Lack of Plans
Lack of Plans
Summary: Drey and Lysander talk about the future. Or lack thereof.
Date: 115 ACH
Related Logs: None

Panther Sports Bar Carina - Bar

This bar is a place for the customers to relax and enjoy not only the drinks and food served, but also some major sporting events known to the colonies. The large, central bar is stocked with liquor of multiple kinds from every colony. The surrounding area has tall leather-topped stools and high tables. The walls are lined with low booths and on every surface possible is sports memrobilia.

Signed posters of Franklin Grofield, Vinnie Sinclair, Samuel Anders, and other sports figures are competing for space with Pyramid balls, catchers mitts, skis, bats, all with a signature on them and all affixed to the walls in some fashion. The bar also features large vapor Crystal screens that can show live images of sporting events over the Colonial Sports Network, or when the CSN isn't broadcasting anything worthwhile, there is a library of sporting events from Boxing to Pyramid.

Drey is at the bar because it's the most direct route to another drink if and when she requires one. But for now the woman is holding an empty glass and staring at the surface of the counter before her. Her long hair is pulled back but not very neat, strands coming out around her face.

Stepping in from the outside, Lysander looks around for a few moments before he makes his way over in the direction of the counter, shaking his head a little as he ends up not far from Drey's position.

Drey turns her head at the new movement nearby and her gaze fixes on Calvin for several moments. She hasn't had too much judging by the alertness in her eyes. "Looking for someone to kick your ass?" she asks in a way that's been hers since long before the attack. It's lacking a certain venom, though, even though it's not exactly friendly either.

Lysander is unable to hold back a half-smile as he hears that, "What? You think you could manage to do something like that? Without an army?" Sounding quite amused, as he turns back towards the bar, for a few moments.

"Of course I do," Drey responds without a pause of hesitation. "And if you buy me another drink, I might even consider holding back when it comes to that," she adds the last as she lifts her glass up in a cheers sort of fashion.

"Sounds like someone's been having strange dreams lately," Lysander remarks, a bit lightly. "What kind of drug did you use to think you might be able to kick my ass, hmm?" He then shrugs, "But as for that drink, why not?" Gesturing to the bartender to refill the woman's glass, before ordering himself something to drink.

"I don't dream, Calvin," Drey says, looking at the man she would have at one point considered an enemy of sorts. "And if I had any drugs of note, I sure as hell wouldn't be divulging to a frakwit like you," she offers a smile, unnecessarily sweet, and lifts her refreshed drink to him in thanks.

Getting himself his own drink, Lysander shakes his head a little at Drey's words, "Such nice words, little miss Audrey," he remarks, a bit lightly.

Drey rolls her eyes and takes a drink. It seems like she might even let her silence persist but she does speak after a few moments. "So what are your plans?" She leaves the question vague whether on purpose or not.

Lysander shrugs a little bit, "Who knows?" he replies, shaking his head. Taking another sip from his drink, as he looks back to the woman again.

"That's not a very good answer," Drey scolds, watching the bartender as they take care of other sorry souls looking for some relief from their own lack of worthwhile plans. "But I can't say it's very surprising coming from you."

"Oh, you got a better plan, then?" Shaking his head, Lysander shrugs a bit, "I guess the main one would be survival, actually."

Drey shrugs one thin shoulder and takes a drink, considering it before responding. "Not really. I thought I did. Just surviving, though… Is that good enough for you?"

Lysander shakes his head for a few moments, "Not in the long run, no," he replies. "But for now, sure."

Drey looks at the man, her expression mostly blank but her eyes search for something more. After a moment her jaw clenches and her eyes shift back to the bartender as they make their rounds. "More power to you, then, I guess."

"In the long run, I guess we need to do whatever we can to avoid human civilization fall down and disintegrate." Lysander sips his drink again, before he shrugs, "No idea how, at the present, though."

"Oh, is that all?" Drey laughs like she's been needing a good one for awhile. "Don't kid yourself, man. We don't have frak-all to do with that." She looks at him again, smiling now, "Or are you the sort that's perfectly content to sit around on your ass and make babies? I say, 'Thanks, but no thanks.'"

Lysander shakes his head a little bit, "Probably need to be in a difference position than sitting on our asses to do that," he replies, before he shakes his head a bit further. "Perhaps our work would be to keep the cultural side of it going…"

"Perhaps," Drey says, actually ignoring his smart ass response. There's a first for everything. She doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the prospect of 'their work' but she doesn't say anything else about it. She lifts her glass to finish off the rest of her drink, then rises to her feet. "Thanks for the booze," and then she turns to walk away.

"You're welcome," Lysander offers, watching her leave. Taking another sip from his drink, before turning back towards the bar.

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