Zay
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2014
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"Solace is only available to the man that reveres introspection."
"Solace is only available to the man that reveres introspection."
Damon Kross sat on a bar stool in a dive bar on some nameless planet staring at the slowly melting whisky rocks in his glass. He was dressed in a three piece suit. Nothing overly flashy, just a navy suit, with a canary yellow button down and a thin navy tie. Beside his glass oh whisky sat his datapad which lay unlocked and open to a screen that simply read:
TRANSACTION COMPLETE
It had taken months for him to work up the money to finally seal the deal, but he'd done it. Kross Transporting Incorporated was now an officially recognized company. For Damon that wasn't really the surprising part. For him the most shocking detail about creating and then running his own business was that it was completely legal. He'd painstakingly played the game and he'd come out on top. He'd hoped to feel accomplished, or satisfied, or maybe kind of happy about his win, but as he looked around the bar he had no one to celebrate with.
Kross had never been much for making friends. His current substance abuse problem saw to that. Even now as he sat he wanted spice. He could feel his desire for the drug slowly creeping through his veins. His skin crawled and sweat beaded across his brow. Reaching out with a shaking hand he firmly grasped the rocks glass in front of him and brought it to his lips. He took a long swig of vintage scotch and felt his need recede.
Damon hated his weakness. He hated the sithspit that got him hooked on the synthetic. He was currently two weeks sober and everyday was a struggle. Damon was always one comm transmission away from getting a hit. That knowledge constantly threatened to break him. He shook the need from his mind, but it didn't fully leave, it never did. He forced another long swig the cup and signaled the server droid for another.
While he waited on his next drink he pulled his custom cigarette case from his jacket pocket and pulled a perfectly hand rolled cigara from the metallic container. In an effortless motion he pulled his durateel lighter from his pocket, ignited it, lit the cigara, and returned it to his pocket. A thin tendril of smoke wafted carelessly from the end of the cylinder. Damon took a drag and held it. He loved the taste of the tabac plant. It was smooth and robust. Nothing like the dried out mass produced Shab sold in stores.
Kross took a moment to observe his surroundings. The bar was exactly what one would expect. A narrow hole in the wall that was home to seedy patrons looking to tie one on after a long day at work. The bar was sparsely populated and there wasn't a woman in sight. Normally, this would be a breaking point for the former pirate, but today Damon didn't feel up to the chase. He wanted to sulk and drink until he had trouble standing. Of course he wouldn't fight off any advance should they come his way.
Damon's attention returned to front and center as the server droid dropped off his drink. He lifted the glass and held it up to the hazy light above in a mock cheers then took a drink. It was going to be a boring night.