Doctor's Orders

Corelian Darklighter

What am I doing?

When your superior officer told you to take a break, you came back to work after a half hour, only to find out that was the wrong choice.

He told you you needed to take a break. You said we were at war and you couldn't afford to. He called you one of his bests, which you smoothly countered with pointing out you couldn't take a break. He gave you a mission slip with his approval signature. The mission? Take a four day break.

That didn't answer your question.

The neon dancing holograms that threatened to burn your corneas and the pounding base of the music that vibrated in your chest didn't have an answer either.

And you were standing outside 79s.

Four days, and a whole galaxy at your fingertips, and you went to a bar. Of all the delicacies Coruscant offered, you chose to go to a bar with arguably shitty alcohol.

Fuck it. The street was cold, and you knew staring at the bar wouldn't get you wasted. According to your supervisor, you could use a little loosening up.

The lights and music could send someone into a seizure. You looked around the bar, squinting when a roving light hit your face.

The bar was packed, with clones, civilians of every race and gender, and enough bartenders and wait staff to get an entire Star Destroyer hammered.

You weaved through the crowd of sweaty bodies dancing, making your way to the calmer side of the bar where the tables and bar stood. What was the cheapest drink with the highest alcohol content?

A shoulder kicked you out of your thoughts. Your foot slid out behind you to keep from stumbling, and the offender grabbed your arm.

"My apologies," the clone offered. "I-"

He suddenly stopped, and you looked up at him, having regained your sense of balance.

"Tech!" You felt yourself fill with joy at the sight of the yellow glasses. "What are you doing here?"

Tech pushed his glasses up, releasing your arm and placing his hands behind his back. "I imagine the same as you." He gestured to a booth on the wall, where Wrecker was arm wrestling another clone. Hunter was sitting behind them, sipping a cup. Wrecker laughed as the clone made a cocky comment to his friends.

The clone ate his words as Wrecker slammed his hand into the table with a battle cry. Wrecker jumped up with hands in the air, taking his cup and slamming it back. The clone stared at his hand as his friends ushered him away, to keep him from further embarrassment. Crosshair appeared on Wrecker's side, a victorious smirk following the clones.

It was odd to see them out of their armor, all in civilian clothes. You had no doubt they had civilian clothing, but you had only seen them rushing off to another suicide mission, right into the line of fire. It was nice, seeing them laid back. Relaxed. They didn't look like the world was out to kill them, and they seemed at peace.

Tech smiled, grabbing your hand, dragging you across the floor before you knew it. "I found a friend," he sang, a clear sign of his buzz.

Wrecker's smile grew, something you didn't know was possible, and in an instant you were in his arms and he was spinning you around. You patted his arm as he put you down. "Congratulations," You awarded him as Hunter raised his glass to you, Tech sliding into the booth.

"Never pegged you for the drinking type," Crosshair drawled as he walked behind you to lean on the side of the booth.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "It's kind of mandatory."