Driver stepped out of the teleporter cabin.
She felt a shiver running down her spine; her left leg trembled under her weight, and she had to lean on the teleporter's wall so as not to lose balance. She let out a quiet, annoyed groan: she would probably never get used to those things, no matter how many times she traveled through them.
She would have much rather used her spaceship to reach the bar, but one of its engines had been heavily damaged during the last mission, and she wasn't going to put it under any more stress before it could be repaired: she could in no way afford another one at the moment, and, in case it stopped working away from home, space towie service was incredibly expensive.
Still, she didn't want to miss a chance for a night out either: the aforementioned mission had been exceptionally stressful and long, so she needed -she deserved a night to herself, where she could flush her weariness and thoughts away with a little bit of booze.
She pulled her teleportation key out of the teleporter's lock and put it back in her pants' back pocket. She exhaled, her body now over the teleportation-induced shock, passed through the security laser scanner, and entered the space bar proper.
A human would have normally turned the attention of a bunch of space-traveling aliens, for humans lived in an isolated little galaxy which the vast majority of them had never traveled out of -'the vast majority' meaning, at least to her knowledge, everyone except her- but by this point she was a regular in that bar, and so were almost all the other clients. Even so, she had never held a proper conversation with any of them; only sparse greeting gestures, a "how is it going" every now and then, occasionally their respective professions -case in which she would always say she was a delivery woman, which wasn't entirely untrue. She hardly ever got to the point of sharing names, though, she guessed, it wasn't much of a big deal for someone like her who didn't even use a real name anymore.
She promptly headed to the bar top, weakly nodding at a couple of known faces on her way; she sat on one of the stools and greeted the barman:
"Hello there! How are you?" she politely smiled at him, "Could I please have a pitcher of space light beer?"
The blue, blob-like barman eyed her as his tentacles scrubbed the inside of glass with a dishrag.
"So the usual, miss?" he mumbled in his usual grumpy manner. "Coming right up", he put down the glass with the others and turned to prepare her order.
Her smile didn't falter despite the cold attitude of the barman. She didn't take it personally, as he wasn't really a happy-go-lucky guy with anyone; besides, she too occasionally herself found herself to be distrustful or even repulsed, frankly, in front of a new alien species. And in the dangerous depth of space, being distrustful was often a life-saving attribute. It even had a certain charm to it. And she appreciated how he still maintained some semblance of polite professionalism by calling her 'miss'; she liked to think it meant he'd secretly grown attached to her, as a client.
"A light space beer for the miss" the barman announced as he placed the pitcher in front of her.
Space bar… space bar… aliens really have no imagination when it comes to names.
"Thank you very much" she smiled at him once again; he murmured a barely-intelligible 'You're welcome', and turned back around to scrub his glasses.
Driver picked the pitcher up by the handle and slowly started sipping on her beer; as she drank, she turned around to look at the rest of the clientele: most of them were sitting alone at their tables, backs bent and eyes steadily focused on their drinks as if they were deliberately trying to avoid each other's gazes. Three of them were playing some kind of card game -excuse you, space card game-, another two were in the opposite corner playing space billiards. A low, lazy tune was coming from the speakers in the ceiling's corners to complete this gloomy picture.
She usually liked the calmness of the bar, but tonight's air was just straight up depressing, and even worse, boring. She turned back again and kept on drinking her beer.
Damn, it's like they all just got back from a funeral or something. Maybe I should have just stayed home and spent some time with Cat. If I had any booze at home I would have probably done that, too.
As she was lost in her thoughts, someone opened and closed the bar's main door behind themselves; her brain barely registered it.
They approached the top bar, but again, she hardly noticed the faint sound of their tiny boots stepping on the floor.
Only when they jumped and sat two stools to her right did she actually notice the newly arrived client; she didn't turn to look at their face out of politeness -aliens were very sensitive and defensive about foreign gazes in this part of the universe. She did take note of two things, though: their small stature, and their shiny black boots.
I gotta ask where they got those from, she thought, discreetly eyeing them without turning her face.
The stranger spoke in a slow, raspy and yet somewhat high-pitched voice to the barman, who had just turned to them:
"Bar-drone, serve me a cold schmoothy".
The commanding, weirdly-phrased order made her ears perk up; she also took note, that that stranger was probably male, though his voice leaned more to the ambiguous, androgynous side, as many alien voices did.
The barman looked him up and down, then stated in his half-monotone, half-brash tone:
"Sorry, we don't serve children here. Where are your parents?"
The stranger jumped and stood up on the stool with unexpectedly lightning-quick speed, so that his eyes were now at the same level as the barman's.
"CCCHIIILD?! WHO ARE YOU CALLING A CHILD?!" he shouted, arching his back backwards and dramatically pointing his finger at the barman.
His shouting broke the usual near-silence of the bar and all the clients turned their eyes to him; Driver's looked at him with the most curiosity.
She had never seen an alien of his species: he had green, smooth skin, two antennae on the top of his head instead of hair, no nose, and two huge ruby eyes, which were now furiously pointed at the barman.
They look like jewels, she absentmindedly thought.
"I am no child, and I will have none of your insolence, you filthy drink-serving filth-drone!" he continued, accompanying each insult with a waving of his pointed finger.
"Now do your job and serve – me – that – SCHMOOTHY!" he additionally emphasized that last part by rhythmically stomping his right foot on the stool.
Then, he locked his angry eyes even more firmly, jaws clenched and gritted teeth exposed, a low growl erupting from the back of his throat.
The barman, who had been looking at him completely unphased and unresponsive during the entirety of his wrathful outburst, calmly, quietly replied:
"My apologies, sir. I probably phrased it wrong. What I meant is, we don't serve kids' drinks here. And we don't serve off-menu" he clarified, not bothering at all to hide a hint of hostility in his tone.
The stranger's pose somewhat loosened, but his eyes actually narrowed even more, probably picking up on the barman's fake polite act.
Ultimately though, he gave up on arguing with the bartender:
"FFFfffine. Give me one of your me–nus, then" he bitterly spat, crossing his arms on his chest.
The barman grabbed a menu from under the counter and handed it over to him, who aggressively took it with a swift sweep of his arm.
"Though I highly doubt I'll find anything remotely drinkable on this dirty piece of paper!" the stranger hissed, as if continuing his previous statement, "Don't expect me to ever come back to this filthy bar of yours, too!"
"What a loss" the barman commented with the most evident sarcasm as the stranger walked to an empty couch on the left side of the local.
Contrary to the rest of the clients, who were now back to their previous activities as if nothing had ever happened, Driver was brimming with interest and curiosity, having quietly observed the whole discussion from her stool, still sipping on her beer, like she was sitting in the front seat of a theater.
Careful not to be heard by the stranger, she turned to the barman and quietly asked:
"Excuse me, what species is that fellow exactly?"
The barman, who had gotten back to scrubbing his glasses, replied:
"That's an Irken, miss. They're some real bad crowd. I was really hoping he would take the hint and just leave, to be honest" he added more quietly.
"What kind of bad crowd?" she asked. Apparently, the barman's dislike for this Irken race was so great it had caused him to forget the one against her.
"The pillaging, murdering, planet-sweeping kind of bad crowd" he explained, a dark expression on his face. "Yet, for many aspects they resemble children a lot. 'Better not getting involved with them. At least this one seems to be traveling alone. Strangely. And hopefully, after tonight I won't have to see another one of them in my bar ever again" he concluded harshly.
Driver took a look at the Irken sitting on the couch: his short legs were hanging in the air, as they were too short to touch the floor; his big, bug-like ruby eyes were attentively searching the menu; his antennae were resting behind his head, twitching from time to time.
That cute little guy is a mass-murderer?, she wondered incredulously. But thinking back to the fiery rage with which he had responded to the barman's insult, it didn't look that implausible.
Driver bit her lips. Would it be that risky to approach him in any way? Her experience with alien creatures advised her so, but something about him was incredibly alluring to her. Maybe it was the contrasting, albeit scarce information about him: he looked small and cute, but had a fiery temperament, and if the barman were to be believed, his race consisted of murderous, vicious savages.
And yet, especially now that he was calmer, he appeared so lonely and sad, his eyes weary and tired.
She had come to the bar seeking refuge from the usual, chaotic adventures that her job entailed, but now that she looked at that mysterious Irken stranger, she felt she wouldn't mind risking getting into another one. Plus, he didn't seem to be armed at all (not heavily at least). She just had to be careful and keep a hand on the ray-gun hidden under her jacket.
She turned to the barman again:
"Say, you don't serve off the menu, but do you do table service?"
Her request seemed to break the spell that had made the barman briefly act so exceptionally friendly to her, as he looked at her like she had just insulted his mother and drowned his first-born child. And maybe even made out with his wife. All at the same time.
"… yes. Yes I do" he finally muttered, voice full of pain and regret.
"Well, then. I think I'll soon be making use of your… table services" she beamed, and with a graceful twirl she jumped off her stool, beer in hand, and made her way to the couch the Irken was sitting on.
He was so focused on reading the menu still, that he didn't notice her approach at all, much like she hadn't noticed his earlier. She stood next to the small table in front of the couch, and trying to sound and look as confident as possible, she greeted him:
"Hello. May I sit here?", and she pointed at the empty spot to his right.
The Irken quickly turned his head up to face her and immediately his eyes widened in stupor. His mouth slowly opened as if to try and say something, but nothing came out of it, remaining half-open.
She was unsure of the reason behind his reaction, but she continued unperturbed:
"I'll take that as a yes, thank you" she said, and she quickly slipped onto the couch, putting her now half-empty pitcher on the table.
"So, have you found anything that interests you?"
He was still looking at her, in complete disbelief. It was starting to make her nervous, and her mind started to race: maybe he just wasn't used to female attention? Well, that would have been really endearing. Or maybe he thought she looked extremely pretty? But, what if he actually thought she was extremely ugly? He didn't seem disgusted though, just shocked…
"I, uh… what?" he quietly stammered; his confused expression was so adorable, it made her heart skip a beat.
"You know. The drinks. Have you made your pick?" she explained as she tapped on the menu he was holding.
His eyes followed her hand; then went back to her face as she drew her hand back.
"Are you… a human?" he asked, confusion and disbelief palpable in his tone.
Now it was Driver's turn to be surprised and confused: he was the first alien so far who had ever recognized her species in the almost ten years that she'd spent in space.
He knows what a human is? How?, she wondered, her curiosity now twice as intense as before.
Still, she tried not to betray her feelings and play it cool:
"Hell yeah I am. What about it?" she smirked.
"What… How did you get here?" he asked back.
"Via teleporter" she replied, and pointed at the teleportation cabins on the opposite side of the room.
"Humans have teleporters?" he said, his body now fully turned to her; his hands were grasping the menu so tightly, the paper was being crumpled under his fingers, but he didn't seem to be aware of it.
"Well, not really, but I do" she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "How do you know what humans are? We- "
"So you escaped from Earth on a teleporter?!" he interrupted her; he suddenly stood up, and got uncomfortably close to her face: "Where is it located?! You need to give me its coordinates! Speak, Earth-woman!" he shouted.
What the HELL is his deal?
Hand on her concealed gun, she tried to keep her voice calm and replied:
"I used the teleporter to get here from my house. I didn't leave Earth on a teleporter. I used a spaceship. I am pretty sure that there are no teleporters on Earth. Sorry if that was confusing".
All that inquisitive enthusiasm of his seemed to steeply drop in one moment.
"Oh..." he let out, evidently disappointed.
Then, all of a sudden, his energy seemed to swing right back in, though not quite as high as before:
"But! But! Where did you get this spaceship in the first place? And how did you manage to resist the Earth's gravitational pull?!"
"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you whom I got the spaceship from. What I can tell you is that they were not human and no human knows about it. As for your second question, any standard non-earthen spaceship is able to breach the Earth's atmosphere with no excessive strain" she calmly explained.
The Irken fell back on the couch, even more gloomy-looking than before. He quite literally looked like a deflated balloon.
Driver sighed in relief. He seemed to have calmed down, and probably wasn't gonna force her to use her very illegal ray-gun after all. Still, how did he know about humans and the Earth? Why was he even so interested in them?
"When exactly did you leave Earth?" he asked her, his corrugated expression emptily pointed at the table in front of him.
"I don't know exactly. Maybe something like seven or eight Earth years ago?"
He nodded thoughtfully; he didn't seem to want to continue this conversation, so despite her curiosity, she didn't press him any further. Was this whole Earth thing -whatever 'thing' might have exactly meant- the main reason his mood was so down?
If that's the case, who better than an Earthling to cheer him up?, she reasoned. Maybe this way, she would have found what the connection between this Irken and her home planet was!
And besides, this guy is way too cute to be so sad.
With this new objective in mind, Driver turned back to her usual happy and kind demeanor, and spoke with a comforting voice:
"You know what? You really look like you need a drink. Give me here" she easily grabbed the menu from his hands, which he seemed to have forgotten to be holding.
"There must be something here that you like" she said as she read through it. " I don't think they've got anything like a schmoothy though…"
The Irken waved a dismissive hand at her.
"Nah, I can't drink any of that putrid stuff anyway" he said in a boring voice.
"Really? Like, there's really nothing that you like here?"
"They all have alcohol in them" he pouted, crossing his arms on his chest.
"I must admit, you didn't really strike me as a straight-edge type of guy" she noted.
He side-eyed her, and explained to her, in a rather conceited tone:
"Invaders don't stoop so low as to drink alcohol".
'Invader'? This guy was a planet-invader by profession?
Thrilling.
"Oh, come on. What's a little bit of ethanol while you're off duty? You know, I-", she looked around the room, "-don't see any of your superiors here. And if there's one thing I am not, is a snitch" she turned back to him and winked, a complicit smirk on her face.
"I mean, you didn't come here to look at a menu and not drink anything, did you?"
"I-I, uhm..." the Irken looked down at his fiddling fingers in an unsure, shy gesture.
"I just wanted something sweet to drink, is all" he mumbled.
Driver felt her cheeks flare up, along with a strong desire to hug and squeeze the little alien in her arms.
Oh my God. This guy is the epitome of cuteness.
"Why don't you try a sip of my beer first?" she proposed, and she gently nudged the pitcher towards him. "It's not exactly sweet, but it's very light. Since you came all the way down here, so why not make it the least bit worth it with a new experience?"
He looked between her and the drink, unsure still. It was like some kind of battle was going on inside his head, one part of his mind curious to taste the beverage and the other still firm in its resolve not to. After a while, he cautiously leaned over the glass and smelled the content.
So he does have a nose… somewhere there.
"Uhm... won't I... get drunk, if I drink it?" he asked, his eyes still pointed at the glass, as if diverting his attention would have given the liquid the chance to jump out and assault him.
"Aw, don't worry" she reassured him in an understanding voice, "A little sip won't do anything. You won't even feel it".
The Irken sighed. He turned to her, and finally said:
"Alright, fine. But just ONE sip".
With his left hand he poked on a plate on the metal object on his back; she had paid no real attention to it: she had unconsciously assumed it had to be some kind of alien object-carrier. Her guess seemed to be correct, as the plate rose and he drew a straw out his… metal backpack.
He was about to dip the straw into the drink, but right before its tip actually touched the liquid's surface, he turned to her again and asked:
"Space beer, right?"
"Uh- what?"
"This is a space beer, not a filthy human-dirt beer, right?"
"Yes, of course" she nodded.
Damn, I've never seen anyone being so picky about a free drink. And what about the straw? Does he think I'm contagious or something?, she mentally commented.
Still, she watched him sink the straw's end in the beverage with great anticipation, hoping with all her heart that he'd like that first taste of alcohol.
The Irken tentatively sucked at the straw, and got a bit of the beer inside his mouth. He savored it. Then, he finally swallowed it.
He said nothing for a few seconds, looking impassible and somewhat thoughtful in front of himself. That weird silence made her nervous; she wondered if maybe he was so disgusted, he wasn't capable of even uttering a word.
"...So? How was it?" she asked, still trying to maintain her calm facade.
"It's not… as bad as I thought it would be" he finally muttered. "In fact… I kind of almost like it" he expressed this last admission with what looked like a huge strain.
It was like he had just now broken some kind of dogmatic belief he had held his entire life. He probably had, and all thanks to her. Driver felt a surge of pride at that thought.
Loaded with newfound energy, she continued:
"You know, they probably have things you'll like even more here. I get that you like a sweet taste, yes? There are plenty of sweet drinks, you know?"
"… I suppose" he tentatively agreed.
"Well, then, why don't you try some kind of bubbly wine? This type has a fruity aroma to it, much like a schmoothy" she tapped on a wine's name written on the menu, "Yeah, it seems like something you would like. You know what, don't worry about the money, this one's on me"
"What? No, wait- " before he could finish, she stood up and got the attention of the barman by waving her hand:
"Barman? Could you please bring us a bottle of Space Fuzzy Red Wine number 45X and two glasses?"
Assured that he had got the order (his suffering, glaring expression was very telling), she sat back and kindly smiled at the now much confused Irken.
"... What's your actual deal, human? Who are you really? Why are you doing this for me?" he asked, his face and voice full of suspicion.
"Heh. Try and guess" she suavely chuckled.
"... to... ambush me?" he tried.
"Hah! What?!" she couldn't help but scoff at his insinuation. This guy was a very anxious type, wasn't he? And very clueless about flirting, too...
"I'm afraid not" she shook her head. "I mean... unless you got something valuable on you" she then quietly added with a mischievous grin.
The Irken blinked at her, his confused, suspicious frown deepening.
"That's a joke. This is just the bar I usually go to in my free time" she explained.
"Ah. Well, that doesn't explain why you came and talked to me. Or why you wanna give me alco-hol to drink" he retorted, a bit of a harsh edge to his voice.
He probably wasn't in the mood for jokes. Not yet, anyway. Better go on and be blunt...
"Okay, look" she took a long gulp of her beer, emptying the glass, exploiting that time to think of a good, articulated answer.
Once the beer was finished, she put down the pitcher and resumed:
"You see, I had just returned from a rather long mission. I was hoping a nice booze-up would get me back in shape, but this place's boring-ness was wearing me out more than the mission itself. Until you came in" she turned her body to him, eyes full of enthusiastic curiosity. "You look so... interesting and mysterious to me. I can't pinpoint why, I just feel a sort of pull towards you- if you, uhm... know what I mean" she suggestively wiggled her eyebrows.
The Irken stared at her in an utterly perplexed expression.
"No" he said, "no, I really don't".
Before he could express himself further, the barman came up to them and placed the bottle of wine and the two glasses on the table.
"There you go" he begrudgingly murmured. Then, he turned around and went back to the top bar as swiftly as he came.
The Irken glared at him as he slithered away from them and whispered something about him under his breath. Driver couldn't really hear what he said, but she felt like she agreed.
"Yeah, he's rather rude. Never mind him, he's like that to everyone" she reassured him with a nod of her head.
She opened the bottle and poured the wine into the two glasses.
"Have a taste!" she encouraged him with a big smile.
Once again, he looked at the glass with an unsure expression.
Then, he turned back to her and said:
"You know, I really should be going", and he placed his hands on the couch like he was about to jump off it.
"What? But I even paid for it!" she protested.
"Actually, you still haven't paid. And I never asked you to do that"
"But I will! Oh, please, stay here!" she begged him.
She reached to caress his arm, but he instantly jerked away from her. Afraid she would lose him for good, Driver just dived in taking her last chance, and explained:
"Look, you really look like you've got something... unpleasant going on for you. I don't expect you to tell me what it is- I don't necessarily even want you to! I just want, in my small way, to make you feel better, if just for tonight!" she spoke with genuine concern, hands joined in a pleading gesture.
His antennae perked up in interest, his curious eyes now locked into hers. Though he didn't look like he wanted to leave anymore, he still seemed pretty dubious about her actual intentions.
"But… why?" he asked.
"I already told you!" she smiled hopefully, "You intrigue me".
Still as confused as ever, he raised a hand to his chin, seemingly pondering on her words. His antennae were swinging left and right, independently from each other, as if his processing brain was causing them to mechanically move. His pretty eyes were staring her down, glimmering with inquisitive, curious intelligence.
His focused gaze made her blush. God, he looks so cute.
Like she did with the pitcher, she placed one of the glasses full of wine directly in front of him.
"Come on, just take one sip".