Challenge #00992-B261: It Doesn't Mean What You Think It Means...

Expanding on (aggression of one species very similar to flirting for another)

Someone tries their absolute hardest to start a fight with a human, or just scare them off or something (maybe there is a bet going?) And gets unexpectedly dipped. Kiss optional.

Alcohol was one of the more common registered inebriants, so Intoxicant Bars always came with a semi-flammable miasma. One such establishment was The Unlikely Mammal Drink. A bar run by a saurian who had heard of other establishments with names like The Red Lion or The Blue Cat and figured out the pattern.

And in such a Galactic Establishment, things... happen. Things that encourage a sensible publican to invest in ceramisteel or pliable silicone beverage containers. And keep the bottles away from a certain class of clientele.

Put it this way.... There are those for whom the glass is half full. There are those for whom the glass is half empty. Then there are those for whom the glass is a weapon to use against that flakker who just nicked me pint.

And tonight, The Unlikely Mammal Drink was bristling with them. The Galactic Alliance's collection of roughest, toughest Deathworlders. Pirates, scavengers, and ne'er-do-wells, all.

Except, perhaps, for Tammy.

She wore Engineer Blues. She sat alone at a table, clearly enjoying a Fluffy Navel in a Party Hat[1] through a twisty straw. And clearly unaware that she sat in an island of solitude in a Two Distance Unit radius. She was currently humming along to the music.

Some of the nastier regulars would have been taking bets on how much longer she had to live, but this was a human. That changed the odds significantly.

Currently, they were quietly daring each other to go and pick a fight. The mere presence of a Fluffy Navel in a Party Hat should have been enough to get Tammy evicted by the other clients... but many of them had tangled with humans before and come off second best. They were carefully selecting the roughest and toughest of the already rough and tough clientele.

H'rugaz, who ran the bar, sensed the mood of the room and wisely chose to polish hir beverage containers behind the shielding ze'd installed for such events.

Finally, Gorkax the Destroyer emerged from the committee and made his way over to Tammy's table. It was a very good intimidating walk. Taking up as much space as he could and showing off both his muscles and his unnecessarily spiky armour.

"Human," he roared, only slightly startling Tammy out of her musical reverie. "Let's dance."

"I thought no-one would ask," chirped Tammy. She grabbed both of Gorkax's hands and cheered, "Turn up the volume, please, H'rugaz!"

Gorkax the Destroyer found himself in the chaotic grip of a Deathworlder. He could barely keep his feet under her powerful manipulations, let alone struggle against her grip. She moved both his body and hers around in time to the music.

She was playing with him?

And, at a climax to the melody, she bent him over backwards in a clear submission posture. Then she laid her mouth against his cheek.

A kiss?

"Any time, handsome," said the human. Her eyes were twinkling.

Gorkax wasn't sure what had happened, but... on the plus side, he had a date.

[1] Part "Fluffy Critter", part "Fuzzy Navel", part "Skittle Bomb", part "French Connection" and part "Alabama Slammer". Served in a deep, conical glass with a selection of streamers attached to the swizzle stick. Classier places add a scatter of rainbow sprinkles to the top.

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