Sinjir walks in Eli waves in his direction. "Hey, you did show up."

While Sinjir certainly could be aggressive when he chose to be, that had never characterized his encounters with Eli at all, sensing from the beginning perhaps, that Vanto had more potential as a companion in anger than an opponent, having enough of the latter and few of the former. Allies had not been a thing he'd actively sought, but when it happened unexpectedly, he'd been accepting in that regard.

Then Eli had graduated all too soon, and Sinjir went back to being angry, friendless and too smart for his own good. Everything ISB recruiter Sid Uddra wanted in a trainee.

"Yes indeed. I made time in my extremely busy schedule and came out of my way just for you," he replies with a smirk, having a seat at the bar. "Please pretend the first part of that isn't an obvious lie."

Eli throws his head back and laughs, a clear sign that he is really happy to see Sinjir and that he considers their friendship intact despite the years of disconnect. "That's sweet of you to come all the way out here just for me. Come on, sit. I'll get you something to drink."

An empty glass is placed in front, Eli does love this particular trick, making it all happen with a snap of his fingers. "What do you want? And don't worry, drinks are on me tonight."

Pour Decisions Pub was one of Eli's favourite places in this world and it was clear he was in his element here. Just like he'd been while treading in Thrawn's shadow.

"I was afraid you'd never ask." He's been here all of five minutes after all. "Something strong. Surprise me with your expertise."

In a way, it's both odd and entirely normal to see Eli looking exactly as he had when Sinjir last saw him—this is how he remembers him after all, even though his brain keeps telling him it's been ten years. Well, not quite the same, admittedly; no uniform in sight, hair a little longer and in desperate need of a comb. He can only imagine what Eli thinks of him; ten years older, no uniform either. He occasionally still wears the jacket he took from the dead rebel on Endor, but not tonight. Thinner, scruffier, more cynical and world-weary. Definitely less sober than he'd been while in service to the Empire, but he'd been a fairly hard drinker even then on off hours; already having a hard time living with himself, if only subconsciously.

"So," he begins, lacing his fingers together on top of the bar. "How long have you been here in this—" he pauses, searching for a term. "Vacation from reality?" If that's even apt.

"Are you ready? Because this is a good trick." Eli announces with a flourish and taps the glass. It goes from empty to filled some colourful concoction that is clearly alcoholic, and Eli looking horribly pleased with himself as one can be.

As for what Eli thinks, well, he's never been one to hold things against others. After all, people berated him for being from Wild Space and then for being a 'pet' to the alien Grand Admiral that invited the ire of most of High Command. No, Eli's assessment of Sinjir was more geared towards concern.

"Vacation from reality." Eli repeats, slow and amused, "About four months and counting." And it had done Eli well, he's certainly less angry and weary that when he was serving as aide to Thrawn.

"Welcome, by the way, I'm sorry I was away when you arrived."

Sinjir is not the type of person who's easily fazed (aside from those times when he pretends to be, for exaggerated effect), but when Eli does his little trick, Sinjir's jaw literally drops and all he can do is stare open-mouthed for a moment—which abruptly ends as he lets out a wail. Well, not a loud wail that would cause all the other bar patrons turn and stare; more of a low-key expression of anguish.

"Oh, this is so not fair," he mutters. First the age thing, now this? "Why couldn't I get a useful power instead of—" He breaks off, not even able to bring himself to say it, it's so horrible. That doesn't stop him from taking the drink and tasting it though, remembering to be polite a little after the fact. "Thank you." Also slightly petulant, but he'll get over that quickly enough.

"I watched a little of your island adventure, sickeningly sweet though it was. You and that fellow... Bodhi Rook? Disgustingly cute together." The barely discernible impish twinkle in his eye might be an indication he wasn't actually disgusted by it. Sinjir pauses, tilting his head. "Why does that name seem familiar?"

"Pick up your jaw, Sinjir." Eli teased, "And you're welcome." He does not seem put off in the slightest by the smidge of petulance from Sin if anything it seems to amuse him further. Really, making drinks was Eli's favourite thing about his new powers.

"What are your powers exactly? Can't be that bad, I've met a lot of people with really interesting abilities and —"

Oh, the island thing, Eli feels himself blush and rubs the back of his neck. "I'll introduce you sometime, he's a really great guy. Maybe you've heard of him from the rebellion? He's part of it." Was.

His response to the first directive is a very articulate 'hrumph,' said mostly into his glass. Fine, yes. Go ahead, be cheerful. It's not as if Eli has to deal with... ugh. Just the thought makes him flinch.

"It absolutely is that bad," he says with a wince, this clearly being the end of the galaxy as they know it. He pauses, taking a breath. "I have been given the ability to summon spiders." Which as Eli might remember from their academy days, he has a terror of, with even a teeny house spider running across the floor making him freeze in place, saying a prayer to a hundred gods he didn't believe in. Don't even talk to him about big spiders, thank you. He'll never forgive Han Solo for that plan back on Kashyyyk, handsome charismatic jerk that he is.

He's not so preoccupied with his revulsion that he misses that blush though, leaping at the opportunity to veer the conversation far far away from arachnids.

"Ahaha, you like him," he teases, as he goes back to trying to recall where he'd heard the name before. It takes him a moment, then— "Oh." He closes his mouth again, wondering whether or not it would be a good idea to elaborate.

Oh. It was that bad. Eli did remember that spider incident back at the Academy. He'd bee tempted to tease Sinjir then but the look of absolute horror stopped him — Eli wasn't an asshole. Besides, he himself had been terrified of his future at that point thanks to Thrawn.

"Sure," Eli admits with a smile, "I like him. I like you too. You're my friends." Then he has the gall to reach across and place a hand on Sinjir's hair, tempted to ruffle it as if he were the younger party in this conversation.

"There are friends and there are friends," he says a little absently, wondering if Eli knows his friend Bodhi is an Imperial deserter with a bounty on his head. Knowing he's a rebel doesn't necessarily include knowing that part. On the other hand, maybe he doesn't care? Considering Sinjir now falls into the same category, hopefully that's the case.

He smiles a little weakly in return, barely noticing the touch of Eli's hand. "I hope we're still friends. Erm... considering." He coughs, hesitating to go on.

Eli wouldn't care, he'd probably be more put off to find out about how terrifying Sinjir had been with the ISB than his decision to abandon the Empire. "Friends are friends, we're not getting into weird sublevels about them."

Withdrawing his hand, Eli waits for Sinjir to continue, offering an encouraging nod. "Considering...?"

As far as Sinjir knows, Eli is still a good little loyal Imperial, although he's definitely something of an anomaly, in that he's actually a nice person in a service where so many aren't, Sinjir included. Although as a loyalty officer, it had been his job to be an asshole; with so many other Imperials, it was generally a matter of course.

"I... am actually... not with the ISB any more, or even the Empire in general," he says finally, studying the wall above Eli's head. "I deserted several months ago."

Surprise, then understanding. Eli doesn't need a lot of reasons as to why someone would desert the Empire but Sinjir had been, well, terrifying and loyal. This was one betrayal Eli wouldn't have seen coming but then Sinjir was older, who knew what else had happened since they had last met?

"Alright. I assume there were reasons and there is a whole story behind this that you'll eventually share." A wry smile, Eli isn't going to chew you out, Sinjir. You're safe from this Imperial.

As much as he's trying to avoid meeting Eli's eyes, he does catch the initial look of surprise, which is certainly much better than disappointment and disgust. But then, that might still happen given what he's about to say next.

"Oh yes, undoubtedly there were reasons, which sadly, I've not yet figured out. Not completely, at any rate," he responds glibly, not wanting to elaborate on his crisis of faith at the moment, having other things to say first.

"There's more, however." The corner of his mouth quirks and this time he glances over at Eli's face. "I'm not just a deserter, I'm a traitor as well." Which might not matter much either if Eli knows about Bodhi and is all right with it. It's the next part that Sinjir doubts will sit well.

"I've spent the last few months doing jobs for the New Republic, hunting down the people they consider Imperial war criminals."

Eli takes most things in life with stride — he has had to in order to reign in his temper and constant desire to punch things (read: Thrawn). And, well, Eli doesn't have room to judge even if he were inclined to, which he isn't.

"Ah." He props his elbow on the bar and rests his chin on the back of his hand, looking at Sinjir. Clearly, Eli is turning about the information in his head, tying loose ends and trying to read between the lines for what Sinjir is not saying.

"Then let me ask, and I want you to tell me the truth, even if I won't like it." A tilt of his head, assessing whether or not Sinjir will do as asked. "Was Grand Admiral Thrawn among them and if so, did you hunt him down?"

Sinjir shakes his head, the movement brief. "We have not gone after that particular grand admiral, no." Yet, his eyes say. "He may very well be next, but Norra Wexley would know more about that than I and as far as I know, she isn't here to ask."

He twists his glass in his hands before lifting it and taking a fortifying swallow.

"I've heard that Mon Mothma is about to sign a declaration denoting that all still-living Imperial officials would now be categorized as war criminals." Including Eli, perhaps.

"Going after him would cost more to your side than his." His tone is factual and while he admires Thrawn he is perfectly aware of the ruthless nature lurking beneath his skin. If he'd had to pick someone in the galaxy it would be Thrawn, over and over again but that did not mean Eli wanted others to die. He could live with it, however, if it meant Thrawn lived.

"Ah." Eli meets Sinjir's eyes, something unsettled, "Not all Imperial official were corrupt." There were good officers too, who did their duty, who followed the chain of command and the ideals Eli had naively believed in. People like Karyn Faro.

Normally, while serving Eli wouldn't take a drink. This is a special occasion as he pulls out a glass and conjures a shot of a clear liquid that he downs in one go. "Being categorised as that is a good reason for them to run into the Unknown Regions."

"Perhaps." Sinjir shrugs. "He's most assuredly extremely dangerous, which is an argument in favor of, not against, trying to take him into custody."

Sinjir snorts. "Believe me, I have no intention of chasing a bunch of pudgy Imperial accountants across backwater worlds. Or for that matter, anyone who could be considered remotely ethical. Even if they're 'technically a criminal,' I can't imagine there'd be much of a bounty on anyone who isn't notorious in some way." He hesitates again, looking into the glass. "I'm not at all certain how much longer I'm going to be involved in that anyway. If I stay with this fancy new government, eventually they're going to want me to do things I'm trying not to do. I am, quite frankly, tired of following orders."

He lifts his eyebrows a little at Eli downing the shot, but otherwise has no comment about the sudden need for it. "They're already doing that, even beforehand. It's been quite a while since anything's been heard of Thrawn, for example."

Quite a while gives Eli some hope about issues he has put at the back of his mind for now. Eli knows he will live, well, or that at least his death will not come at the hand of the Empire or the Rebellion. That his death will most likely have to do with his job for the Ascendancy and that he will die among the Chiss who are now his side, his people.

Thrawn, however, had stayed.

"I don't envy your current life back there." Eli slides another drink over to Sinjir as if to soften the blow of those words. "Anyone with a significant rank will be a target regardless of their ethical or not actions. War is war, I guess, even if I was not around to see it."

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