fandomhigh | Galactic Field Trips, Monday

"Good morning, everyone." Lana smiled. "Welcome to our last trip for this term. I hope you've enjoyed getting to see my galaxy." Albeit a carefully curated version. "For our last class, we'll be going to Dantooine. It's an agricultural world that's currently part of the Alliance. It's on the edge of Imperial territory and lies on two separate hyperspace routes, so it's not as out-of-touch as you might think, given its position in the galaxy."

Look, it was the boonies, but it was a pretty nice boonies.

"So, come on through." She waved them into the portal, followed along, and...oh, no. This was not Dantooine!

She turned just in time for the portal to close. "Damn it! Sorry, this is not our planned destination." She pulled out her phone as she looked around. "Welcome to Nar Shaddaa, playground of the Hutts and every criminal in the galaxy. Look, why don't you head into the casino, change a bit of money, and enjoy the slots while I call Portalocity and get us out of here. Just - look, stay away from the tables, don't make a scene no matter what you see, and do not approach anything large and sluglike."

Lana had to make some phone calls.

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"I hope you didn't get anything purple," Atton commented, as he wandered by the lounge.

You could kinda tell the Fandom ones, yeah.

"Or blue," he added. "Actually, come to think of it, I hope you didn't get anything."

Watts spared a glance for the stranger and held up his drink in a mock toast. Not purple or blue, for the record.

"That's... probably not violently toxic to humans?" Atton offered. "I'm giving it a 70-30."

It was a drink he’d ordered before, during a previous excursion, so. Unless he’d been lied to then about ‘safe for human consumption’ and it was the sort of poison that took weeks…

“You do that,” Watts replied. “I don’t bet.” Which was the crux of the issue, really.

"Well, you seem like you're great at parties," Atton said, and made a mental note to keep an eye out to make sure nobody particularly impulsive-looking got near the guy. "Have fun murdering your liver instead, I guess."

No one had ever accused him of decent bedside manner. Seatside manner? Whatever.

Marc noticed the guy talking to Watts and kept an eye on him. Friendly sounding advice or not, this place seemed like it was where you didn't go wrong assuming the worst as a given.

He could be a new friend, Steven pointed out.

"And that's why you don't have the body," Marc said. Yes, he looked like he was talking to his silent reflection. He didn't care if anyone here quickly figured out he was crazy.

Atton looked past the surly guy and squinted. "Okay, who are you, mr. Says Weird Vaguely Homicidal-Sounding Poodoo Out Loud, and why are you giving me a headache?"

There were not supposed to be two people in one general physical area. Ugh.

"You're not the first person I've given a headache to," Marc replied by way of an answer. Not that he knew Atton meant being able to sense him and Steven specifically but hey: Marc had some self awareness. He was a headache giving kind of guy. "Who are you and what do you want with my friend?"

"Your teacher called me in to make sure none of you die in here," Atton drawled. "Nar Shaddaa's kind of famous for the homicide rate. And the smell."

Edited 2023-06-19 14:09 (UTC)

"You noticed that too?" Marc asked. He did relax a little though. The guy knowing Lana meant at least he wasn't some random asshole trying to take advantage of Watts. "Marc Spector."

Edited 2023-06-19 14:16 (UTC)

"Atton Rand," Atton greeted. "Fandom's the only place I've lived longer than I did in this Hutt-hole, so that's why I get to play babysitter."

"My sympathies," Marc said. "There's a lot of reasons I don't teach."

"I'm beginning to be reminded why I used to stick to being a bartender," Atton agreed. He shrugged one shoulder. "At least none of you have done anything particularly stupid so far, so hey. This might turn out to be a vacation."

"Which bar?" Marc asked. Though he suspected he had a good guess if the guy meant Fandom.

Edited 2023-06-19 14:27 (UTC)

"Caritas," Atton said. "I spent a lot of time taping zombies back together." He lifted his chin. "So what's your day job?"

Marc gave a nod of acknowledgement that he would've gotten that one wrong. "Don't have one. Not on the island anyway. My, ah, roommate takes care of that."

Yes, yes, very funny.

Atton snorted. He had a feeling the guy was lying, but considering the sheer amount of lying he did, it'd be hypocritical to point that out. "I need to find me a roommate like that, obviously."

"He's not so bad," Marc said, studiously ignoring the fond look Steven shot in his direction at hearing it. "How about you? What do you do besides favors for Lana?"

"I teach Flight and Flying and bum around the island being handsome and brooding," Atton said, throwing a brief glance past Marc at the alien staring at them across the way. "It's a dirty job, someone has to do it, and other clichés."

"We're feeling confident on handsome?" Marc asked. Not really a dig on the guy's looks, he was just amused how many guys on the island didn't exactly lack self confidence when it came to their appearance.

Self-confidence, carefully curated mask he was actually trying to peel apart but fell into when he was on autopilot, something about potatoes and pronounciations...

"Yeah, I have that one signed and in writing from experts," Atton snarked, "But clever. Really."

"If you do beauty pageants in your spare time, who am I to judge?" Marc replied.

Or really a lot of other shit in his spare time. Marc wasn't a hugely judgey guy.

"Now I get it," Atton replied. "That's why your day job's on the mainland: you're a comedian."

"Not the first person to accuse me of that either," Marc said.

Marc Spector: Headache Comedian.

Atton snorted. He shook his head. "You going to keep an eye on grumpy hat guy here?"

It'd be nice if he didn't have to split his attention between ten people.

Re: Class activity

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