Bright Lights, Bigger City [Open Club Thread]

[Mishel Kryze]

Mishel faded away into the crowd, she disappeared into the background. A girl in a dress who was not eager to get friendly with anyone, she instead studied @Alkor Centaris and @Samka Derith. The young brunette quelled any desire to approach Sam, to gather the courage to ask her for a dance. Although she wondered where [member="FN-9999"] had disappeared off to and wondered if the blonde would give her a call. It was not hard to miss the Knight of Ren's purple hair as she headed off with the small man called Alkor. She had only seen him briefly at the Monastery and even then she still needed to search the holonet just to confirm who she was seeing. Then out of the corner of her eye as she had just settled into a sofa, she noticed @Enyo Typhos, if only because she looked exactly like her mother. Only she wasn't, her eyes marked all the things that were off about the woman. Her mother had red hair for one, and her mother held something more and what it was - she couldn't place or remember it.

The beat of the house's music began to drown out all the sounds, and soon the only thing she could hear was her own tragedy. There were a million reasons for her to not be here, there were a million reasons for her to escape the pounding bass and the glittering lights. And yet there were a million reasons for her to stay, the young Ren looked over at a passing waitress and set her glass down on the tray. "No thank you," she dismissed the woman's attempts to sell her another drink. Five would be the limit and as it was, she wondered how much longer she could stay. Without making it absolutely necessary to get assistance out of the club. Her neurotransponder kept her upright, kept her walking and feeling and it made her feel whole. Her eyes drifted up from the first floor to the second. Rising from the seat, she headed for the bar, "actually, here." She handed him a credstick.

"Don't charge my mother's account, last thing I need is her finding out I was here... this way," she added and took the credstick back just as soon as the bartender was done. She crossed for the door and paused a moment, she watched [member="Kaiden Rohn"] and then her eyes drifted back toward Sam and Alkor. Mishel had every right to leave, turning around she did her best swag walk (which let's face it, she'd only ever seen [member="Ara Ren"]'s swag walk). Just as she headed for Kaiden, her eyes caught sight of one [member="Connor Harrison"], kark it all. How many Ren were going to drown their sorrows tonight? Mishel cleared her throat and grabbed drink number six from another roaming tray as the blue and purple hue of dancing lights danced across her black dress. Quite innocently, she bumped into the man, "oh I'm so, so, sorry please excuse me." She said to him and then made her way to Connor. "Connor, oh my word how are you? Well, I can see we're certainly hitting it hard tonight, whisky?" Note to Mishel to thank her lucky stars, that for all the tinkering Seiger Ren had done being able to remember and mimic her brothers and sisters had been left untouched.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“I have a feeling that’s because there aren’t many slaves like me.”, he said with a slow drawl, letting smoke roll with each word. A soft grin would meet her gaze before he responded to her actual question;

“I’m here aren’t I? Miss Perl, I can’t help but think you’re interrogating me.”, he said with the same flirtatious coyness he had at the beginning of the conversation.

Perhaps it was because his attention span was trivial in his hazy state, or because he simply couldn’t get the idea of what she looked like under those clothes off his mind, but he obviously lost whatever emotional theme his words held only a moment ago. Still, even despite this there was a tiredness in his eyes, not one of the physical sort but of the emotional, the bygone ages he didn’t speak of. The memories he buried far deeper than the feelings he drowned in alcohol.

Still, despite his somewhat ‘innocent’ personality and demeanor, there was a strange sensation around him. A slow churn of the force that was latent, ever flowing like a tide, yet never seemed to bother himself. In every few moments it’s surge higher, then fall back to the still rumble it was only moments before; an ever repeating cycle that had been going on since the beginning of their conversation.

He however, didn’t notice it.

Instead, he sipped merrily on the drink she brought him, reveling in the fact that it was free for the sake of the moment. Not to mention it tasted better than most of the things he’d been putting in his mouth lately.

│ [member="Joza Perl"] │

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"No worries," he replied off the cuff when [member="Samka Derith"] thanked him for the offer to dance. She led the way toward the dance floor with a purposed grace, and he wondered whether it was an instinctual response, or a trained reaction. Her breath touched his ear, and he bit back the instinctual drive to remove her from his personal space. It was an actual gesture of gratitude, whether or not he fully understood what she was thanking him for. Instead of repeating himself and assuring her there was no need, he simply nodded.

As they reached the dance floor, the last of the rowdy brawlers were cleared out of Blush and the atmosphere slowly gravitated back toward a laid back night club vibe. On cue, the DJ decided that it was the perfect time to start appealing to many young people's whims and playing the sort of slow music that inspired couplings- or well, whatever normal people viewed as romantic.

Oblivious as ever, Alkor did not recognize the mood. Her hands were smaller than his, but not by much. He was only a few feet taller than she was, and not much heavier. He held out his right hand for her to take, which she might notice was covered by a gauntlet. More curious than that, he did not close his hand around hers- he simply held his hand out and allowed it to be held. A trained eye would recognize the tech- a Mandalorian Crushgaunt.

His other hand touched the small of her back, high enough that it would not be considered audacious or like an advance. 'Too many men take the opportunity to play grab ass' (Eversio had been such an inspired instructor when it came to social grace and the subtleties of aristocracy), he recalled from what training he had in the art of dance.

He knew enough to lead, and so, he did. It was the first time outside of an assassination that he had ever used the knowledge. "There are some scary people in places like these," he said lazily, possibly the most ironic statement in history. "Hopefully, you have some friends I can get you back to?" he asked politely. Nothing about her name, or his. No intention of making this meeting anything but chance, fleeting, and quick.

Gods, but that accent was horrible.

His turns were precise, if mechanical. The fluidity of his movements belied his natural agility, though the way he did everything methodically betrayed his unease with prolonged human contact. While he was a skilled actor, there were aspects of his personality- or lack thereof- he could not hide.

If the woman entertained any thoughts that his intentions were romantic, his demenor would quickly correct them.

 

[Connor Harrison]

A glass was placed down, and Connor nodded to whomever served, and took it straight back with a hiss. It certainly burnt.

Leaning on his elbows on the bar, he glanced up at the lights and lost himself in the hypnotic motion of them all, and the music that just blurred into one loud, diegetic noise. He caught sight of a body on one side, leaning in – a Zeltron. It was her! It was [member="Joza Perl"] finally here to…

No…no it wasn’t….her hair was….not that colour. Bianca. No idea.

Connor smiled and leaned in regardless.

"I’m Connor. Pleasure!"

He nodded, and held his hand up to signal he needed another, quickly. It seemed to be a night for attracting attention because another body shuffled along, this time with a hand on his shoulder. The light illuminated her face, but he knew it for definite. [member="Mishel Ren"] was back on her feet.

"Mishel, well look at you! Back on your feet and then some!"

He stood, nodding in thanks to the barman certainly earning his keep tonight. Looping an arm around Mishel’s shoulders, he turned and pointed to the Zeltron.

"Mishel, this is Bianca," he turned into her, "no idea so don’t worry…" then back to the Zeltron, "…Bianca this is Mishel, and she’s one of my own. So join me!"

He leant on the bar, still looped with Mishel.

"Glasses please!"

The more the merrier. What the hell. He had years of being a recluse to make up for.

"Mishel…are you better, are you ok? I thought you were gone, y’know. Don’t do that again!"

 

[Joza Perl]

Her senses had begun to extend out slowly, branching towards [member="The Slave"] at a careful pace so as to go undetected. His Force sensitivity did not catch her off guard, given that it was not improbable to find someone here with dormant ability. But was it entirely dormant? She did not ignore the possibility that he was skilled in suppressing his aura, but the further she subtly probed him, the less likely it seemed. Though primarily siding with the Light herself, the Zeltron leaned just enough into the Darkness to keep herself from fully harnessing certain techniques. She worked best with those that didn’t need an alignment, preferring to focus on more defensive abilities and mentalism.

Her own presence was unobtrusive but consistent, like a river carving a path through stone at its leisure.

But John Doe here seemed less experienced, latent ability pulsing with the Darkness she used to chase. It still lingered in the corner of her mind too, exacerbated by the death of her ex-lover, a Sith Lord she’d borne a child with.

Lithe pink fingers ran through his hair once. “No, no, I’m terrible at that. I’d rather people just tell me what I want to hear.” Wasn’t hard to separate out the lies being an empath, with the exception of Forcers using all sorts of tricks to obfuscate their thoughts and intentions. The hand came to rest at the top of the sofa between them. In truth, her focus was split like a fractal, alert enough from the cigarettes to keep Brunette Sio and [member="Sal Katarn"] on her radar.

A waitress approached her, handing Joza a small piece of folded paper with a blanched face. Brow arched, the Zeltron read the little note before her gaze flickered upwards and locked with that of [member="Enyo Typhos"]. Head tilted back so that she could speak to the waitress. “Tell her to give me twenty minutes then meet me in the VIP room.” She didn’t bother to lower her voice to a suspicious whisper, passing the piece of paper back to her and watching as the woman scurried back to Enyo, acting as a go-between.

Cigarette clenched between teeth in a moment of mild frustration. “You want a job?” The words were a little rough, though laced with good humor. It was a half serious offer. “Could use another bar tender. Or dancer, if you’ve got the moves.”

X

In the future…

The VIP room wasn’t exactly private, but it was cozier than the bustling club floor. Patrons kept to themselves in their little groups, and Joza had picked out a table far away from anyone else to the point where a conversation would not carry too far. Here, she would wait for Enyo with a bottle of whiskey and a pair of glasses where they could discuss business, presumably Siobhan. She wouldn’t settle for something completely private considering the hard, somewhat murderous stare she was being given before.

(OOC: Trying to do a present and slight future thing here so that I can continue stories with both of you!)

X

Bianca smiled brightly as she was well received by [member="Connor Harrison"]. She was never sure what sort of reaction she’d get, but the Zeltron had a preference from the broody loner types—then again, rejection for her was fairly rare. Like most of her race, she was naturally pretty and had the trademark pheromone allure. “Nice to meet you, Connor!”

She watched as [member="Mishel Ren"] appeared, tilting her head as she seemed to know her new friend. “Hi, Mishel!” She greeted just as brightly, giving the other woman a small wave. It seemed that Bianca naturally had a bubbly nature. She sipped idly at her drink, giving the pair a curious gaze as Connor slipped an arm over Mishel’s shoulders. “Are you two lovers?” She inquired with a pleasant tone. It wasn’t unusual to see off-world couples coming to Zeltros with the intent of spicing up their relationship. Unfortunately, sometimes the relationship never held up.

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Joza Perl"]


It always boiled down to Siobhan. Siobhan, the Dark Jedi Master and Ethereal Fist of Kaeshana - how had that worked out again? Not well! Even though her heroics had been impressive and made Enyo kind of jealous - etc. Siobhan, the queen of Firemane and Countess - yet as far as Enyo was concerned her family seemed more like annoying baggage and the space elf nobles kept backstabbing her. Should have purged and subjugated them ages ago. Annoying knife-ears.


Siobhan, whom Enyo deeply resented, did not understand and kind of admired, even though she'd never admit it. Siobhan was a sentimental, overly emotional idiot. Sometimes, Enyo still felt like breaking her. She still felt proud whenever her mirror ruined someone's day or wrecked something.


Enyo's mechanical limbs whirred and clanked as she made her way to the VIP room. There was no hiding her cybernetic nature and so she did not make much of an attempt. Other patrons populated the room and shot her a variety of looks, accompanied by whispers. Her aura and general demeanour radiated strong 'I'm a tough queen and can rip your head off' vibes. This, along with the patented icy death glare, shut them up sufficiently and they returned to whatever they were doing.


In most cases, their activities involved debauchery. The machine-woman moved with unerring precision towards the table the pink lady had claimed for them. The smell of whiskey and strong perfume filled her nostrils.

 

[Zaazz Amako]

(Sorry for the late arrival, I made my character for this.)

He entered the bar, and instantly was almost blinded by the lights. There were people and noise everywhere, and it was almost as crowded as Coruscant itself. Eventually, he adjusted to the light, noise, music, and crowding. He had just gotten a good pay for a bounty on a crime boss, and now he would use it well.

Eventually, he found a small bar with a variety of beers. A middle-aged human male, the bartender, walked up to him. He ordered a beer, and he paid up in credits. The man took the credits, went behind the shop, and was gone. He'd find that scammer eventually and shoot him good. For now, he didn't want to draw too much attention.

He walked across the vast building, trying to find another bar or store that he could spend his extra credits on. He sensed that areas like this would have lots of other bounty hunters, mercenaries, or even a Dark Jedi. Whoever or whatever was in here, he was sure he could somehow get around it.

 

[Subject 37]

First Floor

Slevin stepped through the doors of Club Blush with the immediate stale scent of unwashed bodies and alcohol striking him in the face.

His nose crinkled almost immediately, his silhouette lingering within the doorway for just a moment as he acclimated himself to the smells of the nightclub. The lingering aroma was of course found all over this world and the galaxy over, the scent of youth unabashed by its surroundings. There was something desperate about it, reminding Slevin that those within these walls were most often simply trying to lose themselves. They were either hiding or running away, whether it was from their books or whatever else the young so detested. For a moment he simply stood there, taking in the view ahead of him.

Bright lights clashed with the moon outside, beating hearts of neon blue, green, and red shifting over the faces of those inside. He waited a moment more until a Waitress passed him by. She wandered, her gaze falling upon him, lingering for just a second too long.

Her cheeks brightened, and swiftly she looked away as Slevin caught her gaze. The Crime Lord didn't blame her, after all he did seem rather out of place. His clothes, as ever, were hardly simple, and as he stepped inside the jacket that hung from his shoulders seemed to clash with those around him. His suit stood out, causing some in the crowd to give him curious glares as he parted his way through them. He made no move to force his way, instead simply pressing those ahead of him aside when they did not move.

He spoke no words, and quickly enough he found his way towards one of the bars at the end of the room.

The woman behind it gave him another curious glance, though a bite of her tongue was enough to silence any questions. "Tatooine Sunrise."

He told the woman, his words a bare rasp over the sound of the music.

"And a Desolra." The woman nodded, apparently needing no explanation to fetch him the cigar. Perhaps out of place on this level of Blush, but she knew enough not to question. A moment later she returned, placing the drink and the smoke in front of him.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

His eyes closed with a pleasant expression plastered alive, he didn’t stop her from running a hand through his alabaster hair. He wasn’t naturally silver, but the work done to it was exceptional; at least as far as he remembered. The night it went from an deep auburn to an ashy white was a blur now, especially in his current situation. With her hand moving to rest on the couch between him, his own hand fell onto hers, index finger intertwining with her own.

Before he could have a chance to respond to her however, the waitress approached and gave her the note [member="Enyo Typhos"] had couriered. Following her locked gaze, The Slave witnessed her reaction to this abstract figure in the distance, a hard stare among a crowd of drug fiends -

“Tell her to give me twenty minutes then meet me in the VIP room.”

“Cutting our visit short?”

His voice was a mixture of alcohol driven buzzing and a vibrant jubilance you’d only find in a club. It was soft, yet never ceased the harsh nature of who he was. Something she could obviously tell, with her sensitivity to the force. It was obvious he was a novice, but while most acolytes carried a soft trickle he seemed to carry a hard and unrepressed surge the deeper she focused on it. A sentient energy that watched her, a violent stare that would drive a chill into her spine.

It watched her with a lustful intensity that sought blood.

And yet he watched her with something softer, a quiet appreciation that was only made so much more obvious by a drunken stupor made manifest in a cocked grin and flirtatious tone. His face illuminated in the light of his cigarillo in a nearly rhythmic beat, every inhale mixed with a heavy cloud of drug infused smoke.

“I’m not looking for a job. Probably wouldn’t show up for it either.”

With a come-hither stare, his tone arced as he spoke once more, a less than subtle quip of a flirt;

“But if you’re trying to see my dance, I could show you what I can do.”

│ [member="Joza Perl"] │

 

[Joza Perl]

“Being in charge has its drawbacks.” Or benefits, depending on how you saw it. She may have been constantly on the go, bouncing from one project to another, but Joza was the sort of person who thrived in that type of lifestyle.

Her focus on [member="The Slave"] was from behind a glass wall. Restraint was necessary, given her penchant for chasing Darkness. She’d learned her lessons the hard way, but still she couldn’t help but wonder what the attention on John Doe’s life was centered towards. Was he one of those who just rode the waves wherever they took him, simply existing and experiencing for the sake of it?

Green eyes met each other as she returned his coquettish stare, her own gaze far more passive and mild. "Then show me.” The words slipped past her lips, one shapely pink leg crossing over the other. “I want to see how you move, John Doe.”

X

Brunette Siobhan certainly made herself an entrance without much trying, her form drawing glances from some of the nearby patrons in the VIP room. It didn’t take much for her to get them to turn back to their own conversations, albeit with a bit more nerves this time around.

Joza watched [member="Enyo Typhos"] approach from her perch, smiling brightly against the other woman’s natural glower. Now that they were closer and free of much of the club’s background noise, the faint whirr of Enyo’s cybernetics tickled Joza’s ears. “Welcome to the VIP room. Can I offer you a drink?” Pouring them both a glass of the dark amber liquid, she offered the cyborg a cup. Her demeanor was pleasant and polite, unperturbed with Enyo’s severe aura though she certainly did keep it in mind.

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?”

 

[Enyo Typhos]

[member="Joza Perl"]


Enyo scrutinised Joza in the manner a predator would, as if trying to assess the danger she might pose and scanning her for possibly concealed weapons. Should it come to a fight, she was confident that she could physically overpower the other woman.


However, the Zeltron's lithe, nimble body would make her far more agile than the cyborg. Of course, this only went so far in enclosed quarters, especially since the VIP room was filled with guests. Enyo did not care about collateral damage. But her opponent might.


The mini disruptor hidden inside her palm could be a nasty surprise. At least this was the assessment of the clone. Her analysis of the situation might be more than a little biased. Especially since she was unfamiliar with the other woman's skill set when it came to Force powers. The cyborg sat down. She scanned the drink, as if she could somehow assess whether it was poisoned or not. Then she finally picked it up and took a sip.


"Thank you. You stared at me because I look like her. I'm used to it," she concealed it well, but sounded just a little weary of it. It was not rocket science to figure out who she meant. "What's your connection to her? Are you one of 'her' girls?" Her aura continued to be as severe as ever. There was a cold chill to her tone.

 

[Kuzo]

"Well, if you are half as talented as handsome, then you should consider the First Order," she said, her voice solemn but a teasing grin flickering across her lips despite the very serious expression she tried to hold.

Beyond the teasing, she was feeling warm from the first drink. The second arrived with impeccable timing and she raised the glass to [member="Viktor Alexander"] before taking a sip.

"I cannot speak for pilots specifically, I'm in the civilian sector myself," she added, no longer joking specifically.

"But the First Order military is always looking for new talent."

Irajah stirred the drink absently, a slightly thoughtful expression crossing her face for a heartbeat. With the war ongoing with the Galactic Alliance, it wasn't a gamble to assume they would be seeking recruits. She would be happy to never patch up a wounded soldier for the rest of her days, but events often dictated ones actions, rather than the other way around.

"Besides, Avalonia is lovely this time of year."

[member="Darlyn Excron"]

 

[Darth Empyrean]

A soft hum reverberated from the depths of his throat, a joyous purring at her nimble response. In one fluid movement, he downed the rest of his drink, set his cigarello back between his lips, and stood; offering her a hand and a cocked half grin, his emerald iris betrayed what he was to say long before the words left his mouth.

“Then perhaps we should go somewhere you can enjoy it a bit better…”, the words trailed off his tongue like the notes of a musical.

His other hand moved to cup her ear as he leaned in to speak in a hushed tone. The heat of his breath danced across her skin before he spoke, the gentle caress of their cheeks sending careless sensations to the core of their souls;

“Somewhere private, perhaps.”

Each syllable arched between them, a subtle voltage made of passion and tension. Without them, there was a cold hesitation that filled the small vacuum between his lips and her ear, a loneliness only just discovered and left hanging like the first night in a high security prison. As it seemed to reach its climax, a few seconds that lasted an eternity, The Slave turned just barely.

His lips traced themselves across her skin, from the corner of her jaw to the earlobe before he stopped and broke a wide grin. He pulled away, slowly, to let what he had just done settle in the recesses of her mind. If nothing more, he was a man who liked to drag things out, and perhaps this is what exactly what he intended.

Viridescent eyes met emerald oceans, the stare of two juggernauts caught in an arena; a challenge he nearly commanded she meet. His brow cocked, lips parted and wide, what existed between them in those drawn out seconds was eternity. One of endless chances, possibilities, and futures; stories that know one would know, those that would never be told, and the ones that would never happen.

What stood before her was more than just a man with a loose shirt, a devilishly coy grin, and ashy hair; but the endless destinies she had yet to meet. A fork in the road personified.

│ [member="Joza Perl"] │

 

[Mishel Kryze]

"No, not lovers - that's a uh, that's not happening," Mishel laughed nervously and looked over at Connor. "Well it's a thing that happens when you try to fix the roof and fall off." She cleared her throat and took to drink number six. "Bianca, mhmm?" The club was loud and noisy and she just hoped to stay long enough to enjoy it. The vat-grown ren could play the part of a socialite but ask her to do more and she was out of luck. Checking the time, she wondered where Kaalia had gone off to. Her second thought was how to get back to Monastery, she had to go there to get her back checked out and with luck talk to Alkor and head down to start her quest to collect materials. Materials to craft lightsabers and sell them for a price or two higher than normal, "and what may I ask draws you here tonight, Connor?"

[member="Connor Harrison"] | [member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Connor recoiled, shaking his head, and giving a confused look to [member="Mishel Ren"] beside him.

"Lovers. No no no no no…not that. Just allies. Friends. Broken people. All good." He rubbed her shoulder and took his arm around her and helped himself to his re-filled drink. "I’ve been…busy. Falling into a little more of dark despair and needed to come to a place I wouldn’t be judged. You know when you have nothing, but need to remember you have something. One of those days. Nights."

He raised his glass and necked it.

"Are you, you know, alright? If you want to talk or anything you can, to me. I’ll listen. I’m good at listening."

With a little chuckle, he looked down at his glass and fingered it, before remember and seeing a beamring Zeltron looking at them both, a little confused. So, he looked to Bianca.

"Bianca! So who are you doing here?" He blinked. "I meant, what are you doing here, and who with. I saw your group over there. Noisy lot."

Connor turned to Mishel and indicated to their glasses, and thus the barman refilled them.

[member="Joza Perl"]

 

[Kenrath]

Viktor smiled leaning against the bar next to her his body turned towards her.

"Perhaps I will keep my ear to the ground and see what they have to offer."

He sipped his drink with a smile.

"For the moment I am more interested in what you are looking for." "There a Mr. Irajah in your life or were you just waiting for me to come along?"

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Sal Katarn]

Sal slammed his empty glass back on the table, as if making up his mind.

Wreathed in the scent of cloves and nicotine, the guild member got from his seat and pushed through the pheromone laden crowd. Bodies of all shapes and colors, clothing barely there, writhed on the floor of the nightclub. Sal could smell their sweat and arousal mixed in with the subtle traces of vomit and the overbearing clouds of cologne. His lips twitched. He shoved through the crowd, all elbows.

He made a beeline for a harassed woman who looked unaccompanied, minus the gadfly buzzing around her.

Buzz buzz.

Without preamble, Katarn walked up to her and flashed his guild license. "Ma'am, I need a word."

He rasped, voice sounding as though someone had taken sandpaper to his vocal chords, which wasn't far off from the truth.

Any business with the Bounty Hunter's Guild tended to be as serious as any business with local law enforcement. Nothing to turn the nose up at, then again, Sal didn't have any idea who this woman was, except alone.

Well, almost alone.

Green eyes glanced sideways at [member="Viktor Alexander"]. "Beat it."

[member="Irajah Ven"]

 

[Kuzo]

Irajah just blinked at [member="Viktor Alexander"], very slowly for a heartbeat before throwing her head back and laughing. She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes wide with amusement. It took her a moment to get the laughter under control enough to make any sort of reply.

"Did you *snerk* practice that or something? Just, have it waiting in your back pocket? Cause you have NO IDEA how far up the wrong tree you are barking, Mister Alexander," she said with a laugh.

There was no 'Mister Irajah' and heaven help him if he was angling for anything nearly that serious.

"You should probably rethink your pick up lines, unless you're looking for a certain kind of lady, which certainly isn't-"

Whatever she had been about to say died on her lips with the arrival of [member="Sal Katarn"] . Her blood went cold.

She'd thought that she'd seen the last of bounty hunters. Then again, this one wasn't simply shooting at her, so maybe it was a misunderstanding?

"What can I do for you sir?"

Well, there went her buzz.

 

[Kenrath]

Viktor chuckled.

"Only every morning in the mirror.........I thought it was pretty clever myself................no? Oh well I guess I shall.........."

Viktor stopped mid sentence as [member="Sal Katarn"] walked up, flashed a badge to [member="Irajah Ven"] and told him to beat it.

Viktor made a mock face of astonishment to Irajah.

"Oh dear it looks like I manage to find and break the one law in a place with so very few laws............ Please oh pretty please don't let the big scary man hurt me Miss Irajah pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee?"

Viktor turned to the man clearly not intimidated by the badge or the man's gruff appearance.

"Clearly manners left you right around the time you stopped being relevant. Do yourself a favor. Have a seat and a glass of milk on me would you sport? I am sure whatever it is can wait until the adults are done talking."

Viktor gave the man a smile and a wink.

 

[Sal Katarn]

The woman clapped a palm to her face.

Calloused fingers fidgeted just above a worn holster. There were places where those words would get a man shot. This might be one of them.

The urge to haul back and punch the fella in the nose came on real strong. City folk like him tended to make up for small parts with big words. Right now, the suit's mouth was writin' checks his body wouldn't be able to cash.

Job first.

Sal fought down the urge, eye twitching once.

Still... guess he did give me a name for the face.

"Over there," he said with typical stoicism, nodding his head in the direction of the more private area where [member="Joza Perl"] and [member="The Slave"] stood. A place where two people could talk without tryin' to shout over all the noise.

His eyes were on [member="Irajah Ven"], payin' no mind to the gadfly's buzzing.

Buzz buzz.

[member="Viktor Alexander"]