#I will admit having the first date prompt and 'minor character death' and 'descriptions of violence' is absurd

[ray-gt]

A Night at the Quasar Cafe [gtgotcha4gaza]

For: @biggnansmol, @gtgotcha4gaza Prompt: First Date (giant/human) Summary: Sabine Ducote is professionally curious, or at least that's how she likes to describe her work. Part private eye, part bounty hunter, she makes a living dealing in other people's business. But when a favour sends her to a sketchy out-of-quadrant "Boundary Bar" to meet with an informant four times her size, Sabine realises just how dangerous curiosity can be.

CW: side character death, descriptions of minor violence

[ao3]

The Informant

Sabine’s ship communicator flashed a bright red and she didn’t know whether to smile or groan when she saw the ID. She decided on both. She ignored it for a while, focussing on navigating to the jump point, hoping the call would die.

On the back of her neck, the hairs pricked.

Let him wait

But when it began bipping incessantly - angry at being ignored, like a toddler pulling at her pant leg - she finally answered.

“With all this cold calling, Jay, I’m beginning to think you’re sweet on me.”

Jay’s voice erupted with something between a cough, a bark, and a laugh. Sabine could imagine the volcanic ash pouring from his thick, scarred lips, and between his black mandibles, as he sat in his office, looking over the bright lights of Blue Marine, the casino empire he built from nothing to cover an entire moon.

No doubt, there was a Nethulyan cigar between his pincers - Sabine could almost smell the smoke through her ship’s speakers.

“Ah, Saba,” He said with a wheeze. “You know me, can’t be tied down. But if I were to go for one of you gross, fleshy humans, you’re first on my list.”

“Every girl’s dream. Though really, Jay, being first hasn’t exactly done me any favours.”

“The Irixes still on your tail?”

She couldn’t help but tense her fists around the ship controls. She fought every instinct in her begging to turn around, to check no one was sneaking up on her. Rationally, she knew it was impossible for the Irixes to be on her ship, but it didn’t stop the slow wave of goosebumps washing over her skin.

“Yeah, yours isn’t the only list I’m top of.” She muttered, reworking her route to accomodate an approaching comet. “Hugo got life.”

“I heard. Took every lawyer within 20 systems to stop him getting a sunset. Well, that’s the business, ain’t it?” She heard Jay’s mandible’s click together over the line - his equivalent of a mother’s disappointed tut. “Lotta money in the Go’oran trade, but it’s a risky market and the competition’s killer.” This earned another laboured laugh, chuffed at his own joke. “Hugo’s top dog. They’ll be lost without him for a while.”

“And they’re channeling all that loss into finding my arse and roasting it on a spit.”

“Come on, Saba. That’s not their style. They’d much rather spaghettify you in a black hole.”

“Which is why I’m getting as far away from Keridian as I can.”

“This is what happens when you take jobs with the authorities. No protection, no thank you - just a lowballed cheque and lot of enemies. Never met anyone more crooked than a judge, I’ll tell you that much for free.”

“About the only thing you’d do for free.”

“I have something you might like.” His voice peaked in a tease, like a used ship salesmen slapping a claw on a vessel that wouldn’t even reach orbit.

“I’m lying low.”

She knew there was no point hinting with him. It wasn’t that he was daft. He’d pick up a hint, but he’d prefer to crush it between his pretty orange pincers than take it seriously.

“I know, but I’ve always said the best way to get over an old job is to pick up a new one.”

“We’re talking about one of the biggest crime families in the galaxy, Jay, not one of your exes.”

“Eh,” He offered in response, taking a long drag of the cigar. She knew he was rolling his head on his neck, unconvinced. “You want a job.”

“I want quiet.”

“Quiet’s boring. You want something that makes you curious.”

“Isn’t that what kills the cat?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Earth thing.”

“Ah.”

Her navigator flashed, warning her she was approaching the jump point.

“Look, Jay, I’m about to make a jump and I’m not calling you back.”

Jay clicked his mandibles again and voice became unusually sober.

“I need you to take this job, Saba. I don’t trust anyone else. Consider it the Favour.”

Sabine ground her teeth together and veered her ship off-course, pulling out of the high-trafficked bottleneck leading up to the jump point.

Jay wasn’t a good person but, really, neither was she. He was one of her first clients when she entered the trade and they quickly formed a profitable partnership. Sabine was good at getting information and Jay was good at using it. It wasn’t a question of morality - they’d both happily take money from the sinners and the saints - but there was an unspoken honour code to these things. Once you commit to a job, you finish it. And a favour is always repaid.

She put the ship into an idle orbit around a nearby moon and stood up. Pacing, she took groups of her braids and begun weaving them together into one large plait. She couldn’t speak. It was like she’d been caught snitching by the Moth-Ean cartel and had her jaw sealed shut.

“You still there?”

Sabine rubbed her eyebrows.

“I can’t believe you’re calling in the Favour. With the Irixes sending word to every contact in the Quadrant. I’d be surprised if my face wasn’t slapped on every Keridian bounty board available.”

“Stop acting like this is your first time in hot water. You want safe, Saba? I could’ve given you a job working tables at Blue Marine. The Irixes are no worse than the Tooras, or the Solaris Siblings, the Li Party, or any of the other targets you’ve had.”

Sabine sighed and shook her arms in an effort to rid them of the tickling nerves shivering within. He was right. This wasn’t the first time people had tried to intimidate her and stop her from working - if they killed her or chased her off, that’d be a win for them. She had to keep going like they didn’t scare the living shit out of her.

But, there were very few people as deadly as Hugo Irix. It’d taken more time, resources, and personal sacrifice than she’d like to admit to become a trusted member of his circle, learn the key nodes of the Irixes Go’oran trade network, and systematically turn them in with enough evidence to get Hugo a life sentence in maximum security.

The look she’d shared with him as she stepped up to testify….

“What’s the job?”

“There’s my Saba! I was afraid I’d lost her. Don’t worry, compared to Hugo, this is child’s play.”

Sabine doubted that. Knowing Jay, he wouldn’t use the Favour on something simple. He had a better eye for value than that. She didn’t interrupt him though and he kept going.

“And it’s far enough away from Keridian that the Irixes won’t follow you. They have very little presence.”

“Out of Quadrant?”

“Boundary. Have you ever been to the Quasar Cafe?”

***

Sabine approached the Reeka woman from across the adjusted bar, weaving past other mixed size gatherings. As she passed, she heard snippets of conversations, locking any interesting details away in case they became relevant later.

Mostly, the folk who occupied the mixed size bars wanted to keep their business to themselves. It wasn’t illegal, per se, to mix with other species of such varying sizes, but it definitely wasn’t the norm. The hushed chatter of business deals or awkward flirting floated around her like the gentle thrum of a ship engine.

There was the shabby business woman whose eyes never left her cradled glass as a large, brick wall of a Hexigal slid a black bag across the table with his pinky. It would take her both arms to lift it. As it was nudged, the bag squirmed but made no sound.

“As promised.” Grumbled the Hexigal. The woman neither moved nor spoke.

Then there was the over-confident human, teething a martini olive as the reptilian skin of the large Olura (nearly double his height) opposite him shifted from a deep blue to a brilliant chartreuse. A blush if Sabine could hazard a guess. Or, at least, close enough.

Next to the Reeka, a Zidirin (half Sabine’s height) and a Vojuk (5 times and then some) spoke in low tones over a game of mahjong. Seeing the familiar Earth game in a Boundary Bar half a galaxy away almost made her do a double-take. How did it get there? Where’d they learn it?

Despite the sea of curiosities that flooded the bar, the Reeka woman stood out, and not just because she was four times Sabine’s height. Reekas were a colourful and extravagant species. Jaunty, gaudy, vivacious. It was said Reeka weddings often ended in funerals when someone inevitably laughed, drunk, or danced themselves to death.

Sabine had never met one before. The few she’d seen were only in passing as they rarely ventured outside their territory. Her skin was a pale green and her hair a vibrant candyfloss pink. And despite the attention she garnered simply by existing, she was nervous.

Coy.

Her eyes, like polished peridot, kept glancing around - aware of everyone, focussing on none. Her long, slender fingers knotted themselves in the bright orange fabric of her skirt. She’d clearly come straight from work. The clash of orange and red fabric was harsh, even for the Cafe, and reminded Sabine of the uniforms diner waitresses used to wear in the 1950s.

She looked like a fresh hunt, unsure of the cage. Trusting neither the feeding hand, nor the whip. The patter of rain and the rattle of chains were, to her, equally menacing.

Sabine had met with a lot of informants before - blabber mouths who didn’t know the meaning of ‘relevant’ and the tight-lipped types who’d rather have their teeth pulled than give anything up. The opportunists, cowards, good Samaritans.

The ‘What’s in it for me's…

The ‘Maybe if I’d’s…

The ‘You didn’t hear it from me’s…

But for the most part, they looked like this. Baby giraffes on gangly legs, wide-eyed, wondering how everyone else can walk around normally when the ground was shifting beneath their feet.

Most people in the galaxy didn’t know how to turn on a stunner, let alone fire it. Most people couldn’t fly an interplanetary ship, let alone interstellar. Most people heard Hugo Irix’s name for the first time when he was arrested. They weren’t as tightly woven into the fabric as Sabine. The weren’t aware of the back rooms, back alleys, backstabbing.

This kind of informant both comforted and saddened her. Could she even remember a time when the universe shocked her with its real face?

She rolled her neck on her shoulders as she approached.

There was one part of this job which was different from the others. Her first Reeka. Her first… well, anyone this large.

In principle, the big folk handled the big folk. The same went for Sabine and her circles. People kept to their business, and that business only mingled in the most extraordinary circumstances.

Well, Jay, She thought. Consider me curious.

“Vivara?”

The Reeka’s head snapped up, both over-prepared for and surprised by the interruption. Though her gaze went too high - too used to meeting her own kind at eye-level. It took her a beat to realise the empty space ahead of her and adjust. She seemed, if only just, surprised by just how far her eyes had to travel before they landed on Sabine.

It didn’t matter that she was expecting a human, or that she was meeting a stranger at a Boundary Bar in the mixed section - she still looked surprised. She didn’t even attempt to hide her shock and fascination. Like her childhood doll had suddenly sprung to life and called her name.

She wasn’t alone. Much to Sabine’s own surprise, her skin began to buzz when their eyes met. While she’d dealt with larger folk - mostly walls of flesh valued for the way their arms resembled tree trunks - she could hardly call them ‘big’ now. Here, in a way that was entirely foreign, was a towering creature, both impressive and lithe. Powerful and delicate. Features refined and precise. She existed at scale that should be considered brutish, but there couldn’t be a word less apt. Under her rounded stare - innocent, fascinated, unsure - Sabine was hyper-aware of herself. To be swallowed whole in one glance left her feeling like she was naked with a cold wind tickling across her skin. An odd sensation to be sure, here at the back of an intimate, humid bar in a forgotten corner of the Galaxy.

She cleared her throat, pushing the feeling away with a shake of her head.

Focus.

“Sorry, I’m late.” She said as she sat opposite the Reeka, adjusting her jacket in a stolen moment to compose herself.

From her pocket, she produced a small, round device. It looked like a standard communicator, mid-range and unremarkable, but had been modded with far more sensitive microphones to record their conversation. She pressed a small, indiscernible button on the side and placed it on the table between them

She wasn’t late. She’d been at the bar since before Vivara arrived, tucked into a corner and watching to see if anyone was tailing her or if she truly was alone. Only when she was satisfied, did Sabine make herself known.

“The IH472A was a nightmare.” She continued. “But you know how the end of the week is.”

The Reeka woman didn’t say anything. Despite their difference in size, she seemed intimidated by Sabine - scattered and frozen like the shards of glass that stared back at you after taking a bat to a mirror. Not that Sabine knew anything about that.

It didn’t bother her, she knew how these things started. Now she was seated and ready to interview, she felt that initial buzz begin to fade to a dull, distant hum.

She met the large peridot eyes again and smiled her best smile, which Jay thought still needed work after all these years.

What the fuck is that, Saba? Are you trying to fuck me or kill me?

It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested mandibles would make her face more appealing.

I know a girl - very talented. She did Charley’s second pair. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything about Charley’s personality.

“I’m Sabine,” She said. “Thanks of meeting with me, Vivara. I know this all must be overwhelming.”

At the mention of her own name, Vivara’s green cheeks deepened in colour. It was as if it shook her from her trance and made her aware of how much she was staring. Her shoulders ever so slightly relaxed back onto her chair and she untwisted her fingers from her skirt to tuck a loose strange of pink hair behind her ear.

“Sorry,” She muttered, her voice lower than her pointed, elfin features suggested. “I’ve never been to a place like this.”

She gestured around her with jagged movements. From her jumpiness, her waitress uniform, and the neat curl of her pink hair, that was hardly a revelation. But she suspected there was more in the comment.

Sabine nodded. “That’s ok. I’ve been to enough Boundary Bars for the two of us.” Liar. “They’re aren’t as scary as they seem. Jay’s people chose the Quasar for your benefit more than anything else.”

She frowned. “Really?”

“Yes. They figured you would want a place where no one would recognise you, but that wouldn’t require you to leave Reeka territory.”

“I appreciate that. Can you imagine if people knew I was going to a Boundary Bar.” Vivara’s laugh was breathy, and the sound of it made Saba’s buzz spike. “I feel like I’m so out of my depth here. But if I went into your Quadrant, I don’t know if there would be anywhere I could even fit through the door. And if I could, where I wouldn’t be gawked at.”

There was a harmony in the way she spoke, a natural fluidity that took her from one word to the next. Sabine could see the version of her that existed prior to her being involved in this mess. Open. Free. Unburdened. She decided not to tell Vivara that even here, in the Quasar Cafe, where Reekas were regulars and mixed meetings were the norm, she still drew the attention of everyone present. Every now and then, the focus of the mahjong players on the neighbouring table was broken by a glance in her direction. She didn’t blame them, even Sabine had been shocked when she saw Vivara first arrive.

But it did make things difficult for Sabine. With everyone so aware of the beautiful Reeka in the room, either consciously or subconsciously, they’d be suspicious of why someone like her would be in a place like this. As she chipped away at the wall of strangerhood between them, Sabine worked through options. What legitimate reason would she have for being here? With her of all people.

“You’d be surprised.” She said. “The galaxy is much more diverse than you might think.”

“Are most people in your Quadrant as… - sorry, there’s no other word - small as you?”

For reasons unexplained, Sabine felt her blood go hot. There was something about that word, small, that brought the difference in size between them back to the forefront. She’d never been described as small before, being above average height for a human woman. She’d been called weak - even short by a few of the taller species - but never small. Small felt all-encompassing. An assessment. A metric of how little space she took up. Small could be dismissed with a flick of the wrist.

It set her jaw.

“You’ve definitely never been over the border have you?”

Vivara’s cheeks deepened again. “Sorry. No. I haven’t. I don’t really know what I’m meant to do here.”

Sabine rolled her head on her shoulders, enjoying the way the space between the vertebrae popped as she did.

“There’s no rush, we can start when and where you’re most comfortable.”

Saba read the files Jay sent through a few times when they arrived. This wasn’t even her first interview on the matter. Before arriving at the Qasar, she’d spoken to a few cursory people. But this was her most important.

Jay’s son, Jayron, had, without his father’s knowing, began dealing with a powerful Reeka crime syndicate, with the intent to establish his own Blue Marine in Reeka territory. However, before Jay could put a stop to it, Jayron disappeared.

His last known location? Back booth of a diner, served by the only waitress on shift - a green-skinned Reeka with bright pink hair.

Which is why they were there, meeting at the Quasar. Jay didn’t want a Reeka investigating, having little knowledge of their networks and who was on whose payroll. And he didn’t trust the authorities, particularly when it came to inter-quadrant cases.

“I don’t really know if I’ll be of any help.” Vivara rambled. “I didn’t even know anything was wrong until your friends contacted me.”

Saba’s lips twitched at the implication she and Jay’s network were just a group of friends. That she was there for any reason other than professional obligation. It was sweet - the kind of naivety she was always so hesitant to tarnish.

If she could be honest, Sabine never really liked Jayron. Where Jay’s over-confident irreverence painted him as a seasoned and savvy businessman, those same traits were brash and childish in his son.

“Let me be the judge of what is and isn’t relevant. All I need from you is what you remember.”

“Ok.” Vivara nodded. Then she frowned. “So, what are you? A bounty hunter? A private eye?”

“Sometimes.” Sabine shrugged. “I like to think myself as professionally curious.“

She paused. Behind Vivara, she noticed another Reeka walk past and sit himself down at a nearby table. He had bright orange skinned and blue hair, and when he glanced in their direction, his eyes were cerulean. They flicked between her and Vivara. There was a squint in his gaze and tension in his shoulders, and his fingers danced on the rim of his glass. He wasn’t, as some might assume on first inspection, here for leisure.

He was here for Vivara.

There you are.

She knew they’d send someone. Nothing like a Boundary Bar to make everyone think they’re more discrete than they actually are. That was the real reason for the Quasar - information. Some from Vivara herself, and the rest from what her presence would tease out, like mice from the walls.

The last thing she wanted was to make Vivara aware of anything that would make her even more nervous. Sabine’s priority was to diffuse suspicion and collect the information she needed without putting Vivara in any further danger.

In this instance, she had the advantage of anonymity. The Reeka networks didn’t know her name or face. They had no reason to suspect this was anything more than two people having a drink together.

Just then, a waitress walked past them and Sabine waved her down. She was another Reeka woman with deep blue skin and black hair. While her clothes were dark, her smile and demeanour were bright.

At her approach, Vivara’s eyes found the floor - as if she were embarrassed that another of her kind would find her in a place like this. Even though, to the waitress, they were the least interesting patrons she’d served that week, let alone that night. She worked the mixed section of a Boundary Bar between different sized territories, while striking, Vivara was far too vanilla to be anything more to this waitress than a passing thought.

“Welcome folks!” The waitress beamed. “Can I get you anything to start?”

Sabine smiled, “Just the house for me. Vivara?”

She looked over at her informant. The floor must have really taken her because it took Sabine repeating her name to get her attention. And even then, she seemed to refuse to meet the waitress’s eyes.

“Ummm, the same, I guess.”

“Easy!” The waitress said, unperturbed. “And how long have you two been together, if you don’t mind me asking?”

That got Vivara’s attention. Her head shot up, her face, neck and chest flushed a deep forest colour. But before she could protest, Sabine interjected.

“Actually, this is our first date.” She made a point of sending a coy look at Vivara. “A mutual friend set us up. And we picked the Quasar because… well, you know.”

Vivara couldn’t have looked more lost if she tried. The poor thing could only stare, embarrassed, as Sabine took charge of the conversation.

The waitress placed a hand on her chest as she cooed. “Of course, aren’t you lucky! I wish I had friends like that. Well,” She said with a knowing smile. “I’ll get your order sorted. Have a good night, girls. Sing out if you need anything.”

When she was well out of sight, Vivara leant across the table, her size more pronounced the closer she got and Sabine found herself leaning back and away despite herself. She could feel Vivara’s breath wash over her.

“Why’d you say that?” Her whisper was harsh and it sent an unfamiliar thrill through Sabine’s veins.

“What?”

“That we’re on a date!”

Sabine shrugged. “It’s always easiest to go with what people believe. Why would I waste the effort trying to conjure a new lie that would barely convince her. You’re so obviously nervous. You’d sweat less if you were trapped in a tin can on Venus - that’s a planet from my system.” She clarified when Vivara frowned. “-You can barely look me in the eye and you’re stammering through every sentence. And that’s normal.” Sabine added softly. “She thinks you’re acting like that because we’re on a date. Let’s roll with it. We’re on a date and you’re telling me a story.”

Vivara pursed her lips. “Usually my dates are taller.”

Sabine felt her eyebrows raise on their own accord. “And mine are more articulate.”

Vivara’s shoulders sagged.

“Sorry,” She said for the third time that evening and guilt wound it’s way around Sabine’s heart and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Sabine’s eyes stole a moment to glance at the shadowing Reeka man. He was typing into a communicator. She raised a hand to Vivara.

“Not yet. Let’s start again. We’re on a date.”

“Right. Yes. Wow, it’s been a while since I was last on a date.”

“You’re joking.” Sabine wasn’t even acting. Even if Vivara turned around and told her exactly where Jayron was and all the contacts involved with his disappearance, that at would be the second most surprising thing she could have revealed that night.

Sabine didn’t date often either. She told herself it was because she was busy, or that it was risky. That she didn’t want to bring innocent people into her world, and that the people in her world were too far gone to ever be in a healthy, trusting relationship. Scavengers and bottom-feeders don’t thrive in partnership. They always end up eating each other.

That was her experience at least. A couple of flings that either burned out pathetically or exploded in a violent supernova. And now, she could hardly claim to be the most appealing piece on the market with her back in the firing line of every Irix contact in the Quadrant. The few beds she was welcome in would turn her away now.

She couldn’t remember the last time she made someone blush. She could barely remember how. And she could hardly take credit for Vivara’s nervousness - for her flustered sentences, her dry-mouthed rambling, her fidgeting fingers. The darkness in her complexion and the avoidant gaze were far more attached to what Sabine did than anything to do with who she was.

That was fine. That was the life she chose. If choice was the word.

But Vivara? Was she falsely interpreting the stares of other patrons? Were Reekas just that otherworldly that Vivara’s smooth, lush skin, gemstone eyes, and bouncy fairy floss bob were just average?

Vivara shook her head. “No, I don’t date often.”

“I can relate.”

“I mean, I get a lot of… approaches.” Vivara clarified and Sabine smirked. “Particularly at work, but the kind of clients I get at the diner are hardly the kind of people you’d want to spend any time with.”

Ah, there it is.

The Reeka man was looking at them again. Sabine made a point of laughing, and began weaving her braids together, eyeing Vivara with intent.

Vivara, unaware of their observer, let out a breathy chuckle. She pressed her hands to her cheeks.

“Is it warm in here, or just me?”

“It’s warm.” Sabine smiled, granting Vivara escape from her own flushing cheeks.

“Ok, good.” Vivara fanned herself with her hands. “I was going to say, you usually have to work harder to get me to blush like this.”

At that moment, their waitress returned with two glasses of a clear spirit - one that fit in her hand and one she pinched between her fingers. Of all things, that’s what made Sabine’s palms go clammy.

“Here you go!” She beamed, placing the glasses in front of them with a wink. “You let me know if I can help out with anything else.”

“Thanks.” Sabine smiled and Vivara echoed it with a low mumble.

Any time she became aware of the crowd at the bar, Vivara closed up. Sabine couldn’t let that happen. She needed her to feel confident enough to speak.

She took a sip of the spirit. It was harsher than she was used to, burning the back of her tongue like she was swallowing lighter fluid. She did her best to hide it, but it made her eye twitch.

Vivara seemed to have no issue. She sipped at her glass as if it were water. She met Sabine’s eyes and laughed.

“Strong?”

Sabine coughed. She didn’t need to, but it did the trick. Vivara laughed harder, resting a gentle hand on her chest. The sound of it, the music, made Sabine’s tongue feel heavy.

“Much stronger than the stuff I’m used to.”

Vivara raised her eyebrows, “Really? I was about to say it’s a bit weak.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

Vivara shook her head and her pink hair bounced around her shoulders. “No. What we serve at the diner is a lot more intense than this.”

“I think that would probably kill me.” Sabine muttered. Half of her meant it, wondering what kind of battery acid Reekas drank casually at a diner. The other half of her leaned into the hyperbole, itching for another hit of the Reeka’s laughter. She got it and with it, her whole body flooded with a warm hum - much faster than what anything in her glass would achieve.

“I can’t imagine you at the diner.” Vivara said. “This is strange enough.”

Sabine was too focussed to be offended by that. This was her in. Vivara was talking more openly, more naturally. Their conversation was so boring that any inquisitive ear would have turned away.

“Who do you usually see at work?”

Vivara’s expression became serious as she caught on. It wasn’t ideal, but Reekas weren’t known for their stoicism. All emotions were as easy to read as an alphabet picture book. Her brow settled lower over her eyes and she took a swig of her glass.

Her unoccupied hand returned to burying itself in knots in her skirt.

“It’s a busy place.” She started. “Loud. The tables are always full and we’re always understaffed. We get a mix too - families like it because kids eat cheap, lonely folks like to disappear in the noise, people come during their lunch break or after work. We’re open early until late.”

“Regulars, or mostly strangers?”

“Both. Definitely some I know by name, but also plenty I don’t.”

“And in the case of the night two weeks ago?”

Vivara shook her head. “They weren’t regulars, but they didn’t stand out either. They just struck me as normal businessmen. From the way they dressed, I assumed they were workers from a nearby office. Probably higher paid than most. I’ve been working at the diner long enough to know who will and won’t tip.”

“And this group looked like they would?”

Vivara rolled her eyes. “No. The richer they are, they less they tip and the more they expect you to perform. I knew as soon as they walked in that this group was going to be trouble.” She stopped, and bit her tongue. “But not trouble like -“ She waved her hand mostly in Sabine’s direction. “That.”

Sabine smirked. That. Could she blame Vivara for painting everyone associated with Jayron’s disappearance as that? Victim, perpetrators, investigators - they were all, in their own way, trouble.

“Gotcha.” She nodded. “Wealthy, put together. Enough to make you groan, but nothing to set your alarms off.”

Vivara nodded. “That was until I arrived at their booth to take their order, and I saw… well…”

“Jayron.”

“Yes. Though I didn’t know that was his name. When I said we usually serve a mix, I meant a mix of Reekas. It was the first time I’ve ever seen anyone from another species in person.”

Sabine had to make a concerted effort to stop her jaw from dropping.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.” Vivara’s face flushed again. “I didn’t realise my life was so sheltered.”

Sabine whistled. “So, I must really be a freak of nature to you.” She laughed at Vivara’s appalled expression and waved down her building defence. “Only a joke. You’re doing great for a first timer.”

“Thank you.” Vivara said though she looked bashful, embarrassed by her own naïveté. “If I’d known other species were so pretty, I’d have ventured out sooner.”

Sabine felt her own face warm and suddenly her jacket felt too tight. She couldn’t stop her furrowed brow.

Vivara leant in closet and a tension curled in Sabine’s chest.

“We’re on a date, right?” The Reeka offered in explanation.

The tension released and Sabine let out a long breath. She admonished herself for the small twinge of disappointment she felt now knowing it was just part of the act.

Unaware of her own effect, Vivara continued her account.

“I was so rude when I saw him.” Vivara groaned. “I didn’t know what to do. I just stared. And the others at the booth seemed to think that was funny.”

At that moment, their waitress walked past their table. In response, Sabine made a show of leaning over and placing her hand lightly on Vivara’s. She laughed and pulled her braids over one shoulder.

“Oh my god!” She crooned. “That’s so funny. You have to tell me more about it!”

In the back of her head though, she hyper fixated on the smoothness beneath her fingers, the warmth. The size of the hand beneath her own. Every minute pulse and flinch was on display below her. She could feel them in intense detail.

Vivara stared down at the offending hand - at where the two strangers touched for the first time. The waitress passed and they both pulled their hands away.

Sabine’s gaze flicked to the orange Reeka man. He was, or at least pretending to be, distracted by a game on a high screen above the bar. A few patrons were equally captivated. By the sounds of the spectators, the local team was losing. Sabine didn’t recognise the sport - probably Reekan in origin - but she did recognise the way the man’s head flung back.

“Ummmm,” Vivara said, bringing Sabine back into focus. Vivara was still staring at the space where their hands had met. Her cheeks awash. “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying.”

Sabine smiled. “You saw Jayron for the first time. Can you tell me more about that? How did he look, what were they talking about, how many people were in the booth? Those kinds of details are really helpful.”

“He looked… well, it’s hard to tell because he’s so different. But I’d say he looked overwhelmed. Constantly looking at the others, but I don’t know if it was for reassurance or out of fear. He’s about half your size and he was sitting up on the table, which I don’t think he liked. I mean,” She gestured between the two of them. “At least here, there are mixed sections and we can sit here as equals. But at the diner, the power imbalance was scary and I wasn’t even part of it.”

“That’s probably why they picked the diner. Crowded, loud, full of a species so much bigger with no one else to relate to. They would’ve wanted to isolate him.”

Vivara shivered. “That’s so scary. They stopped talking when I approached and I must have looked so stupid! My usual waitress spiel died as soon as I saw him. Then one of the four men prods Jayron with a thick finger and says, I don’t think she likes our pet, Little Jay…and I laughed!” She buried her face in her hands. “It just came out of me. I laughed. He was in trouble and I just laughed.”

Sabine buried the feeling of secondhand humiliation. But it mingled with her exasperation. Of course Jayron had to pick a Reekan syndicate for his first grand venture. Of course the desperation to out-do his father led him well out of his depth. Led to him going missing. Led his father to getting involved. Led to her getting involved. Vivara getting involved. How long would that list get before he was found? If he was found. And, if he was, Sabine knew he’d just go off and do it again. The cycle would start over.

And beneath all of that, there was her sadness for Jay, who knew his son didn’t have the gumption to take on his empire, and yet encouraged him to dream.

Behind Vivara, the Reeka man sipped his drink and watched the game. Then he paused mid-sip when his communicator flashed. He returned the glass to the table and inspected the new message. After a moment, he began typing furiously.

Once, and so briefly you could argue it didn’t happen, cerulean met obsidian and then both glanced away.

Fuck.

“It’s ok.” She said to Vivara, identifying the easy exits she’d scouted when she first arrived. As always, she had back-ups for the back-ups. “It’s a normal reaction to laugh when we’re stressed. Maybe part of you knew something was amiss, and for your own safety, you played along.”

Vivara glanced up from her palms. Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded, almost desperate for the out Sabine offered. “Yeah. Maybe that was it. I think I suspected something. All conversation died when I came to the table again with their orders but later, I heard more of what they were discussing.” She chewed her cheek. “I don’t usually make a habit of eavesdropping, but for some reason - nosiness, fascination, or fear - I was paying extra attention to whatever I could catch whenever I walked by.”

Sabine nodded, she found herself pulling in closer. This would be the lead. Maybe here would be something she could work with.

“And?”

Vivara took her glass and downed the rest of her drink in a way that would surely burn a hole in Sabine’s throat if she were to do the same.

“It was only snippets.”

“It usually is.” Sabine said, there was an anticipation curling and writhing in her stomach.

“I heard just a few phrases in passing. I remember ’next shipment’, ‘Florean Sector’, ‘Marcho Galvoni’, and ‘each pretty pincer’. But I don’t know if that’s helpful?”

Sabine steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. She nodded, committing the snippets to memory. She knew she had the communicator recording everything, but trusted her brain better.

Next shipment.

Florean Sector.

Marcho Galvoni.

Each pretty pincer.

They weren’t answers, but it was enough. She’d worked with less before.

Jayron, you fucking idiot.

“And when they left,” Vivara continued. “I didn’t see Jayron. I remember, despite the rush, looking for him as they left and being confused. But then,” She shrugged. “I didn’t see him when they entered, and the cafe was busy.”

Sabine frowned. “Did they have any bags with them?”

Vivara’s eyes widened like an angel first encountering sin. “Oh yes, they did. I remember. Just a brief case.”

“Would it have..?” She left the question unfinished. Vivara was already nodding.

“I think so.”

“And their colouring? The men in the booth?”

Vivara frowned, and for a second Sabine wondered if there was a better way to phrase that question. Vivara didn’t correct her, but that didn’t mean much.

“One had a deep red complexion and neon yellow hair. Another two were so similar I’m sure if they weren’t twins, they were at least siblings - pale blue skin, mustard hair. But the one who was doing most of the talking was all white - skin, hair, eyes. He was mean - cruel. I struggled to look him in the eye.”

What does that make me? Sabine thought as she could count the few times during their conversation Vivara had actually met her gaze.

She noted the descriptions. This last seemed unique enough for a Reeka that she could get a lead or two. But before she could follow-up, the shadowing man stood from his table, drained his glass, grabbed his communicator and began walking toward their table. She froze and admonished herself when Vivara noticed.

“What?” She frowned, beginning to look around.

“It’s nothing.” Sabine lied.

But then ‘nothing’ stopped beside Vivara at the mixed bar. The two of them together were an impressive sight - all-encompassingly large, dominating her entire view with their bright, saturated colours.

Noticing his presence, Vivara seized. Her whole body when rigid and her gaze once more returned to the floor. Her green face was ashen and Sabine thought she might faint.

But, despite Sabine’s assumption about their shadow, he paid Vivara no mind. Instead, his bright sea-blue eyes bore into Sabine in a way that sent an electric bolt through her nerves and left them sizzling like powerlines in the rain. Now, more than any time before, she was aware of the difference between them - the sheer gap in size, strength, presence. If she were to be cornered by him, there would be little she could do.

She didn’t recognise him but the look in his eye was knowing, which unnerved her even more. She was well-known in some circles. Mostly in circles where being well known did more harm than good.

“Sabine Ducote?” He asked and she didn’t grace him with a reply, simply opting to maintain his stare. If he knew her name and face, this was just performance.  “I thought it was you, but had to check with a few contacts to confirm.”

Vivara’s pink curls bounced as her head swung frantically between the two and their silent standoff.

“What’s happening?” Her voice was rising in urgency.

The Reeka man placed a gentle but firm hand on Vivara’s back, making the larger girl freeze. Her eyes when to Sabine’s with some silent plea for comfort. Assurance. Sabine wondered if this was what Jayron looked like at the diner.

“Don’t worry.” She said and knew it was unhelpful. She wasn’t willing to give anything away yet.

“I agree.” The man smiled. His hand still lingered on Vivara’s shoulder and the Reeka woman’s expression was as if she thought it would leave a stain. “You have no need to worry, love. Your girlfriend though?” He smirked down at Sabine who, was calculating whether reaching for her communicator or her stunner first would be wiser. “Well, see for yourself.”

He placed his communicator on the bar between them. It was huge next to Sabine’s own and what she saw on it made her feel as if all her bones had suddenly dissolved - that she’d flop onto the floor to be mopped up by the waitress later.

There, on the display, was her face - her white, thin braids, her dark skin, the scar across her nose. It was a candid photo but she couldn’t place where it was taken. It was too zoomed in to gauge any location. What she did recognise was the Irix sigil stamped in the upper left corner of the photo.

Bounty brand.

Across the bottom of the photo was her name. Another instance where the Hugo prosecutor’s screwed her over. Instead of using her case alias, they, in front of Hugo, called her to the stand by her full name.

She swallowed when she saw ‘PRICE NEGOTIABLE’ underneath her name. Open priced bounties were beyond rare. This would send every money hungry hunter in the Galaxy after her, even well outside Keridian territory.

“Hugo sends his regards.” The Reeka man grinned.

But before his hands could move to the stunner tucked under his coat, she had hers drawn and ready. One quick pull and there was a pretty new red freckle between his surprised brows. His cerulean eyes rolled and as his body crumpled to the floor, his hand slid off Vivara’s shoulders, causing the larger girl to shriek.

Around the bar, all eyes turned to them and Sabine sighed. Her heart pounded. She was in deeper shit than she or Jay could have ever imagined. As patrons began to stir, uncovering the cause of the interruption, Sabine snatched her communicator and quickly deleted the bounty message from the Reeka’s.

“What’s happening?” Vivara’s voice was wavering and panicked.

Sabine looked at her and peridot clung to her gaze desperately. Her chest aches at the sight. She didn’t have time to explain. Their Reeka shadow knew nothing of Jayron business as Sabine assumed, but was instead there for her - for the mess Vivara had nothing to do with.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she reached over and stole a precious second to place a sure hand on Vivara’s again.

“I’m sorry.” She said, and meant it. “Thank you for everything. I hope you never have to see me again.”

And then she bolted, leaving Vivara in a stunned silence as fellow patrons and staff of the Quasar swarmed around her. They were intrigued more than anything, and did not share Vivara’s horror at the lifeless form beside her. It was, after all, a boundary bar.

As she ran towards the closest exit, Sabine heard their waitress tut her tongue to a couple she was serving.

“Been there.” She said.

Sabine didn’t have time to think about anything except getting as far away from the Quasar Cafe as possible.

Though lingering in the back of her mind was a stupid thought she couldn’t quite shake.

All things considered, not a bad date.

______________________________________________________________

(@biggnansmol - thank you so much for donating! I'm sorry it's been a while coming. I hope you enjoyed xx

I loved this prompt and wanted to put a different spin on it. And let's be real, if it's a story by me it will have two key components: awkward gay flirting and batshit insanity. And added bonus if it's in space.

I had so much fun with this one. Someone sent me an ask recently about there not being enough wlw stories in GT - happy to make another contribution with these girls.

-ray xx)

[a-sleepy-reader]

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov: an Analysis and Review

Foreword

Trigger warning for themes of paedophilia, sexual assault, stillbirth, manipulation, violence, and tragedy as well as gruesome descriptions of death. If you want a review free of spoilers, please scroll to the section labelled ‘Conclusion/Review without spoilers.’

Introduction

Calling Lolita a controversial novel is a safe bet. Some readers revolt at its topic, others still protest it as the inspirational romance of the century. Both give Lolita a bad name. I will say it once very clearly; plot-wise, Lolita is a book about a paedophile who grooms, manipulates, isolates, and rapes a twelve year old girl. It is disturbing subject material to say the least, subject material that has to be given more thought than its protagonist’s ramblings of adoration for the book’s namesake. 

For instance, despite its fluctuating reputation, Lolita has found itself to be a playful and humorous novel to many, a “...comedy of horrors” according to the San Francisco Chronicle. So what is Lolita, exactly? A comedy? A thriller? Both? It is time to examine this twisted novel and see just how tangled its thorns are.

Plot synopsis

Humbert Humbert is a typical man by most standards: a handsome, French writer and professor with a soft spot for road trips… and little girls. 

Humbert categorises the sexes into the male, the female, and the nymphet, the latter of which describes peculiar young girls Humbert feels an intangible attraction to. It is with such a nymphet that Humbert self-describingly falls in love with; rambunctious twelve-year-old Dolores(whom he dons ‘Lolita). He cannot keep his mind off of her; ‘light of my life, fire of my loins.’ In however poetic a prose he may choose to describe it, Humbert feels a physical bond to young Dolores like to no one else since his dead childhood sweetheart. Humbert goes so far to pursue the girl that he marries her mother, whom he plots to drown in the blue depths of a lake to have Dolores all to himself. However, what Humbert describes as a work of fate led to the day Dolores’ mother’s brain lay strewn about the road, smeared by an incoming car. She didn’t need to be subject to Humbert’s schemes to die.

From there on, Humbert has legal custody over the twelve-year-old fire of his loins. Raping Dolores becomes a routine. Though she does initially say yes, she is a minor incapable of consent in the imbalance of a grown man with everything to lose if she is to either escape or stop the affair; she will lose her only family if she reports him, and risks breaking his heart if she cuts off the affair altogether-unfortunates only know what people do when they have nothing to lose. Orphaned and trapped, Lolita agrees to Humbert’s ‘love.’ As he described it, ‘she had nowhere else to go.’ 

Two years pass before Dolores falls ill during their second road trip and is taken out of the hospital by an uncle aware of Humbert’s affairs. By way of escaping with this newfound relative, Dolores is finally free from Humbert’s possessive grasp. Depressed by his separation from the girl, Humbert lives a miserable life for several years before receiving a letter from Dolores herself saying she is married and pregnant. Though Humbert suspects the man behind both titles is her own uncle, Dolores refutes this by saying that, though she was in love with him, they did not settle because she refused to be in his pornographic film.

Enraged with the uncle, Humbert arrives at Dolores’ uncle’s house and murders him before being arrested. It is here that we learn Lolita is Humbert’s autobiography of the events surrounding his ‘love’ for the book’s namesake. Though he wishes for the girl-turned-woman to live for a great many years, the victim, escapee, and survivor dies in 1952 during childbirth. Her offspring is a stillborn.

Analysis

It’s a curious thing, really. That so many interpret Lolita as a romance, I mean. Of course, it often presents itself in its writing as a summery romance to read on the beach. A handsome man meets a female. An attraction is felt. Male and female confess an attraction for one another which leads them on a series of road trips following the female’s mother’s incidental death. The language is no exception to this tone-just read the first paragraph: 

“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.”

It’s made up of beautiful, flowery sentences, language suggestive of the pure romance of a man ‘in love.’ With a twelve year old girl he rapes. Yes, Lolita is one of those novels that wears many outfits, its outermost lining being that of a tragic love story of one traumatised man and his ungrateful lover. This perspective is especially interesting when taking into account Lolita’s exquisite writing; could the flowery language have prompted so many to interpret this book as a romance? Could Lolita be representative of how so many wield words to distract or deceive those trying their best to disapprove of them? Either way, few deny that Humbert is lying, to himself or to the reader, of exactly how the events of his fascination with Dolores occurred. Digging further into the book, Lolita becomes  an unreliable narrator’s documentation of the rape and manipulation directed toward a naive minor trying to cope with her mother’s death. Further still, it is a comedic satire of a paedophile’s attempts  to justify his crimes... and failing miserably. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I wasn’t even her first lover.” Deeper still and it’s one man’s search for his childhood sweetheart(dearest and deadest) he never finished loving, so he seeks, endlessly, to shower her lookalikes with unwanted ‘love.’ Without end. Without fulfilment. 

Lolita is a story of infinite stories.

Review

What first struck me about Lolita was its beautiful writing; its eloquent prose, imagery, and metaphors hopelessly hooked me from the first paragraph. Nabokov never ceases to use amazing similes, description, and personification to amplify the reader’s experience of the goings-on of Humbert and the girl. This is especially striking in contrast to its tragic subject material; Humbert will rape, and he will manipulate, and he will scheme a murder, and he will hurt so many innocent lives, but he will do so with seemingly effortless grace in the scribbles on a paper. 

Despite this, I did not find Lolita to be a difficult read regarding comprehension of the text. True, many a word I did not understand, but, despite this, I could always tell what was being communicated; the language is certainly not as dated as Hemingway nor Shakespeare. It may even be a calming read for those with a strong stomach, and will certainly teach a thing or two to those wishing to learn more about poetic writing styles done well. 

Some may find the book to be lacking in terms of plot and overall excitement, but I feel this is a subjective view rather than a relatively factual one; Lolita is not an action book. Nor is it a drama. Humbert sometimes spends pages describing the exact locations of a road trip, or exactly how he earned money in the 50’s, and so forth. Some may find this mundane; I will admit that I was, at times, bored by it myself. However, what Nabokov sacrifices in brevity he makes up for with a profound understanding of Humbert’s emotions, environment, and thoughts. 

One slight criticism I do, however, have, is that I found all of the characters in Lolita were fairly bland for me. True, Humbert is unique in his attempt to beautify the macabre, but beyond the initial shock factor of his morale and the revelation that he is seeking the love of a girlfriend from his childhood, Humbert can be mostly summarised as ‘quiet, manipulative, scheming, and possessive of Dolores.’ I was not invested in him as a character, probably due to a lack of good qualities within him; it is true that by one perspective, his story can be interpreted as tragic for him, though through the more common lens of Lolita being a 336-page manipulation of the severity of the atrocities of an evil man, Humbert loses all good qualities beyond his capabilities as a writer.

The same goes for Dolores herself, as I found her to be fairly two-dimensional; she is very sensory and seeks goods of food and adventure and she has a rambunctious heart unconcerned with how others’ feel nor how others perceive her. She is what many would call a ‘wild child,’ and though she becomes more withdrawn later in the book due to the numerous abuses she endured, I did not see much depth to her beyond face value. 

That being said, I certainly do not think the characters are bad, just that they are underwhelming in comparison to the rest of the story. 

I recommend Lolita to those enthralled by character-driven stories of nuanced emotions and traumas, a sort of story of the broken attempting to break the whole. If you are not put off by very thorough descriptions nor by a purposefully thin plot, I have the impression Lolita will revolt, horrify, hypnotise, and seduce its readers into its soft, macabre pages. 

I give Lolita a rating of 90%.

Conclusion/Review without spoilers

Lolita is a vile, endlessly layered story of trauma and the endless search for lost love, horrific abuses, of humorous wit and smirking irony, and of one man’s endless destiny of deceit. I suppose Humbert’s own initials best summarise the smile and wink this book will deliver as you holler at Humbert, weep for Dolores, or perhaps even vice versa. They do say Russians are witty, and Nabokov does not fail this reputation even when we analyse how Humbert Humbert’s initials sound in the author’s native language: 

Ha-ha.