Happy Hour

[tesla_bot]

Robo steps into the bar and over debris.

"Looks like I missed the party. Hey Bar, can I get a-"

Napkin.

"Look, I'm sure it's been a long day but -"

Napkin.

"Fine. Fine. I'll do it. It beats personnel reviews anyway."

Specials
Bottled Beer
Draft Beer

[OOC: Open until it scrolls and happening after the fight, how ever long that takes.]

Comments

[astral_brat]

Ben, all almost-fourteen years of his human self, slumps onto Bar when he reaches her and peers up at what appears to be an average servobot.

He glances at the Specials menu and tries: "Bottled beer."

He's had his own tiring day of, you know ... being grounded. What? That's so a legitimate concern for a teenager, especially a Force-sensitive one from a galaxy where grounded is quite literal, thank-you-very-much.

[tesla_bot]

Perhaps an average servobot if wearing tshirts and cargo pants with hiking boots draws no attention.

"And just how old are you kid?" asks Robo leaning on the counter top.

[astral_brat]

"Um."

Ben knows there's no way he can pass for twenty-one. But he also knows the legal age on some planets is eighteen (heck, on Tatooine it's 'tall enough to see over the bar'), so he sits up a little straighter and says confidently:

"Eighteen."

[tesla_bot]

"In what, base three?" grumps Robo but he put a bottle on the counter. It might have some alcohol in it. Somewhere. It'll kind of taste like beer though.

"So what has you down kid?"