uncertain_dume | Office Hours, Office #3, Friday

Okay, so Kanan had been a bit lax when it came to holding his office hours, this term. In his defense, he'd been a cat for much of it so far. And for the rest... eh. He hadn't cared enough to bother. He was still contemplating just taking off for somewhere else, after all. That galaxy they kept hitting, the one with the Krogans (and their liquor), seemed familiar in a distant sort of way, a mix of humans and a host of other alien people that... well... he didn't recognize, but it still seemed more like home than here.

Shame he'd spent all of last night drinking the ryncol (bad idea) instead of plotting his escape to a reality that at least sort of made sense. And shame they were apparently parked on some place with entirely too much cheese now. Kanan had been hosting a hangover all through class that morning, and when it came time to leave... it was bright out. Not great for a headache. And everything stank of cheese. And Kanan liked cheese, but the thought of going out there made him want to curl up and die a little, so he'd retreated to his office, instead. Preferably to wait out the hangover.

How that turned into meditating as the morning progressed was anybody's best guess. Master Kenobi was rubbing off on him, maybe. And nobody needed to know that he wasn't just sitting with his eyes closed. Letting his consciousness drift and explore however the Force nudged it was...

It was okay. It beat paying attention to the hangover and the sun and the cheese, anyway.

[OOC: Open office, why not!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I could probably manage a tiny violin if it would help," Bob offered. After all, the sound didn't have to match the visual part.

"Is that an Earth thing?" Kanan glanced at Bob, and then grudgingly started to pull himself to his feet. "I'm guessing that's an Earth thing. But I'm sure I would've been properly annoyed and/or scandalized if I knew what it was."

"Musical instrument, very poignant," Bob explained. "Size proportionate to the amount of actual sympathy it's played with."

"Ah, so it was a sarcastic Earth thing," Kanan decided, nodding once and reaching for his water. "Good to know. I'll remember that one."

"You do that. Plenty more where it came from," Bob said.

"You're far too kind, Bob." Kanan took a long drink, and then, setting the bottle down, he sat on the top of his desk instead of returning to the floor. "A guy could almost get the impression you care, you know."

There, look, Kanan could also employ sarcasm!

"There's caring, then there's letting you deal with the consequences of your own actions." Bob absolutely cared, but Kanan had done this to himself, after all.

Kanan gave a wry huff of a laugh.

"I guess I deserved that," he admitted. "Fortunately, we're free from the siren call of the ryncol, again."

Force help him if they ever found themselves on another planet in that galaxy, though.

"I don't think there are any cheese-based alcohols, so you're down to only the bars in town, then," Bob said. If that wasn't enough to get drunk on...

"Which I might steer clear of for a while," Kanan noted. "... After that drinking games class tonight. But that's social drinking. Totally different creature."

Sure, he'd been drinking in public with the ryncol both times, too, but that was less about the company and more about getting completely blasted.

"It'll still get you drunk," Bob pointed out. In case there was any doubt.

"Sure," Kanan agreed, "but socially drunk. And the hangovers from the local alcohols aren't half as bad as that Krogan stuff, anyway. I really don't think human anatomy was taken into consideration when they came up with ryncol."

Yeah, that was his problem, sure thing.

"They're not human, so why would they?" Bob pointed out.

"Exactly," Kanan replied, grinning. "I just meant that some races do try to take cross-compatibility in mind when they're in a place that gets other species coming through. Better for marketing. The Krogans aren't merchants, they're warriors. That shows in their wares, no doubt about that."

This was what Kanan had picked up about them based on their alcohol. That probably said volumes about how often he drank, how much he thought about the people around him, or both.

It said good things, mostly. The puking said more about the rest.

"Given what I saw of their environment, it's not surprising," Bob said.

"Some of the creatures they had running around out there were pretty intense," Kanan agreed, shrugging his shoulders. "I never ran into one of those thresher maw things they kept mentioning, but I've met bigger and meaner than most of the rest of them. Hell, I've smuggled meaner before."

He didn't mind, either. He liked animals.

"Intentionally?" Bob asked. Why on earth (or any other planet) would you do that, Kanan?

"For money," Kanan confirmed with a shrug. "I still have to eat. It takes credits for that. And to fuel the ship, and then there's maintenance..."

Basically, living was expensive, no matter where you went.

"Hope you got danger pay," Bob said. Because honestly.

"You get good enough at what you do, you get to name your price," Kanan replied, grinning. Shamelessly so. "I'm not bad at what I do. Danger pay isn't a concern."

A beat.

"That said, I fly a freighter these days. Or I would, if I wasn't stuck here. Set wage, guaranteed work. It'd be a great gig if I hadn't up and vanished on them for the past couple of months."

"Sounds boring," Bob opined.

"They call us suicide flyers. We transport explosives."

Less boring?

"Highly volatile ones."

"Still sounds boring unless it blows up," Bob said with a shrug. "Of course, then you'd have a different problem. Or not."

"Then I'd just be mist in space," Kanan replied, shrugging. "The trade-off is that I get to pilot a ship. In space. With a daily view of the sunrise over Cynda. It's hard to be bored in space."

A pause.

"Actual space, not the weird planets the island keeps stopping off at."

"More stars, less cheese?" Bob guessed.

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