Crying. A child was crying. A pair of dark stormy eyes glanced through the window into the clothing store where a little child was obviously in distress as her mother tried to smooth her.
An idea!
Dusa smacked into the glass window, starling the pair for a moment. The two of them stared as they watched the silver haired lady slowly slid down her face enough to turn her nose into a rather piggy looking snot. The child hiccuped once. Twice. And then a small giggle. The mother’s shoulders dropped as relief washed over her.
Then Dusa flopped onto the ground. The child’s eyebrows scrunched in curiosity as she got closer to the opposite side of the window to see what the strange woman was doing. When she got close enough, Dusa started to wiggle like a worm. The child’s small hand went over her mouth in attempt to squish the laughter that was escaping, snot bubbles forming between the tiny fingers.
Dusa then smiled, watching the corner of the lips uplift the puffy cheeks. Dusa brought her hand to her nose and wiggled her fingers as she puffed her cheeks out as much as she could manage and winked as she wormed her way out of the child’s sight.
Now the child was appeased for the time being, Dusa got up, dusted herself and froze when she thought she saw a familiar person . She squinted to see who it was-
“Ah, kdnt!”
Dusa felt someone bumped into her and she waved it off when their body language was apologetic.
“No no, it’s okay, really-“ not forgetting her target, she turned to see the familiar sight but that was gone.
“Huh. Oh well! Soup!”
She needed to find the restaurant.
…..
“Where the kark is it?!”
The shining jewel that was the luxury resort and casino space station Hod Haran’s Folly twinkled in the reflected light of Dajorra as it hovered in its orbit around Gethsemane. Passenger ships came and went in an intricate dance from its landing bays as the day-to-day business of the station kept rolling. Countless tourists from all around the galaxy were coming to enjoy the finest cuisine and entertainment, and perhaps try their luck at the games of chance and skill that promised fabulous rewards to those who won. But some travelling to this small bit of paradise had a different goal in mind.
The members of House Qel-Droma, the crew of he Voidbreaker II, and select associates thereof had been contacted a short while ago. An invitation to take part in what was deemed a “realistic skill training scenario” had been presented, with more specific details to be provided when the time was right. They were urged to make their way to the Folly at their earliest opportunity, and provided a scan code which would provide them with VIP access to the station: all expenses paid while the exercise was underway, and near-limitless access to every venue the station had to offer.
Now though? Now, the time had come. All those who had previously received the invitation to participate were alerted to a new message. Those who did not typically carry a datapad were shocked to find one had been placed on their person. Even those currently in hyperspace transit were informed they had received a new message - an extremely difficult if not outright impossible feat. Regardless, there the message was, boldly emblazoned with the emblem of the Blind Man. Many ways and tools were available to the Blind Man, and to try to understand all of them was to invite madness. .
“Greetings, operatives,” the missive began once decrypted. “It has come to our attention that an object known as ‘The Heart of Alos’ has been brought to the station known as Hod Haran’s Folly. Details are scarce as to the exact nature of the Heart, but it is said that possession of it can unlock all of the secrets of the Galaxy. It is entrusted to an individual known as The Guardian - even with our vast network of resources we have been unable to ascertain the exact true identity of this person, though we have reliable information that they are currently aboard the station for at least a few days.”
Text scrolled past the screen providing some details as to how this information was verified, but was of little relevance to the mission at hand.
“Hod Haran’s Folly, it so happens, is owned and operated by one Duke Alex Draconis - an associate and ally to the Blind Man. He has furnished us with VIP access and accommodations for our operatives during this mission, and while he does not have any more significant details on the target, he has made it clear that he is willing to lend what resources the station has at its disposal to assist in our efforts. Of course, he can’t be too obvious about this lest the station’s reputation suffer, so a special symbol has been distributed to indicate where you may find assistance in your endeavors.” The screen displayed an emblem of a golden triangle, point downward, engraved with a stylized eye. .
“Should you choose to undertake this task, the goal is the retrieval of ‘The Heart of Alos’ and its extraction from the station. If you do not wish to take active part in this mission, then by all means enjoy a relaxing weekend at the resort. Your presence alone will provide cover and distraction to assist those operatives who are actively working.” The Blind Man’s emblem covered the screen once more and, just as suddenly as it had arrived, the message was gone as if it had never been there.
Alex Draconis relaxed in his hot tub at his personal estate on Level 4 of Hod Haran’s Folly, the near-scalding bubbling water frothing around him as his head leaned back against the padded edge. Nearby, Lady Raileera was sunning herself on a cream-colored chez lounge on the deck.
“Are you sure this is wise, Alex?” Her soft voice rolled forth casually as she slid her sunglasses back into place over her piercing blue cat’s eyes. She tossed the datapad onto a table next to her couch and rolled over onto her belly in order to feel the warm rays of Dajorra on her back. “It seems to me like this could cause a great deal of chaos around the station…”
“Yes, my dear,” Alex didn’t even open his eyes as he responded, a wide grin splitting his face as he spoke, “but at least it will not be boring!”
Heart of Alos
The Guardian
Here in the ‘Folly
There was no time to relax. There was a quest to be had. A squad would need to be formed. A Quest Squad to rival the legends. To do that, she’d need a team. The best team. And every team needed a brains of the operation. Which meant she needed…him.
“Come in Pantman,” Zig called over encrypted comms, bypassing any sense of security and directly pinging Nathan Breeze’s comm. “This is Zi…I mean, Zepheroph.
Silence, but her intuition, somehow, could sense the shy Pantoran’s weathering sigh.
Come in Pantman, over!” she made a chhhhh noise with her lips and teeth as if mimicking an old radio…despite the fact that their comms worked more or less quietly and seamlessly.
She knew Nathan had received the message. She could see his location, on her datapad. Likewise, Zig saw that Dusa had made a beeline to investigate the soup. The Zygerrian tracked the Rattataki'a location as well and smiled, hoping to catch up with axe-ceptional lady soon. Pinching her datapad to rotate the map grid, she also noticed another familiar yet aloof…Qel-Droman? It was hard to tell with that one, since he kind of just showed up wherever he felt.
Data was nice. Slicing into the holo-grid of the station wasn’t exactly difficult for her, with Alex’s awareness extending to not being worth his time to try and stop her, but also maintaining a respective firewall over the 4th floor and more private aspects of the station.
Fine then, keep your secrets…
“Oi, Breeze, if you’re not going to answer, at least let me know where I can rendezvous with you to pursue the mission. Or let me finally meet your 'understudy. I promise I’ll behave.”
Zig typed in a lock code to the door to her shop, closing up for the day. She adjusted her nerf-leather jacket she got from Vez, her purple Voidbreaker uniform on underneath. She grinned as she padded off towards where she suspected Nathan had entered the station.
The Pantman was dressed in his usual wear minus the medical garb or engineering smears of oil and who knows what. Loose pants with a plainly patterned grey sweater covering whatever shirt he wore.
We just got here. Nathan responded on the comm, glancing sideways. He smiled on meeting Esen’s eye, albeit nervously, before looking around as if Zig were about to manifest around them. We’re heading past your store toward… C3. You can meet us there? Uh, Zepheroph
He ran a hand through his hair before glancing back again at the two women walking with him.
“That’s Zig. She knows where we are anyway. If she asks you to do the… mission thing you do not have to.” Nate made a point of emphasizing the last few words but his smile failed to be convincing that he was actually concerned. “Shopping is still on the agenda as long as you want it to be.”
<@267489687902486530> <@147021450706944000>
“Ahhh~” Dusa rubbed her belly as she set down a fifth serving of bowl among other leaning tower bowls that was slowly starting to stack up at the end of the table. Then her datapad pinged as her heart pounded with excitement. Does Evelyn need her for a job? Was it another adorable picture of Matcha and that growing belly? A message from the guy she likes and was meeting in a few hours for a date!? Oh no. What if he had to cancel!?
Frantically, the hybrid tried to grab her datapad while the waitress was bringing another bowl for her.
Oh. It was none of those. Dusa blinked when she realized this may need to be private. She thanked the waitress and waited for her to walk away. When the server was out of sight, Dusa slowly sank down from her chair and pulled the table cloth over her, bowls inched closer to the edge and was in danger of falling down.
Dusa listened intently.
“AW YEA, THIS IS AXECELLENT!” A whoop came from underneath the table as she scrambled to get out. It was time to help out her ‘other’ job! Dusa planted herself right on the chair, her silver hair brushed to the side as she brought the bowl to her lips and downed it in gulps. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, quickly paid for the food and dashed out to seek for anything that had the golden triangle pointed downward, engraved with stylized eye.
“Let’s find that target! READY. AIM. THROW!” She thumbed up to absolutely no one as passerby’s looked at her weirdly, some even put an extra pep in their step to get away from her faster. Oh! Her date! She suddenly stopped in her fast paced walking to send a message:
Hey there Excalibur ❤️ I have found a new target and I aim to bullseye it, might be a bit late for our date.
Now. It was time to hunt. Dusa hopped onto a trash can to help broaden her sights, that was, until it moved.
“WAH!” Dusa hopped off, startled as it angry beeped at her, the lid clattering nosily.
“Oh! I am terribly sorry, I was not watch- You got something on you.” Dusa reached out and grabbed the flower that she accidentally had squished with her feet. Her white cheeks turned into a tinted pink. Her favorite flower.
Was her Excalibur already here?
Right. Target! She held the flower while she looked around. Her shirt is black. On it, was a cartoon of soup with eyes and a cape and it says Soup-er Hero and she was wearing dark green cargo pants and black army-style boots.
Zig’s ears twitched in excitement. “Copy that, Pantman, en-route!”
She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses. Fixating them on her nose, she slid them up towards the bridge of it with her index finger. As they settled into place over her sandy eyes, the translucent lenses flickered with technology as the Envoy Glasses projected an augmented reality HUD that drew from her datapad.
Shiny she thought to herself as she slipped her hands into her pockets and casually made her way towards C3. She intentionally took a different path so she could “organically” run into them instead of sneaking up from behind them or appear to have been creepily following them. She hated when people did that to her.
** |=<O>=|**
GONK! the “trash can” Gonk-unit droned in mechanical exasperation. That was the fourth time today. It warbled, then hopped off to find a new place to work. Plenty of room on Hod Harlan’s Folly to make it as a droid, even if the organics never seemed to notice them.
As Dusa walked, a friendly looking shopkeeper with green eyes and blonde hair. A Hapan judging by the high cheekbones.
Another vendor the door over was a short Bothan who seemed to be smoothing out his robes every few seconds, as if noticing a new wrinkle that never seemed to go.
Remy stood, foot tapping impatiently as her datapad finished its malware checks, and she slid it away, making a mental note to find higher security programs for it.
“I apologize, Lieutenant, but Esen promised me we would be working today. I have no intention of my first group operation going anything but perfect if I can help it. Do you plan on commanding or overseeing sir?”
Remy had tried to flee the Voidbreaker before even finishing the message, but Esen had managed to catch her first, literally. Now, the three were moving at a frustratingly slow pace through yet another vacation spot, and Remy was worried she had been tricked. Again.
She adjusted her greatcoat, still not willing to wear that sailor uniform in public, and loosened her cane on its hook at her waist, not wanting the loss of speed that came with its presence.
<@267489687902486530>
Following along with the group, Esen grumbled a,
“yes Remy, we are working. Last time was working too don’t you remember? Lieutenant Breeze sent us to get a package.. that just so happened to be in a really fancy hotel… and also got us a room for the night. Honestly, I don’t know what the issue was.” She tugged at her bun, whilst avoiding eye contact with Remalia. A guilty smile plastered on her face, a grin so large her eyes crinkled in the corners.
“We- we can work and shop yes, Lieutenant? Er- uh. Pantman.”
She didn’t need any clothes, but shopping… she liked clothes shopping. Which was surprisingly weird being as she wore the same thing every time she went out. White tee shirt, dark green tactical pants, combat boots and her blue hair pulled up into a bun. Today, it was slicked back with a significant amount of gel.
<@432543120635461643>
“This is a subterfuge exercise so, shopping would work as a good disguise while we find allies or clues. Plus if Esen is actually purchasing, the mask is realistic while also potentially wasting time observing us while shopping instead of noticing an agent somewhere they shouldn’t be in that moment. I am mostly here to oversee, I’m not really an active.. operative usually. Zig makes me sometimes.” Nathan answered, before sighing ever so softly.
-# “I knew that nickname would end up sticking someday.”
The Lieutenant led them leisurely toward C3, avoiding the temptation to look over his shoulder for Zig. She had a tendency of just appearing.
<@267489687902486530> <@189568236201705472>
As if on cue, a tall Zygerrian with a indigo braid over one shoulder, hands tucked into pockets, and chewing gum casually veered off her perpendicular pursuit to casually slide into step right next to Nathan. She gently bumped the Pantoran’s shoulder with her own and flashed a coy smile. Her light purple sailor pants hugged her curved hips and cut off at the ankles just before her black laced boots took over.
“‘Sup,” Zig Kaliska said with a reverse headnod, her Envoy glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose before she popped them back up into place. “No sign of hostile targets, Lieutenant, these must be the rookies?” she glanced over her shoulder to take in Remalia and Esen, eyeing them up and down.
“Names Zi-I mean, Zepheroph,” she flashed her elongated incisors teeth. “You’ll both need your code names, though,” she said, looking up as if trying to think, or accessing some kind of augmented HUD from her glasses.
“Ah, perfect. Here,” she handed Esen and Remalia a small piece of flimisplast—a thin sheet of metal with a single name etched onto it—to each of them. Then she snaked her arm across Nathan’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper to him.
-# “Sorry, I just missed you. Thank you for bringing them along.”
Remy takes her plate and looks it over, “Grim, if not inaccurate.”
She tucks the plate in her bag alongside her dataslate and refrains from giving Zig- Zepheroph, a salute, opting instead for a probably deeper than normal nod.
“And First- Zepheroph, are you planning to overwatch too? It will be a marvel if our rivals dont find it before us if everyone decides individually to ‘have fun.”
She looks further in the building for a moment before realising her rudeness, “Eh, I apologize. I have only been permitted to go on a few jobs so far… I have had precious few chances to prove my value.”
Zig’s mouth opened to start to form the words, but then paused mid motion as her brain caught up with the words. She made an indelicate giggle that turned into a snort. “What you did there, I see it,” she said, tapping the side of her head in acknowledgement. “And hey, don’t think of it like that. The Voidbreakers aren’t your typical job. I thought so when I first joined up. I had been on plenty of crews before, plenty of gigs, but it was the first time I ever felt…wanted for more than my ability to fix stuff on the ‘cheap,” she explained.
“Everyone helps, even in ways they might not realize. But we’re a team, and we have each others back. Which means ya’ll have me now,” another grin, but then her face sobered faintly.
“And besides,” she gestured towards the market district. “Everyone in this district knows me because I run my own shop here. So, I’m going to need to rely on you three to do the talking. See if you can 'sus out anything about this 'Guardian’ or ‘Heart of Alos’. They’ll be more loose-lipped with customers, methinks,” she kept her voice low, but easy enough to be heard. And while she seemed to give off excited exuberance that was a bit silly, when strategizing her speech was crisp and seemed to be well thought out.
Remy looked blankly at Zig, “What I… did there?”
She blinks twice and pulls out her cane to look more natural, or as natural as someone like her could be.
“This is easy for you to say. I have read of you, as a superior, and I know of your forms of value. A mechanic, a slicer, a leader, someone who is well liked and easy to talk to. I am none of these things, and so I am on a timer before someone gets tired of feeding me. I have already fallen behind my colleague, and goodwill can only be stretched so far. I say this not out of self-pity or fear, I am merely acknowledging my circumstances. Anyway.”
Remy pulls out her datapad again, connecting to the local network to find a map of the building.
“Do you have names or locations of any of the insiders? When time is of the essence it is best to trust in the efforts of allies instead of retreading old ground.”
Zig nodded, and didn’t argue or refute anything the tall Echani was saying. Instead she just continued to smile. “Heard. But, you’ll see…” she let it trail off as she got distracted, seemingly, by peeking at Remalia’s datapad. Then she tapped the side of her glasses, and the data she’d sliced into earlier transmitted wirelessly to Remalia’s datapad, bypassing whatever surface level security it was running.
“Here’s what I was able to pull. There is Auren Ten'ar'ak, a Hapan silk merchant. Tall, killer legs, hard to miss. And then Aldren, a Bothan who, despite looking shifty and fidgety, is actually a very keen cryptographer who definitely has a thing for tall blonde’s that ignore him.”
She continued. “We could also sweep towards the Hotel District. ‘Hems would be your best bet for who’s been staying-slash-going. Chiss, glasses, curly hair, wears a little hat.”
Esen took the bit of flimisplast with a slight nod. Maintaining eye contact. Only reading it once Zig had looked away, and deposited into one of the many pockets of her pants. Before standing much straighter than she had a moment before.
“Thank you, Ma’am”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, um, er- Mercy at your service.”
This was not the proper place for introductions, and blush bloomed on her cheeks from embarrassment.
She hoped she was able to have a proper introduction sometime later on. Esen very well knew who she was talking to, but maybe not the other way around. Regardless of these thoughts running rampant, she brushed it off and locked the emotions away. Her head and vision locked straight ahead in the company of such a high ranking officer.
The thoroughfare of the station stretched out before them, hundreds of guests shuffling about as they proceeded through their day. They were on the central loop between the Market District and the Casinos, the storefront advertisements of dozens of shops, stalls and even some street vendors clashing with the noise and lights of the casinos to create a cacophony of chaotic energy.
Down at the end of the street they were on, past the gaudy exterior of The Gravant - “Try Not To Get Ripped Off, Dumbass!” the marquis boldly proclaimed - sat a modest store just at the turn of the corner. A sign above the door in a blocky font read “Many Bothan’s Dice”, while the stores windows were filled with colorful posters: an advertisement for an upcoming expansion of the Dark Brotherhood card game; a poster bearing images of a necktie, stapler, and keyboard which read “Desks & Deadlines Eighth Edition Sold Here!”; an extremely bright picture of seemingly endless piles of dice beneath the logo for Chissex Dice. .
Around the corner from them, opposite The Gravant - “You’re Stupid And You Should Feel Bad For Losing!” - in the inner ring was a tall building, emblazoned with stylized Mando’a text which read Tome’tayl. From where the stood they could not see the front entrance of the hotel past a lane of plants that would be unfamiliar to most, as they were the natural flora of pre-devastation Mandalore. Painstakingly revived and maintained by the botany teams which also maintained the park and botanical garden of the upper levels, these bushes and jungle trees were the first element designed to set the scene for Tome’tayl’s aesthetic of the Mandalore of old.
Past the central hub of turbolifts, all the way at the far end of the station was a lane of the Market District framed in bright, flowing fabrics. This section of the Market District was commonly known as the “Fashion Hub”, and contained many stores devoted to clothing, accessories, and associated goods. According to the information Zig had been able to pull from the station records, this is where “Finer Things” - the silk and fabrics store run by Auren Ten’ar’ak - was to be found. <@432543120635461643> <@267489687902486530> <@147021450706944000> <@189568236201705472>
Zig flashed an impish grin as she studied the Zeltron’s reaction.
So cute. Must. Protec
“I love your boots,” she grinned.
Esen continued to stare straight ahead, not faltering. Still stone faced.
“-Thank you, Ma’am.” The only emotion she expressed was a double blink.
Zig tapped her chin, but nodded and let it drop. She would win Esen over eventually. Just had to play it cool. She adjusted her glasses.
“Well anyway, here is the Fashion hub,” she gestured.
Remy continued to tap her foot impatiently and lightly smacked the back of Esens calf with her cane in a goading motion.
“Come now, you wanted to shop, hurry up and do it. We have business to be about. I-if you promise to keep it to thirty minutes, I will let you pick something out for me to buy as well, okay? We need as much time as possible to get this thing out of here safely.”
Remy looks pointedly away from the group, past the turbolifts.
“First- Zepheroph owns a shop right? Maybe she can help point you somewhere fitting to help with efficiency.”
“If you’re going to be one thing, be efficient,” Zig nodded approvingly. “My kind'a person, Widowmaker.”
She squinted ahead. “If you’re looking for some fresh threads, the Hapan merchant imports materials that are really comfy. Bit pricy, but I can confirm she doesn’t skim on her supply chain quality.”
She glanced into the distance towards the Casino district. Potential for answers there, but also might be putting the rookies in bad positions.
“Also, we can all get something matching, if you’re into that kind of thing. If you see something you like let me know and I can probably negotiate with the vendor…merchant to merchant.”
Nathan smiled, letting himself fade somewhat into the background as the group shifted toward the stores, walking casually along. He came up beside <@267489687902486530>, golden eyes glancing over the young woman and offering a small smile, speaking softly.
“Zig- Zepheroph, isn’t the high tier military officer you have to be perfect for. You can relax around her. She spent my first few months on the Voidbreaker dragging me out places, parties and all sorts. I’m just an engineer, a medic in training at that time, but she’s the one that broke me out of always being on duty, so to say, when on the V B.”
He followed the First Mate’s glance, before nodding slowly, “We can check them out, then maybe make our way around the place. Go from store to store, see what sticks out. As I said, if we’re actually shopping, then when we’re pretending to be it’ll be less obvious.”
<@147021450706944000>
Esen dropped back next to Nathan, preparing at a moments notice, to drop and do twenty, for breaking proper formation. Murmuring whilst looking forward continuing her march.
“Alas we are on duty, and she is the high ranking officer here currently.” Nodding slowly to him before returning to her original position, hoping not to be noticed she had dropped back.
To Zig, head still locked forward, continuing her march,
“Permission to speak freely, Ma'am?”
<@189568236201705472>
Fortunately, Zig had been Captain of the Ship for a long enough time to pick up on when certain folks needed the clear line of command to better process things.
“Permission granted, Cadet Mercy,” she said with a smirk as she flexed her fingers into the shape of a gun. “What’s up?”
“Orders are to get matching uniforms for us four, or are more included Ma’am?”
A moment pauses, face still stone faced, despite the ever growing emotions building inside her.
“Lieutenant- er, -Pantman mentioned the form rank is a bit more relaxed than the Dajorran military. May I refer to you in a more relaxed position- Ma’am?”
Her brow sweats, as she continues to look forward. Extremely anxious for even mentioning it, her joints going loose as she prepares to drop right then and there.
“I would very much appreciate that,” Zig replied with a bow of her head, lowering her voice to a whisper, “…Esen.”
She scratched the back of her head with her hand. “I can get a bit carried away sometimes when we get shore leave. W-which isn’t to say you can’t come and go as you please! It’s just…the ‘breaker is my home and I just like to make the most of my time when we’re docked!”
“Here,” she said as she pulled out a nerf-wool hand towel from her bag. “In case you need it. One should never leave home without a towel, afterall.”
She paused just before they approached the merchants. “Does not have to be a full matching uniform. Just maybe a scarf, a broach, a hat, something that we all like that we can show off, eh?”
As they approached the Fashion Hub, even among stores offering fashionable outfits and exotic accessories, Finer Things stood out. The entrance to the shop was entirely carved from marble, with ornate pillars holding up the sign, inlaid in gold. In the store window, a half dozen mannequins were adorned in ornate silken garments; while the clothing itself was not sold at the store, the proprietor did have an agreement with a nearby custom tailor shop which would provide a substantial discount on their services if the fabrics were purchased from Auren. Through the glass doors inlaid with gold filigree, ranks upon ranks of flowing cloth were displayed, all artfully arranged to funnel customers unidirectionally through the store until they reached the far back, where a marble countertop was laid out with extremely well cared for tools of fabric tending - brushes, scissors, measuring implements and marking chalk were all laid out with fastidious care. Behind this reclined Auren Ten’ar’ak, golden hair flowing down across bronze-tanned skin as they lazily flipped the pages of the book they were reading. <@267489687902486530> <@147021450706944000> <@432543120635461643>
Her face perked up slightly at the mention of her name. She had not been the only one who had done their research. Pride and joy beamed from her momentarily, before fading.
The realization hit in and her snapped straight posture was loosened and her shoulders dropped very slowly to a much more relaxed state. Noticing the movement out of the corner of her eye, she turned her head slightly, snapping to make eye contact. Fighting the invisible battle between her previous training, being on duty, and the requests.
She took the towel gently, careful not to touch Zig’s hand. Eyebrows angled upwards, slightly puzzled.
“Thank you, Zepheroph.” Examining the hand towel before neatly folding it and placing it in one of her many pockets.
Upon entering the fashion hub, her eyes locked on the elegant outfits of the mannequins. Making mental notes on parts of the outfits she liked, comparing what she would change if she were getting a custom made for herself. Swapping her gaze to many brightly colored fabrics. Admiring their intricate designs and textures. Occasionally peering around the room, then to the clerk, looking for the triangular symbol they were informed about.
Remaining silent, she did not want to lead first.
<@102435651189743616>
Zig dragged Nathan in by the arm, trusting Remalia to follow.
She glanced around with a critical eye, as if appraising everything. Then her shoulders slouched slightly as she folded her arms across her chest.
“My appraisal prowess only work on droids, junk, and technology…not clothing,” she murmured towards Esen. “It does all look nice, but I never know what to try unless Lucine drags me shopping…”
Remy stepped forward quickly to catch up with Esen, arms behind her back. Trying her absolute best to look natural, which as should be noted is not very good, she speaks quiet enough that only those in the immediate group could hear while looking across the store.
“Strange that you chose now of all times to remember formality. But if that is your concern with Zepheroph, then you should remember field protocol as well. If you treat someone as a commanding officer, with deference and salutes, then they are marked for any watching.”
She stops so abruptly that for a moment, the rest of the group has to as well, and speaks in a more normal tone.
“It is… strange to be the one to tell you to relax for a change. Like a fight, remain focused, but loose.”
Remy moves on, quickly sliding towards the back, seemingly intent on talking to the owner as soon as possible.
“Oh well, only one way to find out, amirite?” she elbowed Nathan, wiggled her eyebrows, and popped open the door to make an entrance.
“Oh wow, what a lovely shop,” she said outloud, not having to fake being impressed as she looked around at all the pretty colors and fabrics.
Nathan squeaked, rubbing the spot although there was no way it had actually hurt. He allowed himself to be pulled along into the store after Zig, glancing back for the two apprentices and then forward.
“Woah.” His eyes had widened. “Well, if there’s a place to shop, you were looking at the right one E- Mercy?”
The shopkeep glanced up briefly, noticing as Remalia approached the back of the store. Their eyes flicked past the approaching Echani, noting the others who had entered the shop alongside her. Then, with careful and deliberate intent, decidedly returned to the page of their book without any comment.
<@189568236201705472> <@267489687902486530> <@432543120635461643>
Remy moves up to the counter, eyes flickering to the badge momentarily before she introduces herself, ignoring the cold reception.
“Good day. My name is Remalia, and judging by your apparel I am guessing you are Auren, one of few that could help us,” she waves slightly to the apparel surrounding her, “Me and my compatriots are looking for knowledge, specifically about trinkets or accessories that could pertain to our ships crew. I figured that instead of searching blindly, we could ask an expert for help immediately.”
Remy folds her hands in front of her and waits expectantly, hoping that all the doublespeak and verbal winks and nudges would be enough to get the ball rolling on both of her current objectives.
“Not much in the way of trinkets here, love,” the merchant spoke in a disinterested monotone, continuing to not bother taking their eyes off the book. “I suppose some of the smaller pieces could be used as an ascot or a sash, but honestly the best accessory I can suggest for the uniforms you all are wearing is a steel drum and a book of matches.” A slender finger flicked the corner of a page, sliding it across and into place as their eyes continued to casually scan across the page.
“Jokes on you,” Zig said as she slid in just beside Remalia, “as the matches would just burn out quickly and not do much. But hey, at least she has friends.” The Zygerrian casually let her arm go over Remalia’s shoulder, hoping she wouldn’t be offended by the touch. She tried to keep a fake smile on her face, and not be annoyed at the comment about the Voidbreaker uniform.
She was well-the-kark-aware she wasn’t a queen of fashion, but she knew that the crew looks cute and cool. Stupid, overly pretty Hapan with their nice long hair and–*focus Zig!
A deep sigh escaped from between thin lips, doing intriguing things to the fabric draped over Auren’s form as they finally set their book down on the countertop. It was clear there would not be a moment’s peace to continue their reading until this was dealt with, so may as well make it quick.
“If you are looking for ‘trinkets’ to liven up your attire,” piercing green eyes seemed to bore directly into Remalia’s as Auren spoke, “then you and your friends should hunt for some ideas where the well-to-do like to flaunt their wealth and superiority.” Seemingly endlessly-long legs uncrossed and stretched out as the Hapan rose from their seat and leaned against the counter.
“You may be best served looking about the high-roller tables at The Gravant-” From off in the distance a loudspeaker blared “Go home but leave your wallet behind!” Auren squeezed her eyes closed and took a slow breath through her nostrils. “How does that always happen… The high-roller tables at that gaudy eyesore, and see if anyone there catches your eye.”
“And by all means if you’re ever looking to redo your,” what could have been a laugh escaped from deep within their chest before being stifled back down, “uniforms you know where to come.”
<@147021450706944000>
Zig’s cheeks puffed out as she clamped her mouth shout before she said something she’d regret. The puffs deflated and she instead ground her molars, as if trying to get gristle out of her teeth, and her nails bit into her palms.
Esen was taken aback by the clerks manners or lack thereof, despite never letting it show on her face. She walked up side by side with Remalia, and gave her a small nudge, not super visible but enough for Remy to feel and gather she was there.
“Thank you very much Ma’am.” She said with a head dip.
“Love the tunic by the way.” A bright big fake smile plastered on her face.
Muttering under her breath to Remy. “That’s our queue to leave. She gave us info.”
<@147021450706944000>
Elsewhere
As Dusa walked, she heard a rustle from one of the alleyways. Curious, she took a step toward it, and blinked when a small creature came sprinting out of the alleyway.
It was a Merqaal with frightened gray eyes and reddish-brown fur under gray scales. It darted towards the Rattataki’s leg and…hid behind it?
Out of the alley came a mean looking Tooka. It’s pointed ears had notched holes, and it bared its teeth in a snarl, body rigid.
Before Dusa could react…a second shape blurred in the shadows. The nimble creature crashed into the Tooka’s flank, knocking it off balance with a resounding hiss-shriek. When it recovered its footing, it found itself looking at a large amphibian creature in the form of a giant shadow painted across the alley’s wall. Fear flashed in the Tooka’s eyes as it scampered away into the alley, knocking over discarded litter as it went.
From the shadows, another Meerqal trotted out, its enlarged shadow shrinking to normal size. It bound over to Dusa and looked up at her with emarald green eyes and struck a victorious pose. A male. It made a coo'ing noise as it approached the other Meerqal that was hiding behind Dusa’s leg.
The female Meerqal peeked out shyly but then seemed to feel comfortable by the males show of bravado. She padded over towards the other Meerqal and thanked him by nuzzling her head against his neck. Her knight in shining armor…
Just then, a gonk-droid topped over a few shops down, followed by a string of curses. A man crawled out of the trash-can-like chassis and dusted off his knees, and approached the Meerqal.
“Dammit Axelot, what did I tell you about running off-” his voice trailed off as he spotted Dusa hovering over both Meerqal. “-er, Dusa, hi! Fancy running into you…here,” Wyn scrambled for words.
“I see you met Sir Axelot…and a new friend?” he tilted his head at the other Meerqal.
That could have just been a hint to turn towards to the casino, they wouldn’t actually have trinkets there after all, and either way, this shop keeper seemed to be distinctly unhelpful regardless. Remy almost turned to go, but stopped, glancing at Esen. Something in her didn’t want to leave, at least not right now. She had told Esen they could poke around in here for clothing, right?
Looking back at the rather rude clerk, she inclined her head a little, “I apologise, I may have misspoken. When I said trinkets I was thinking of things like cufflinks, brooches, or cravats. However, I understand they may be classified as jewelry, and as such not within the purview of a dedicated clothing shop. Other smaller accessories should be, I feel, such as scarves, hats, or coats. Do you have anyhting such as those you might be willing to direct us towards?”
If the comment about their clothing registered to them at all, it did not show on the Hapan’s face. They heaved a deep sigh and gestured toward one side of the store where small racks were set up with yard-ends and offcuts which had been passingly reconfigured into a variety of scarves, sashes and ascots.
“You’re welcome to look through the collection there, though it’s all made from leftover pieces of fabric from larger orders so if you’re trying to find something consistent you’re unlikely to have much luck. I deal in silks and fabrics directly, not so much in the actual clothing and other accoutrement. The type of clientele I typically deal with,” the closest thing to emotion that had yet entered their voice now snuck in, though it certainly wasn’t a positive one, “are looking for a fine fabric to then bring to a custom tailor - I have contacts with a few nearby that I can refer you to - in order to have clothing made to their specifications.”
“As far as the trinkets go, I had assumed you were looking for something rather specific,” as they spoke they casually adjusted the brooch at their shoulder, a bit of gold shaped into a triangle engraved with a stylized eye, “and so I recommended somewhere you may find some hint of what you may be looking for.”
<@267489687902486530> <@432543120635461643> <@189568236201705472>
“I understand, thank you. Perhaps we will be swayed by the work of the scraps enough to be convinced into something more tailored if nothing fits our tastes. Maybe later we will ask in the casino about the other kind of trinkets, I’m certain some in there can be more help.”
Remy turns and gently pulls Esen and Zig along with her towards the appointed racks.
“Come along, Esen. I promised you could shop, yes? Now is your time, to get ideas at least.” <@267489687902486530> <@189568236201705472> <@432543120635461643>
Zig, perhaps wisely, sank back and busied herself with her datapad, idly prodding at the shops holonet connection and password encryption.
Esen not wanting to leave Remalia’s side, stepped away slowly. Her face unmoving, despite the internal thoughts.
Examining first the scrap piles, making mental notes. Moving her way onto the rolls of fabric. Her eyes trailed up and down at the many rows. Occasionally stopping and mulling her thoughts over a couple of the muted bland fabrics. Before moving over to vivid and bright ones, not stopping long though, moving along before others took note. Ideas sparking along the way. Unfortunately, no ideas for the Voidbreaker crew, but an idea nonetheless.
She walks up to Hapan at the counter,
“I would like to put in an order for a matching pair of business attire, Ma'am. Remind me how this works, do I go to the tailor and explain my idea or do I order the fabrics first?” She smiles once again with the bright big fake smile.
“Well, that depends.” Now that actual business they could engage in was taking place, the merchant seemed at least a little less dismissive. “You can go either way, really. If you find a fabric here you like, you can give me the rough measurements of the person the outfit would be for and I can tell you how much you’re likely to need. You could buy it and take it to a tailor of your choice and have them make the outfit. If you’re more concerned with the outfit itself and less about what it’s made from, you’re probably better off talking to the tailor first and usually they’ll either provide you a list of the needed materials or more commonly they’ll just come to me directly themselves and add the cost of materials onto your bill with them.”
“For business attire, your best bet would probably be either B’ak over on the other side of the yacht docks or Suits Me Well just on this side of the spine.” Auren pointed out the door of the shop across the way to a shop the crew had passed on their way here, just at the corner of the main thoroughfare.
Zig, half listening, idly tapped away at her datapad, not having to feign distraction.
All she wa really doing was changing Auren’s shops holonet service set identifier to Mean Hapanstance as well as making the password six consecutive ******
Esen listened to the explanation from the Hapan and weighed the decision.
“Do you offer measurement services? The wear would be for she and I.” She slides her way back to the side of Remalia.
“Maybe it’d be best if I were to talk to a tailor first. Do you know if B’ak’s or Suits Me Well has options for accessories?”
“H-however I do like these fabrics here.” She walks over and points to a section of darker wool rolls.
“B’ak can make you anything you might want, as long as it’s either fabric or leather. Suits carries accessories but doesn’t do custom work for those.” The faintest smile appeared on Auren’s face before returning to its normal passive appearance. “You have a good eye; those are bolts of genuine Muunyak wool, hand-woven as a meditative practice at a monastery high in the mountains of Jelucan.” The Hapan narrowed her eyes for a moment, staring first at Esen then Remalia.
“For the both of you, if you’re looking for a dress we’d be talking probably six yards of fabric. Something more in the style of a suit or military dress uniform, closer to 7. I can set aside what you need until I hear from either B’ax or Suits.” <@147021450706944000>
“Yes, Military dress uniform style is closer to what I was thinking. About 7 yards for both then. It seems I need to go to both shops, however. I’ll tell one of them to contact you. Thank you so much for your time. You’ve been a huge help.” A small nod, and genuine smile.
She hooks her arm into Remalia’s.
Zig blinked, and while the spiteful side of her still wanted to stare daggers at Auren, it was thawed by watching how Esen stepped into the moment, was confident, and spoke what she wanted.
Proud, she thought. Esen might come off as rigid and sticking to the safety of chain of command and what she knew. But Zig could start to see through it now- see what Nathan had likely seen.
Good job, Pantman, she nodded to herself as she slowly retreated towards the exit, not trying to draw attention away from Esen and Remalia and what she’d accomplished.
Remy inclines her head in thanks to the merchant and makes sure Nathan and Zig are accompanying before motioning Esen to take their exit. Just because she was indulging frivolity didn’t mean she also needed to be wasting time.
“You froze,” she said quietly after the pair had turned to the exit, “she was rude once, and you were ready to abandon your goal to immediately get to work, despite already convincing me to go along with it. I fear I will never understand why you bend to some things so quickly, but are so stubborn in other matters.”
A few steps pass in silence before Remy realises how rude she had just been.
“And, ahh… good catch on her direction to the casino. I was confused as to why she was suggesting we could get accessories there.” <@267489687902486530> <@432543120635461643> <@189568236201705472>
Esen matched Remy’s quiet tone, as they turned and walked. Presumably to the Casino or to one of the two tailors.
“I- Yes, I froze.” She sighs,
“She was a bit rude to you, mainly because you had spoke first. I’m sure it would have been me, if I had chosen to speak. Unfortunately, I was- …am uncomfortable. I didn’t like how she was speaking to you, and shopping can be done anywhere and isn’t that important to me. I wanted to leave as soon as possible to protect you- … in a way.”
She walks along side Remy for a few seconds, only hearing their boots along the ground.
Tilting her head slightly to the side. The direction of Remy.
“Though I do appreciate you giving me the little nudge. I needed that. I wouldn’t have gotten anything had you not. I thank you.”
“Huh? Eh, omgoshyouaresoador-” Dusa didn’t get to finish her rambled sentence when she saw what it was that the merqaal was hiding from. Unable to shoo it away, something else had spooked it, the shriek turned very few heads but people kept walking on.
“OH! You are so cute to-” It seems to be the day of intrupption as her smile went from small to wide, from ear to ear and uplifted her cheeks when she saw Wyn.
“WYYYYYYNNNN!” She quickly stepped up to him, grabbed his arm, and kissed him on the cheek, “Look! Yes, new friend! She’ll be Lady Hatchetina of Sharp Scales! Hello, Sir Axelot!!” She released Wyn from her grip and squatted down to the pair, arms open for them to jump on.
“Guess what,” Her grey eyes glanced up to Wyn quickly and then to the couple of Marqaals. She spoked in a hushed but clear tone for Wyn to hear her, “I’m on a super duper wuper axecellent top secret mission right now, and you three can help me execute it!!”
Remy side eyes Esen for a moment before stopping outside the shop to wait for the others.
“I have difficulty interacting with people correctly, I am not weak. I have spent most of the time in my life with people who want me dead, or more often, worse. Most people are rude from time to time. The best response is simply to let it pass, so long as they do not intend to actually do you harm. To let an unkind word from someone change your actions is to be rules by the whim of a stranger.”
She unhooks her cane and looks around, trying to spot where the tailors shop is with unhurried movements.
“You be my heart, I’ll be your spine. But we do have an actual job today, so we should probably move on for now.”
Zig stomped out, “dragging” Nathan behind her. “Alright, well. No new information on the Heart of Alos or The Guardian. If she knew anything, we’d probably have to have squeezed it out of a rock or something.”
She tapped her chin with a sharp claw-like fingernail. “Where to next…” she mused as she tapped her datapad.
Hod Haran’s Folly Level One Casino Row
The casino floor was jam-packed. The sabacc tables in the pit were like little islands, around which flowed streams of jocund humanoids of every colour and shape. Each being here had their own story, their own thread connecting them to the Galaxy, and given enough time and credits the man from Tralus would’ve stayed to listen to all their adventures.
But all that melted away on the sabacc table, where all that mattered was the crisp rat-a-tat of riffled cards. Between the sounds of the droids whizzing by, the dull pounding of the background music, and the loud and slurred speech of the patrons - the casino was filled with a familiar chorus. The trills and jangles of the slot machines, the clink of credit chips, and the excited prattling of at least a dozen different languages, all gathered together to create a nostalgic ambiance for the man in the center of the room. Seated at one of these sabacc tables sat Lontra Boglach who remained concentrated on his cards while he ignored the serving droids pushing their blue drinks and high roller specials. Yet, his focus on the rotating value of his cards was briefly broken when a new contender climbed into the seat beside him.
Normally Lontra wouldn’t have paid the individual any attention, everyone was welcome to lose at his table. However, the gaunt face of the gangly creature proceeded to stare at the man as if waiting to be addressed. Lontra broke his stare briefly to acknowledge the figure before returning to his hand. However, the Pau’an let a sigh slide past her sharp, jagged teeth as if she was disappointed with the man from Tralus.
“Are you sure you’re at the right table?” She said with an edginess that matched her teeth.
Snooty.
Yes, if he was only allowed to use one word to describe the Pau’an before him; Lontra would probably use the word snooty. Lontra hadn’t met any Pau’an who hadn’t been snooty. Let’s face it, no one ever invited a Pau’an to a party expecting them to be the highlight of the night; most likely you were cursing yourself to hear about how best you could have arranged the two types of chips you put out or how they could have saved you a half credit off your purchases. On top of this, in Lontra’s mind, there wasn’t a force-sensitive Pau’an who didn’t end up a Sith. It probably wasn’t the most Jedi-like behaviour to think like this but Lontra was pretty sure that the Pau’an would’ve been quick to point out Lontra wasn’t a “proper” Jedi anyways.
Grabbing one of the blue concoctions from a cart that motored by, Lontra took a heavy drink to help clear the lump in his throat. Beside him, the Pau’an had started to turn away as if she had lost interest in the man. However, the glimpse of a triangle on the passcard hanging from her neck prompted Lontra to continue the conversation with a change in tone.
“Can’t say for certain, I don’t really know what I’m doing.” Lontra shot back at the Pau’an, placing down a 3 value card following his previous 2 value. A single card remained in the man’s hand, accompanied a mischievous grin.
“Says the man about to play an Idiot’s Array?” The Pau’an woman said with a scoff before letting a smirk cross her face as she leaned into Lontra’s ear. Lontra could feel his face redden as a proposition was made and quickly the man leaned in towards the comlink on his collar.
“To anyone receiving, I need an adult to accompany me.”
Having piqued the man’s interest, the Pau’an slowly stood up and slunk away leaving behind a slip of paper on the table. There was clearly some writing on it, but while given the circumstances it may have lead one to expect it to be a comms code, what instead was scrawled down in slowly bleeding ink seemed to be a list of locations around The Gravant - “With gambling skills like that, maybe you should consider knitting!” - and a time associated with each location. None of the other players at the sabacc tables seemed to have paid any attention to the interaction, nor to the message now left in front of Lontra.
Esen nodded with a sincere yet somber smile to Remalia’s statement.
“Apologies for taking up time, Zepheroph. We were pointed in the direction of the Casino.” She pauses, contemplating, weighing the option of speaking again or not. Ultimately she decided, and pipped up,
“Though I would like to go to both tailors at some point today.” Quickly responded with, “D-doesn’t need to be right away. Ma’am.”
Mentally kicking herself for wording things improperly, and hoped she didn’t come off pushy.
Zig grinned, eyes flashing with…something that was a mixture of excitement and enjoyment. “Sounds like a plan!”
Remy nods slowly, “buisiness first, then. En…joyment later. To the casino then, this shouldn’t take too long, one way or another.”
With long but slow strides, Remy begins moving in a measured way that makes her look almost like she is gliding away under her greatcoat, the only sound the clicking of her cane on the hard floor.
“I hope none of you are gamblers. I claim many things are a waste, but gambling is especially so. Best just to spend money on your own horse to ride.”
“Not quite a gambler myself, my brother was though.” A slight peak of sadness encompassed her features before she quickly replaced it with the cool unmoving, unfaltering mask she had before.
“Casino first.” She nodded in agreement.
“Following your lead.” Another swift nod.
The golden entryway to The Gravant - “If you’ve got a pulse, we’ll take your money!” - was an assault on as many senses as could be managed at once. Bright light reflected off a golden archway and refracted through a cool, sandalwood-scented mist into a panoply of rainbows highlighting a thick red carpet. From within the doorway, the sounds of thousands of gambling machines blasted out into the walkway, dials spinning, coins tinkling. Just past the entryway, seemingly endless rows of slot machines held the rapt attention of dumbstruck individuals, mindless hauling away at the levers and staring excitedly as images slotted into place…only to be mocked by a buzzer indicating a failure to win. Above every row were clearly posted the odds of victory, and for anyone with even a basic understanding of math it was clear they were positively abysmal. And yet somehow, nearly every machine was occupied, as far back as they stretched. Past those machines were tables for games more oriented toward skill, though still heavily reliant on luck. Sabacc, pazaak, jubilee wheel, and even a few dejarik tables were being occupied by avid gamblers. .
All the way at the back of the main hall, through another golden archway supporting a red velvet curtain, a small selection of sabacc tables were much less populated than the ones up front. Each table hosted just a few individuals, most in what would be immediately evident to be high-quality clothing. On a large, lush couch at one of the tables sat a man. To say he stood out among the others in the high-rollers section would be an understatement. He was dressed in a shiny, silver suit and matching wingtip shoes, and sporting a pair of extremely gaudy sunglasses the lenses of which were both the golden triangle emblem with stylized eye the operatives had been instructed to look for. A wide grin shined out from within his well-groomed facial hair as he pushed a large pile of chips forward, leaning into the motion to briefly loom wide in the view of his opponent.
“Casinos, one of the most evil businesses in the galaxy,” Remy moved forward, her cane now silent on the carpeted floors, “every light, drink, and visible surface is directed towards getting you to gamble, but they cheat when they can, and ban you when they can’t.”
Remy surprisingly looked more in her element here. Despite wearing a military uniform, without rank signifies she just looked formal. Plus the cane, she could be some low level dignitary.
“Do you all see the target up at the tables at the back? One of us will have to grab him in between irrepably bankrupting people not on the casinos good list. Best not to approach him as a group.”
Zig tapped a claw-like nail to her chin. “Since I assume the old black bag and whap to the back of the head won’t work…could try to slice his comm and steer him to where we want him?”
Despite Remalia fitting in, Esen on the other hand, did not. Sporting her classic public attire, consisting of a white tee shirt tucked neatly into dark green tactical pants. The outfit embellished with dark tactical boots and a belt, of which was tightened neatly around her waist.
Never quite leaving Remalia’s side as she entered the building. Keeping her posture as straight as her unmoving mask. She made quick work of tracking all the entrances and exits, as well as sweeping the room for cameras, stairs, and elevators.
“Forgive me for stepping out of line here, Ma’am. Would it not be best to stay undercover by, ah, er- challenging him to a game of Sabacc?” She pauses for a moment.
“Using the disguise of one of us being an over eager gambler and wanted to try out going against one of the big guns for the first game?”
“I… concur,” Remy said, side eyeing Zig, “these agents are supposed to be helping us anyway. Kidnapping or convoluted slicing would be overkill, in addition to getting him to treat us like that last clerk.”
Zig grumbled. “Fine, fine, you and your logic. Fun ruiners,” she agreed. “I’m an engineer, though. Cards never has been my strong suite…”
Remy scratches her head a bit as she looks around the sprawling forest of flashing lights and glittering metal.
“I can gamble well enough at games that actually require skill. But we have to actually get information out of him, or at least get him somewhere we can talk straight out. That I am less accomplished. And we cant really all go there as a group, at least not all at once.”
“Cards have never been my strong suit either, as I don’t have much experience, but seems like it, may… be an interesting challenge? I can go up, sit at the table, place a few bets down, and talk to him in between rounds. Though I absolutely expect to lose all my credits.” A slight amused exhale.
“Unless… You would like to Remalia?”
Remy closes her eyes for a second and blows a breath out her nose.
“Fine I guess I can try to play. But it would be best if I was a distraction and one of you tried to take advantage. I’ll need shades if any of you have them.”
Remy takes off her overcoat and passes it to Esen to cover up her obviously military looking uniform.
“Put this on. Have you ever seen a spy holovid? The high rollers always have at least one person on their arm, so I can get one of you close to him. While I force his attention, you can try to get close and pry.”
An anguished cry sounded from beyond the curtain, and the grinning man leaned back onto his couch.
“I am afraid sometimes that is just the way it goes, my friend,” he casually drawled as the dealer robot pushed the pile of chips across the table toward him. “Some days, you eat the bear. Most days, the bear eats you.” As the crestfallen Aqualish stood from the sabacc table and made his way out of the high-roller lounge, the human withdrew a golden cigarette case from within his bright silver suit jacket and withdrew a long, thin cigarillo. The spindly droid wearing a clearly custom-tailored tailcoat which stood to one side of his couch held out a lighter in order to ignite the tobacco.
“Anyone else looking to have a go today? I still feel like indulging a bit, but there is little point in me just playing against the house…”
“I did not bring mine today.” She said as she took Remalia’s coat, flinging it around over her shoulders, threading her arms through the sleeves, before lightly tugging it at her waist, to straighten it out.
“Which is suprising that Vox let me leave without them. I managed to sway him, after I told him I didn’t want them when I was working.” A brief pause,
“An oversight on my end. Apologies.”
“Are the shades crucial to what you are needing them for? We could always go out and pick up a pair, the hapan said… Suits Me Well has the best selection of accessories. Unless-” Pausing for a moment,
“Zepheroph, do you have a pair?”
<@189568236201705472>
“What makes you think I just walk around with spare pairs of shades?” Zig/Zepheroph replied dismissively.
Then proceeded to reach into her bag and produce a few pairs. “A lady never goes out unprepared, or something…”
Remy rolls up her sleeves and moves her bun to a slightly lower position before taking one of the pairs of shades and puts it on. The effect makes her not look unlike someone wealthy trying to hide it, but you could also make an argument for “hitman” or “bodyguard.”
“Alright. One of you will be my plus one, the others trail in to be additional players. That should give us a spread of options for speaking to the agent with distractions for any competitors. Hopefully, I will be attracting enough attention for that much. Sound ideal?”
Zig glanced at Esen, flashed a devilish smirk, and nudged her towards Remalia. “So cute together!” she declared, clapping her hands excitedly. “Don’t hate the player hate the game,” she stuck her tongue out and pulled out a sabaac playing card.
The Zygerrian held back, trying to look casual by idly twirling the card between her fingers. It fell, and she swore silently to herself as she scrambled to pick it up.
“If by that you mean you want to be a player, then go ahead and join, we will follow after. I need to get a substantial amount of chips to waste.”
With that, Remy turned and headed to the desk to the side of the front entrance, where she was planning on emptying a painfully large portion of her savings for the sake of a likely fake mission.
Remalia approached the exchange counter and was greeted by an enthusiastic Zeltron in a burgundy vest and black slacks, the standard employee uniform of The Gravant - You can risk it all, we’ll pay for your shameful cab ride home! - which had been seen on the few attendants roaming about. She indicated toward the scanner for Remalia to provide her account and, once scanned, before even being told anything pulled a decent sized tray from beneath the desk and began filling it with a variety of stacks of colorful plastic chips.
“Here is your allotted monthly stipend of 250,000 credits worth of chips. Please let me know if you would like to exchange for more. Otherwise,” the smile didn’t waver although the Zeltron’s brow furrowed a bit with concentration as they clearly tried to remember some sort of specific script or trained communication she had, “ahem ‘go waste it all you incompetent buffoon.’” A cheerful wave accompanied this bizarre admonishment.
Remy tried not to start or stare, instead opting to hook her cane and pick up the tray.
“That is always the goal of a gambler, whether they know it or not. Do you know anything of the… gentleman at the back there? I plan to play him.”
The attendant leaned out a little to see past Remalia down the length of the casino toward the high-roller area, in order to figure out who she was being asked about. As she caught sight of the flashy suit and outlandish sunglasses she simply nodded to herself and it seemed like just acknowledging the presence of that individual drained a bit of the perky energy from her.
“Oh. Him.” Even the professionally plastered-on smile cracked a bit. “He’s some sort of big player, always in here throwing around ridiculous amounts of cash and making a ruckus. We lost one of our best bartenders - retired because he got tipped a million credits by the walking disco ball for, and I quote, ‘pouring the perfectly ratioed abrax and soda’. He literally just dumped the whole can of soda water into a double shot of abrax.” The Zeltron shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head to the side a bit.
“He never really causes any problems, and has been really nice to everyone - the staff, the other gamblers, even the service droids. But he’s just kinda a lot to deal with and all of us are really tired…”
“So he bets a lot but doesn’t care if he loses it. Gambling itself does not draw his attention. Thank you for this information.”
Remy straightens with her tray of entirely too many chips, turning to move back to where she had left the rest of her group.
Esen adjusts the long coat as Remalia joins back up with the group.
“Chips - check. Coat - check. Shades - check.” Her eyes darting to the tray and coat as she takes inventory.
She held the folded closed sunglasses vertically, using the lens as a make shift mirror. Before intentionally, carefully, pulling out a bundle of hair from her bun, on the sides of her ears, twirling it in her fingers before releasing it. It framed her face nicely, a tight curl, spiraling down to her jaw. Then she slide Zig’s extra pair of sunglasses on. Sucking in her lips slightly, before releasing, producing a small pop, as if she had just put on lipgloss. Somewhat attempting to make her visibly fit in more.
“Okay, Widowmaker, I’ll be your plus one, and Ma’am Zepheroph will trail in slightly after as a second player, yes?” A nod.
“If we are all good to go, please lead the way, Milady.” Extending her arm outwards in a slight dip.
Zig adjusted her shades, and slipped in some chewing gum she had found, working her jaw muscles and falling back on her backwater upbringing. Zepheroph was cool as cucumber.
Remy moves the tray to one hand and lides the other arm into Esens.
“It seems like our target doesn’t care much about losing money, so the game shouldn’t distract him too much. Good luck to you all on getting the information, the mission truly starts now.”
As the group passed beneath the curtained archway into the VIP area, they found the man once again lounging draped across the couch at the far end of the table. A KX-series droid in finely tailored livery was fastidiously dusting down the other chairs at the table, making sure that they were presented in pristine condition. A giggle trickled forward from the Nautilan attendant with whom the shiny-suited human was casually chatting. Whether it was genuine or simply performative as part of her job was anyone’s guess, but neither case seemed to deter the man from flashing a grin from beneath his far-too-gaudy sunglasses and following up what had apparently been the punchline to a rather bawdy joke. From the corner of his eye he caught the group approaching and with a casual wave sent the attendant on her way before turning to face the new arrivals.
“Hello hello hello there,” a gentle drawl flowed forth with a little bit of a low rasp on the backend as he spoke. “Please, pull up a seat. Looking to try your luck?” He gestured toward the tray of chips Remy was carrying, past the significant pile splayed out on the table before him. “I will not discourage you from the attempt, though I rather think you may be disappointed in the result.” He sat up and leaned forward, an immense feeling of pressure seeming to radiate from him across the table. He slowly pulled the ridiculous glasses away from his face so his intense green eyes could be seen, the slight golden flecks in them seeming to burn like the sun as he looked each of the gathered crew in the eyes. .
“Then again…perhaps you will not be. After all, your goal here is not this pitiful game of chance.” A swipe of his arm and the chips piled before him clattered to the floor. “You are here at the behest of the blind eye that sees all; a certain item to be retrieved from the vaults here, a vague goal dangled before you like the proverbial carrot to keep you moving.” He stood, kicking free several thousand credits worth of chips as he strode around the table, smiling at Zig as he moved past her. “Your time here has been a wild mynock chase, I am afraid, though far from useless. ‘The Heart of Alos’ does not exist, at least not in any particular tangible form. It was always a red herring, an unattainable endpoint for a test of skills.”
The KX droid had fallen into place behind him now as the man reached the archway, loosening the tie on the curtain to cause it to fall closed. The droid crossed to the other side and did likewise, obscuring the high-roller area from the main floor and deadening the sound far more than it seemed the mere curtains should have done. He turned once again to address the assembled Qel-Dromans, arms spread wide in a gesture of openness. .
“The point of all this was always twofold, though neither of them was ever truly about obtaining some bauble. The first was to give you a chance to relax and enjoy yourselves. I understand you spent some time in the shopping district - an excellent choice, I find myself utilizing their services quite often.” What tension there had been seemed to slowly drain as he spoke, now being more free and open since things had been obscured from the public eye. “The second was, in perhaps some ironic way, the opposite. To bring you out of your comfort zone, to make you approach things in a way you otherwise might not.”
His steps brought him across again to the couch, his hand sliding beneath his silver coat and extracting something from within it. His hands moved nimbly, still concealing just what it was he was working with as he continued.
“Not every mission will always be about getting from point A to point B by the most direct route, and sometimes you will have to think a little deeper about just what it is you are really intended to do.” His hands came to rest in clear view atop the sabacc table now, each sporting a ring it had not before. On the right, the emblem of House Qel-Droma in beautiful amethyst inset in a golden ring. The left hand…rubies laid out in the insignia of the Blind Man inset in a stark onyx ring. .
“Not everything is always as simple as it first appears. Sometimes the value we derive from something is in the pursuit, not the attainment. I am afraid the time we have for this training exercise is quite rapidly drawing to a close; there are many important things for all of us to get to, and only so much of the day left to get to them.” The grin which spread across the face of Alex Draconis - Quaestor of House Qel-Droma, the Blind Man himself - still carried a joviality and warmth to it, but somehow seemed overlaid with a passive menace. The rasp which had been just a slight background of his voice until now seemed to grow to be the dominant tone now as the words scraped forth from between his lips. “Do we have any questions?”
Esen followed suit behind Remalia as they approached the room, she trailed in behind, head held high, not wanting to draw attention to herself but kept a watchful eye, darting between the pair before settling on Alex.
When he called out their plan, like he had eyes and ears all over, and flung the chips off the table, a sense of unease fell upon her, and her heart rate increased. Her eyes locked in on him now as she watched him shuffle his way to the curtain and drape it closed. She slowly moved her arm to hover just over her holstered blaster, should she need it.
Her eyebrows scrunching in confusion listening to the words he was stating, but otherwise didn’t let any emotion show across her face.
She mulled over his words, looking at the rings, taking a moment to think, for all the thoughts and questions, to finally click into place.
“This was all just a test. An unobtainable item.” Her eyes darted around to each person in the room. The last of the mental puzzle pieces snapping into place. Finally, letting that mask crack, and a bright big grin spread across her face. Her shoulders go lax, and she lowers her hand slowly from the holster.
“I dare say, hats off to you, good Sir. I have been properly fooled! I have not quite had a test like this before.” She gives off a proper hearty laugh, the ones that rumble from deep inside the belly.
“I do have one question to ask you.” Her eyes dart to the tray Remalia is carrying, and to the chips that now lay scattered across the floor. An evil smirk spreads its way across her face,
“Up for a game of Sabacc?”