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The loud, energetic song being played by the band in the corner ended with a dramatic flourish and the sound of raucous cheering filled the hot, crowded cantina.
“Alright, ya’ll!” the singer called out in his distinctive Lysatran twang, “Back yer asses up, make some space! You know what time it is…!” The mass of bodies that had been dancing in the open floor space (that Thrawn had very intently not been watching) crowded the edges of the room, joined by a number of patrons that had previously been sitting at tables and booths. The sudden proximity of people blocked Thrawn’s view of the room from where he sat with Faro, slumped back in their booth. A new wave of cheers assaulted Thrawn’s ears, pulling his attention away from the drink he had been determinedly focused on, now curious despite himself.
“What’s going on?” Faro asked, climbing unsteadily to her feet and peering through the crowd; an expression of confusion settled on her face moments later. “What the fu-” Her question was drowned out as the singer began waving his arms, leading the crowd in a loud, enthusiastic chant: “LAST! CHANCE! LAST! CHANCE!”
The two Imperials looked at each other: What the fark was a Last Chance?
Thrawn stood slowly and peered over the crush of bodies. The dance floor had been covered by what looked like a grid of repulsors, and in the center of said grid was.. Well. Thrawn wasn’t quite sure what the thing was supposed to be.
“What’s the matter? You two ain’t seen a mechanical Nerf before?” Eli’s warm, familiar voice cut easily through the noise of the crowd, his hand deftly plucking a mofwati - Thrawn’s mofwati, in fact - from amongst the large collection of half-full and already emptied glasses littering the surface of the table. When had he returned?
“Mechanical.. Nerf?” Faro repeated, glancing up at Thrawn. Thrawn shook his head, bewildered. Eli laughed, then smirked at the pair; he pressed the glass back into Thrawn’s hand, their fingers brushing in the transfer.
“You’ll see.” Eli vanished again before either could ask for further clarification.
The singer was pacing around a large, vaguely rectangular block that had been covered with brownish material and had a false Nerf head attached to one end. The Nerf head was wearing a white hat balanced on its horns, emblazoned with two words in black: LAST CHANCE. “C’mon now, who’s gonna be the first to step up and give ol’ Last Chance a ride? Hmm?” The singer leaned down, a shocked look blooming on his face as he put his ear up to the Nerf’s ‘mouth’. “Well well well. Last Chance says he figures ain’t no one here got the guts to try to tame him. Who’s gonna prove this scruffy beast wrong?” The singer slapped the machine’s hindquarters then whooped as a human male stepped up, much to the delight of the crowd.
“Oh, I have got to see this, Hammerly won’t believe a word of it.” Thrawn glanced over in time to see Faro vanish into the crowd. He decided it was wiser to remain where he was and observe from a distance.
By the time his eyes swung forward again, the man had climbed on top of the mechanical Nerf. He held a leather strap set between the Nerf’s shoulders in a death grip, his knees planted on the sides of the machine. He held the LAST CHANCE hat up in the air, and with a final drunken cheer, he shook it from side to side. The repulsors turned on as the Nerf started to move - back and forth, up and down, around in a circle; its motions switched randomly between smooth and jerking, slowly at first but then rapidly increasing in speed. The first man fell off almost immediately, met by jeers from the crowd. The second, a female Twi’lek, held on for roughly six seconds before she too was flung off, the repulsors catching her and preventing her from bashing her skull in on the floor; the third rider, a Rodian, managed only four seconds. The crowd cheered and booed the performances in turn based on how long they managed to stay on Last Chance; one Togruta woman rode for nearly twenty seconds, and one would think she had climbed into a burning building to save a child the way the crowd was carrying on when she was finally launched off.
Thrawn shook his head. The whole affair seemed to him like a pointless exercise in self injury. There was no pattern he could discern to what made one able to successfully remain on the Nerf, no benefit granted by species or gender. He was looking through the crowd for Faro when another rider stepped up. Thrawn’s eye was drawn almost immediately to the expanse of brown skin exposed by a confusingly open shirt, to the curves of an ass hugged by scandalously tight pants. Thrawn heard Faro’s voice - “You’ve got to be kidding me!” - before it was drowned out by cheers as Eli settled himself on the Nerf, his boot heels dug into the sides of the machine, the LAST CHANCE hat held up in his hand. Grinning, he scanned the crowd, his gaze locking on Thrawn’s for just half a moment before he gave the Chiss a wink, slapped the hat atop his own head, and whooped.
The Nerf started up, spinning and jerking, but Eli stuck to it like it was second nature. He held the leather strap in his fist, nearly even with his crotch. His legs hugged the sides of the machine, muscles flexing with the effort needed to remain atop it. When the Nerf bucked up, he leaned forward, ass lifting; when it dipped, he leaned back, hips planted and rolling forward. Thrawn was transfixed: his mouth dry and eyes wide and bright as he watched Eli move, the rest of the room falling away until there was no one in his awareness but the two of them. His drunken mind filled with inappropriate scenarios as he stared at Eli, cataloging each movement in his memory. Eli glanced up from his perch on the Nerf and for a fraction of a second their eyes met again; where earlier in the night Thrawn had only been feeling roiling anger and jealousy, now something else coiled low in his belly, sharp and hot and hungry. He thought, for just a moment, he saw the same reflected back in Eli’s smoldering gaze.
And then the Nerf jerked and Eli lost his balance and went tumbling to the floor. Moving on instinct, Thrawn rushed forward but only succeeded in slamming his thighs against the edge of the table, sending the glasses on the surface rattling. The bloom of pain broke through his distracted thoughts, and he blinked in mild surprise to find himself back in the crowded cantina the sound of cheers filling the air. Eli bounced off the repulsor field, laughing when he finally skidded to a stop. What had seemed like a suspended eternity had only lasted thirteen seconds.
Before Thrawn could begin to process what had just happened, Faro shoved her way back to the table, eyes shining with intoxication and delight. A huge smile spread across her face as she shoved a holopuck in Thrawn’s hand. “I didn’t know if you could see clearly from back here, so I made sure to get a recording for you.” Thrawn thumbed the puck’s power button, blue dust and light projecting Eli’s Nerf ride, every roll and thrust captured in perfect miniature. “Hammerly is never going to believe this!” Faro exclaimed, laughing as she hunted along the tabletop for a drink.
Thrawn watched the recording three times, then turned the puck off and surreptitiously slipped it into his pocket, his cheeks and ears flushed purple. "Indeed," he replied, then drained the glass in his hand.
He needed another drink.