Both Styles
by shike77
RATED: PG-13, for Territh's mouth.
Genre:One-shot humour.
POV: 3rd Person / Carth Onasi
AN: Alrighty. I'm new to the KOTOR scene, here, so, I'll introduce myself; Name's shike77, please call me shike, no capitals, L33T or any of that junk. I have not fully wrapped KOTOR, but I've gotten to that little yummy Luke-I-am-your-father Easter Egg spot, and I did come very close to finishing said game; just the enemies WOULDN'T GO AWAY. You know, that spot where there's a billion of the buggers? I refuse to participate in that one. Because I have a wussy-ass scout. ::sweatdrop:: Yes, she is a pansy.
Su. Very, very minor spoilers here; this takes place right at the beginning of the game. I'm sure you've all had this conversation; say the right things to a Sith, and they invite you to a party to get their uniforms. And blah. No, I don't reveal the Easter Egg. ::innocent smile:: Because Secrets like that are so much better when you're not expecting them. Oh yes.
A few notes on Territh: He's about 6'9", well built, and I think I've decided on soldier class for him. Even though I'm fond of scouts, personally. Whatever. Please note that he is an idiot and an utter goofball, and I adore him. He gets the spotlight today because the poor guy doesn't get near enough attention. I almost abuse his presence. So, I've vowed to pay more attention to the bugger.
Territh: ::grins::
Production Song: "Both Styles" – Fruits Basket
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Carth didn't quite understand why Territh wanted to go into the Cantina. The dark-skinned man was probably still a little shaken up from the blow to his head during the crash landing—then again, perhaps he was this insane all the time. He was quick to flirt with the first woman he ran into that happened to be his species, but after a few minutes the conversation turned to credits and he found a reason to split—which was good, because Carth didn't want to waste anything important on this idiot's various exploits. His records were credible, yes—but why the Jedi wanted a goof-off like that on the ship Carth honestly didn't know.
Not two steps into the next room Territh was leaning casually against a wall, flashing white teeth against near-pitch skin and dazzling some girl with his pretty eyes. Carth rubbed at his forehead and found a convenient wall to lean on within earshot. They didn't have time for this—they had to find a way to get past the guard at the elevator, and down into the Lower City...!
"I'm actually only here because of that whole quarantine thing. Kind of a bummer, but I'm thinking it's only temporary."
"Really? I thought you would have hated us Sith even more, being stuck on a backwater planet like this..."
Carth almost choked, and covered it with a cough. Sith?! He was flirting with a Sith officer?! Had the man no taste?!
"Eh, I was actually only s'posed to stay here an hour or two. Because of the quarantine, I've discovered the new love of my life." And he held up a bottle of Tarisian Ale—half-empty, Carth noted, even though there'd been no time to buy or drink it.
She laughed a little at that, "accidentally" brushing up against him for a moment.
"I suppose we all do have to make the best of things. That's why I'm here; but it's hard to blow off steam when everyone's sending glares your way."
"I say fuck 'em," Territh replied, rather comically. "There are three kinds of people in the world, Sarna; people like you and me, people with sticks shoved up their asses, and the important guys with sticks shoved up their asses."
Carth almost laughed at that, then ordered a shot from a waitress, so he didn't look conspicuous.
"The important dudes don't hang in Cantinas or joints like this, ya know? They're all, 'I'm too important to mingle with everyone else,' so they sit in their little battle ships or big towers and be all, 'Ooh, lookit me, I'm important!' And they stick people like us on crummy planets like this."
The Republic Pilot raised an eyebrow as Sarna giggled at that. He found it hard to picture any of his superiors as Territh described them—he'd known most of his commanders well,
"The people who have sticks shoved up their asses live on Taris; they all suck dick." Sarna burst into another fit of giggles at this, and he paused momentarily before continuing. "They sit around in here and bitch about how much life sucks, and then they go suck some more dick."
Carth could have sworn Territh sent him a pointed grin as Sarna leaned against his chest, laughing so hard she couldn't stand. A very smug, pointed, 'trust-me-I-know-what-I'm-doing' grin. (Which was a stupid thing to swear happened, because Carth had very little faith in this particular soldier's way of handling things)
"And people like you n' me? We shove those sticks up everyone else's asses. And dammit, they bother us and we shove 'em right up there, as far as they damn well go. We're the ones who don't care what the assholes think; we just do whatever the fuck we want, and we have our fun.
It took Sarna quite a while to compose herself afterwards—which involved a swig or two of Territh's stolen bottle of Tarisian ale. Carth downed the shot that had taken forever to get to him, and paid the waitress, but remained. He couldn't just ditch Territh; not even a Jedi could predict the man's actions. So he might very well have been forced to sit through a blasted barfight just because Territh couldn't keep his mouth in the right place.
"Oh, shit, look at the time," she managed after a few minutes, "I've got a shift at the military base to head to." She smiled up at him, her eyes dancing with laughter.
"I'm, um, going to a party after my shift... A whole bunch of us are going, to blow off some steam, if you want to come. It's in the apartment complex on..."
Carth stopped paying attention as she gave him directions to the party, which he innocently took down on his personal data pad. Fuck, what an idiot he got stuck with.
I've been through worse, I've been through worse...
"19:00? I'll be there. I've got a friend you should meet; is he welcome, too?"
"Sure thing; as long as he's anything like you."
Territh just grinned and waved as she left. Then he stuck his hands in his vest pockets and meandered over to Carth, a smirk on his face.
"You look mighty pleased with yourself," the Pilot mused, examining a nearby game of Pazaak, rather unimpressed with it.
"Ze ladies, zey cannot keep zeir hands off me."
Carth snorted, knowing full well who had made the first move, even without seeing the entire conversation.
"C'mon, we're going to go clean up for a pah-tay."
Carth rolled his eyes. "We can't go. We've got-"
"Walls with ears," Territh interrupted with a grin, absently heading towards the exit and depositing the bottle on the table of a passed-out man. "We've got plenty of walls. Especially the kind with that wallpaper. Yaknow, the one that has that ear-looking design on it? I know we've gotta sell it somehow, but I mean, honestly, what's a little party gonna hurt? Not like we're making progress, anyway."
Carth shut up, brooding silently.
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Territh managed to fix the running water in their beaten-up apartment-turned-base of operations with plenty of time to go until the party started, so they both had a good, long shower. Territh went first, claiming it would take him a few hours to 'do his hair' (which currently looked like a rat's nest). He was halfway done when Carth was finished with his shower, so the pilot, having nothing better to do, talked with him.
More like argued. They argued quite a bit. At first, it was just about going to the party. About saving Bastila. Then, Carth brought up the Jedi insisting that Territh be brought aboard, again, and then Territh wanted to know why Carth wouldn't just trust "poor Terr', who is completely undeserving of any negative vibe-thingies."
All right, Carth thought, I did most of the getting pissed off. Territh doesn't really seem to care.
The party had already started a half hour earlier before Territh finally finished his hair—numerous small braids, left to do whatever they wanted with themselves, as they would hear nothing of being arranged.
"You look like an idiot," Carth mused as the taller man inspected himself in the small mirror they owned.
"Hey, it's not my fault. If we had a real fucking mirror, it would actually look half-decent."
"Maybe if you actually knew what you were doing...?"
"Shaddup wit ya' mouth."
After leaving the apartment, Territh relied heavily on the half-assed map he'd doodled in his personal data pad—and as thus, got them lost several times. Carth finally, frustrated, snatched the device from the taller man and led the way.
As thus, they were quite late, and when they arrived, the party was in full swing. Territh walked in, grinning at being fashionably late, and immediately found Sarna, who latched onto him, and one of her Sith friends, whom he held a drinking contest with.
Carth, in the meanwhile, was content to down a couple shots in a secluded corner and wait for it to all end.
It didn't take as long as Carth anticipated; the Sith weren't used to Tarisian ale, and the strong liquor soon had them all rolling on the floor or passed out. Territh, in spite of the pilot's expectations, was still standing by the end of the night; regardless how many bottles he'd chugged down. Alright, so standing is a bad word, Carth thought with a wince as the dark-skinned man stumbled over to a corner of the room. But at least he's still conscious.
Carth went to help the soldier stand, but was waved off.
" 'Elp me go through these 'ere, eh?"
It didn't take them long to find uniforms that fit them both; Territh had to mix and match, but there was, miraculously, someone at the party who was relatively his size.
"An' Yessee? Dis was aaalll planned t' turn out like dis."
"You're a damn liar, Territh."
"Nnnooo, I'm a damn drunkard. 'Dere's a diff'ence 'ere, Carf."