sfoils: ๐‘‘๐‘œ ๐‘›๐‘œ๐‘ก ๐‘ก๐‘Ž๐‘˜๐‘’ (๐‘จ๐’“๐’• 001)
Cแด˜แด›. Wแด‡แด…ษขแด‡ Aษดแด›ษชสŸสŸแด‡s ([personal profile] sfoils) wrote in [community profile] synodiporia_ooc 2014-12-27 02:42 am (UTC)

Wedge Antilles | Star Wars (Legends) | Prompt #21

[ This is the seedy sort of tavern where a Corellian should feel at home. Someone like Han Solo would've already cleaned all the patrons of their money, gotten the information he wanted and be light years away from this mess.

Wedge is, sadly, not that type of Corellian. He also lacks the freighter to make his escape.

His clothes are conspicuously out of character (and out of period) for the locals. Still better than his other choice, the rebel flight suit standard to every X-wing jockey. Notorious as he looks, after the blaster incident, no one's bothering him; there's a sizable hole on one of the tables from the blaster's bolt, which didn't destroy the hard wood as much as went right through it.

So, sabacc and whiskey, two things Wedge appreciates whether on or off duty. Ends up some of the locals, eager to gamble, where intrigued by Wedge's strange card deck. Enough cajoling (in the form of free alcohol and, more valuable, free info) meant Wedge didn't have much of a choice but to start a sabacc table. Luckily, the rules weren't too complicated. Before long, everyone was betting.

To whoever approaches the table, Wedge gives them the same spiel: ]
We're closed for new players, but feel free to bet on the current players. [ He wraps his fingers around a bottle's neck and drinks, then puts the half-filled bottle next to four empty bottles.

If he's drunk, he doesn't show it. ]

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