The Driver stepped out of the teleporter cabin and felt a shiver running down her spine; for a moment, her left leg trembled under her weight and she had to lean on the teleporter's wall not to lose balance. She would probably never get used to those things. She would have much rather used her space ship to travel to the bar, but one of its engines had been heavily damaged during the last mission and she wasn't going to put it under any more stress before it could be repaired: she could in no way afford another one at the moment, and, in case it stopped working away from home, space tow truck service's prices were incredibly high. Still, she didn't want to miss on a chance for a night out either. The aforementioned mission had been exceptionally stressful and long, so she needed -she deserved a night to herself, where she could flush away her weariness and thoughts with a bit of booze.

She pulled her teleportation key out of the lock in the cabin and put it in her pants' back pocket. She exhaled, her body now over the teleportation-induced shock, passed the security laser scans and entered the space bar proper. A human would have normally turned the attention of a bunch of space-traveling aliens, for humans lived in an isolated little galaxy and had at large not gotten hold of space-travel themselves, but she was a regular there, and so were almost all the other clients. She had never really held a proper conversation with any of them besides a greeting gesture, a "how is it going", and occasionally their respective professions -she would always say she was a delivery woman, which wasn't entirely untrue. She rarely ever got to the point of even sharing names with them.

She promptly headed to the bar top, weakly nodding at a couple of known faces on her way there; she sat on one of the stools and greeted the barman with a kind smile:

"Hello there. Could I please have a pitcher of space light beer?"

The alien, blob-like barman eyed her as he scrubbed a glass with a dishrag in one of his tentacles. "So the usual, uh, miss?" he grumpily murmured, "coming right up", he put down the glass with the others and got to prepare her order.

Her smile didn't falter despite the cold attitude of the barman. She didn't take it personally, as he wasn't really a happy-go-lucky guy to anyone; and besides, she had been rather distrustful and even frankly repulsed herself the first few times she had seen a new alien species. Hell, sometimes it still happened. And in the dangerous depth of space, being distrustful was often a life-saving attribute. It even had a certain charm to it. And she appreciated how he still maintained some semblance of polite professionalism by calling her "miss".

The barman placed the glass full of space beer in front of her.

"Thank you very much" she smiled at him again. He turned around murmuring something impassively and got back to scrubbing his glasses.

She looked down on her drink and thought to herself: Space bar… space bar… aliens really have no imagination when it comes to names. She picked the pitcher by the handle and slowly started sipping on her beer. As she drank, she turned around to look at the rest of the clientele. Most of them were sitting alone, at their tables, backs bent and eyes steadily focused on their drinks as if they were deliberately trying to avoid each other's gazes. Three of them were playing some kind of card game -excuse you, space card game-, another two were in the opposite corner playing space billiards. A lazy, barely-audible tune was coming out of the speakers in the corners of the ceiling to complete this gloomy picture.

She usually liked the calmness of the bar but tonight's air was just straight up depressing. She turned back again and kept on drinking her beer. Damn, it's like they all got back from a funeral or something. Maybe I should have just stayed home and pet my cat. If I had any booze at home I probably would have done that too.

As she was lost in her thoughts, someone opened and closed behind themselves the bar's main entrance door. Her brain barely registered it. They approached the top bar, but again she hardly noticed the faint sound of their tiny boots. Only when they jumped and sat two stools to her right did she properly notice the newly arrived person, but she didn't turn to look at their face out of politeness -aliens were very sensitive and defensive about foreign gazes in this part of the universe. She did take note though of two things: their small stature, and their shiny black boots. Damn, I gotta ask them where they got them from, she thought.

The stranger spoke in a slow, raspy and yet somewhat high-pitched voice to the barman, who had turned to them: "Bar drone, serve me a cold schmoothy".

The commanding, weirdly-phrased order made her ears perk up.

The barman looked him up and down, then stated in his half-monotone, half-brash tone: "Sorry, we don't serve children here. Where are your parents?"

The stranger immediately jumped and stood up on the stool, so that his eyes were now at the same level as the barman's.

"CCCCCHILD?! WHO ARE YOU CALLING A CHILD?!" he shouted arching his back and dramatically pointing his finger at the barman. His shouting broke the usual near-silence of the bar and all of the clients turned their eyes to him; the Driver's looked at him with the most curiosity, as she had never seen an alien of his species: he had green smooth skin, two antennae on the top of his head instead of hair, no nose, and two huge ruby eyes, which were now furiously pointed at the barman. They look like jewels, she absentmindedly thought.

"I am no child, and I will have none of your insolence, you filthy drink-serving filth-drone!" he continued accompaigning each insult with a waving of his pointed hand, "now do your job and serve – me – that – schmoothy!" he additionally emphasized the last part by rhythmically stomping his right foot on the stool. Then he locked his angry eyes even more firmly, jaws clenched, a low growl erupting from the back of his throat.

Despite that, the barman kept looking at him unphased.

"My apologies, sir. I probably phrased it wrong" he said, now with a hint of hostility in his voice, "what I meant is, we don't serve kids' drinks here. And we don't serve off-menu".

The stranger's pose somewhat loosened, but his eyes actually narrowed even more. Ultimately though, he crossed his arms and bitterly spat: "FFFfffine, give me one of your me–nus then".

The barman grabbed one from under the counter and handed it over to him, who aggressively took it with a swift sweep of his arm.

"I hope there's anything remotely drinkable on this dirty piece of paper, or you'll have to consider me a lost client!".

"What a loss" whispered bitterly the barman as the stranger walked to an empty couch on the left side of the local.

Contrary to the rest of the clients, who were now back to their previous activities as if nothing had ever happened, the Driver was brimming with curiosity, as she had quietly observed the whole discussion with growing interest, still sipping on her beer. Well, that was an unexpected turn, she thought.

Careful not to be heard by the stranger, she turned to the barman and asked him discretely:

"Excuse me, what species is that fellow exactly?"

The barman, who had gotten back to scrubbing his glasses, replied:

"That's an Irken, miss. They're some real bad crowd. I was really hoping he would take the hint and just leave here" he added more quietly.

"What kind of bad crowd?" she asked. Apparently, the barman's dislike for this Irken race was so great it had caused him to forget the one against her.

"The pillaging, murdering, planet-sweeping kind of bad crowd. Yet, for many aspects they resemble children a lot. 'Better not getting involved with them. At least this one seems to be traveling alone. Strangely. And hopefully after tonight I won't have to see another one of them in my bar again" he concluded harshly.

The Driver took a look at the Irken sitting on the couch: his short legs were hanging in the air, as they were too short to touch the floor; his big, bug-like ruby eyes were attentively searching the menu; his antennae were resting behind his head, twitching from time to time.

That cute little guy is a mass-murderer? she wondered incredulously. But thinking back now at the fiery rage with which he had responded to the barman's insult, it didn't look that implausible.

The Driver bit her lips. Would it be that risky to approach him in any way? Her experience with alien creatures advised her so, but something about him was incredibly alluring to her. Maybe it was the contrasting, albeit scarce information about him: he looked small and cute, but had a fiery temperament and his race consisted of murderous, vicious savages. And yet, especially now that he was calmer, he appeared so lonely and sad, his eyes weary and dark.

She had come to the bar seeking refuge from the usual, chaotic adventures that her job entailed but now that she had seen that Irken stranger she felt like she wouldn't mind eventually getting into another one. Plus, he didn't seem to be armed at all (not heavily at least); she just had to be careful and keep a hand on the ray-gun hidden under her vest.

She turned again to the barman:

"Say, you don't serve off menu, but do you do table service?"

Her request seemed to break the spell that had made the barman briefly act so exceptionally accommodating to her, and he looked at her like she had just insulted his mother and drowned his first-born child. And maybe even made out with his wife. All at the same time.

"… yes. Yes I do" he finally muttered, voice full of pain and regret.

"Well, then. I think I'll soon be making use of your… table services" she beamed, and with a twirl she jumped off her stool, beer in hand , and made her way to the couch the Irken was sitting on.

He was so focused on reading the menu still, that he didn't notice her approach at all, much like she hadn't noticed his earlier. She stopped near the small table in front of the couch, and trying to sound and look as confident as possible she said:

"Hello. May I sit here?" and she pointed at the empty spot to his right.

The Irken quickly turned his head up to face her and his eyes widened in stupor. His mouth slowly opened as to try and say something, but nothing came out of it.

She was unsure of the reason behind his reaction, but she wasn't going to pass this chance:

"I'll take that as a yes, thank you" she said, and she quickly slipped onto the couch, putting her half empty pitcher on the table "So, have you found anything that interests you?".

He was still looking at her in disbelief. It was starting to make her nervous. Maybe he just wasn't used to female attention? Well, that would have been really endearing. Or maybe he thought she looked extremely pretty? But what if he actually thought she was extremely ugly? He didn't seem disgusted though, just shocked…

Her flux of conscience was interrupted by him stammering: "I, uh… what?"

"You know. The drinks. Have you made your pick?" she replied as she tapped on the menu he was holding.

His eyes followed her hand, then went back to her face as she pulled her hand back.

"Are you… a human?" he asked, confusion and disbelief palpable in his tone.

He was the first alien so far who had recognized her species. He knows what a human is? Now her surprise was probably comparable to his. And her curiosity twice as big as before. Still, she tried not to betray her feelings and play it cool:

"Hell yeah I am. What about it?"

"What… How did you get here?"

"Via teleporter" she said and pointed at the teleportation cabins on the opposite side of the room.

"Humans have teleporters?" he said, his body now fully turned to her; his hands were still grasping the menu, even more tightly than before, but he didn't seem to be aware of it.

"Well, not really, but I do" she said, a hint of pride in her voice. "How do you know what humans are? We- "

"So you escaped from Earth on a teleporter?!" he interrupted her, as he suddenly stood up and got really close to her face: "Where is it located?! You need to give me its coordinates! Speak, Earth-woman!" he shouted.

What the hell is his deal? Hand on her concealed gun, she tried to keep her voice calm and replied: "I didn't leave Earth on a teleporter. I used a space ship. I am pretty sure that there are no teleporters on Earth".

All that inquisitive enthusiasm of his seemed to steeply drop in one moment.

"Oh" he said, audibly disappointed. Then, all of a sudden, his energy seemed to swing right back in, though not quite as high as before: "But! But! Where did you get this spaceship in the first place? And how did you manage to resist the Earth gravitational pull?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you whom I got the spaceship from. What I can tell you is that they were not human and no human knows about it. As for your second question, any standard non-earthen spaceship is able to breach the Earth's atmosphere with no excessive strain."

The Irken fell back on the couch, more gloomy-looking than before. He quite literally looked like a deflated balloon.

The Driver sighed in relief. He seemed to have calmed down and he was probably not dangerous after all. Still, how did he know about humans and the Earth? Why was he even interested in them? She really wanted to ask him, but didn't want to upset him any further.

"When exactly did you leave Earth?" he asked her, his corrugated expression emptily pointed at the table in front of him.

"I don't know exactly. Maybe something like seven or eight Earth years ago?"

He nodded thoughtfully. He didn't seem to want to continue this conversation, so despite her curiosity she didn't press further. Besides, this whole Earth thing seemed to be the main thing dragging down his mood for some reason. And she had already made up her mind that she would cheer up the guy by night's end. If anything, for a personal satisfaction.

With this new objective in her mind, the Driver turned back to her usual happy and kind demeanor and said with a comforting voice:

"You know what? You really look like you need a drink. Give me here" she grabbed the menu from his hands, which he seemed to have forgotten to be holding. "There must be something here that you might like" she said as she read through it " I don't think they've got anything like a schmoothy though..."

The Irken waved his hand at her "Nah, I can't drink any of that putrid stuff anyway"

"Really? Like, there's really nothing that you like here?"

"They all have alcohol in them" he stated as he crossed his arms.

"I must admit, you didn't really strike me as a straight-edge type of guy"

He side-eyed her, and explained to her in a rather conceited tone: "Invaders don't stoop so low as to drink alcohol".

Invader? This guy was a planet-invader by profession?

Thrilling.

"Well, I don't see any of your superiors here" she said looking around "And you do seem to be off duty for now. You know, you don't have to get drunk or anything if you don't want to. And I get you have never tasted it before. Why don't you try a sip of my beer?" and with it she gently nudged the pitcher towards him "I mean, you came all the way down here, so why not make it the least bit worth it with a new experience?"

He looked between her and the drink, unsure. It was like some kind of battle was going on inside his head, one part of his mind curious to taste the beverage and the other still firm in its resolve not to. After a while, he cautiously leaned over the glass and smelled the content.

So he does have a nose… somewhere there.

He then sighed and turned to her "Alright, fine. But just ONE sip" and despite his agreement to it, his voice was still full of hostility.

So does he actually like humans or not? she wondered. Before, he had looked as though he was somewhat concerned about her state of being as a human, but now he was acting even ruder than the usual aliens she had to deal with.

With his left hand he poked on a plate on the metal object on his back; she had payed no real attention to it: she had unconsciously assumed it had to be some kind of alien object-carrier. Her guess seemed to be correct, as the plate rose and he drew a straw out his… metal backpack.

This guy never ceases to surprise, uh.

He was about to dip the straw into the drink, but right before the tip of the straw actually touched the liquid's surface he turned to her and asked:

"Space beer, right?"

"Uh- what?"

"This is a space beer, not a filthy human-dirt beer, right?"

"Yes, of course." Damn, I've never seen anyone being so picky about a free drink. And what about the straw? Does he think I'm contagious or something?; truthfully though, she was still rather intrigued about him. I really hope he likes it. How will he react if he doesn't? He might not say anything further about himself...

The Irken Invader tentatively sucked at the straw and got a bit of the beer inside his mouth. He savored it. Then finally swallowed it.

He said nothing for a few seconds, looking impassible and somewhat thoughtful in front of himself. This weird silence was making her nervous. She immediately thought of the worse:

Did he not like it? What if… the stuff is actually toxic for him? And he's dying in front of me?

"...So? How was it?" she asked, still trying to maintain her calm facade.

"It's not… as bad as I thought it would be" he finally muttered, "in fact… I kind of almost like it" he let out this last admission with what looked like a huge strain. It was like he was just now trying to break some kind of dogmatic belief he had held his entire life. He probably was. The Driver felt a surge of pride at the thought of it.

Loaded with newfound energy, she asked him:

"You know, there are probably things you'll like even more here. I get that you like sweet taste, yes? There are plenty of sweet alcoholic drinks, you know?"

"… I suppose"

"Well, then, why don't you try some kind of bubbly wine? This type has a fruity aroma to it, much like a schmoothy. Yeah, it seems like something you would like. You know what, don't worry about the money, this one's on me"

"What? No, wait- " before he could finish, she stood up and got the attention of the barman by waving her hand: "Barman? Could you please bring us a bottle of Space Fuzzy Red Wine number 45X and two glasses?"

Assured that he had got the order (his suffering, glaring expression was very telling of it), she sat back and kindly smiled at the now much confused Irken.

"...What's your actual deal, human? Who are you really? Why are you doing this for me?" he asked, suddenly suspicious of her.

"What are you talking about? I have no ill intent against you" she said, elbows on the table, chin resting on her hands. "If you are implying that I was planning on running into you on this floating piece of space-rock and -I suppose you think so – ambushing you, well, you are sorely wrong. My life isn't that exciting, I'm afraid" she took a long gulp of her beer, emptying the glass. "You see, I had just returned from a rather long mission. I was hoping a nice booze-up would get me back in shape, but this place's boring-ness was wearing me out more than the mission itself. Until you came in" now she turned her body to him, with arms now rested on her legs, eyes full of enthusiastic curiosity "I can't put my finger on why, but you seem so interesting to me. I can just feel a sort of pull towards you- if you know what I mean" she said tilting her eyebrows.

The Irken didn't exactly seem more relaxed, but he didn't look as though he felt threatened by her like before. His confusion though had noticeably grown.

"No" he said "no, I really don't".

Before he could express himself further, the barman came up to them and placed the bottle of wine and the two glasses on the table. "There you go" he begrudgingly murmured. Then he turned around and went back to the top bar as swift as he came.

The Irken glared at him as he was going away from them and whispered something about him under his breath. The Driver couldn't really hear what he said but she felt like she agreed.

"Yeah, he's rather rude" she nodded "never mind him, he's like that to everyone" she reassured him as she opened the bottle and poured the wine into the two glasses. "Have a taste!"

Once again he looked at the glass with an unsure expression. Then he turned to her and said:

"You know, I really should be going" and he placed his hands on the couch like he was about to jump off it.

"What? But I even payed for it!"

"Actually, you still haven't payed. And I never asked you to do that"

"But I will! Oh, please, stay here" she said in a begging tone. She reached to caress his arm but he instantly jerked away from her. Afraid she would lose him for good, the Driver just dived in and taking her last chance she explained: "Look, you really look like you've got something... unpleasant going on for you. I don't expect you to tell me what it is- I don't necessarily even want you to. I just want, in my small way, to make you feel better, if just for tonight".

He actually, fortunately, seemed curious about what she had last said- but in no way less dubious about her actual intentions.

"But… why?"

"I already told you" she said smiling suavely "you intrigue me".

Still as confused as ever, he brought his hand to his chin, thoughtfully. His antennae were swinging left and right, independently from each other, as though his processing brain was causing them to mechanically move. His inquisitive eyes were locked into hers.

His focused gaze made her blush. God, he looks so cute.

Like she did with the pitcher, she placed one of the glasses of wine directly in front of him.

"Come on, just take one sip."