Drinking is Always a Gamble [CLOSED]

[Zaiden Dean]

Stepping into a dark Coruscanti bar, recently established by a group of slavers that sought to make a buck hiding their methods behind a valid establishment, Hera Naroix moved with a flourish unlike the average woman. She had her head held high for one thing; she did not fear anyone about. She met the eyes of most passerby's.

Sitting at a table in the dark corner by herself, she yawned behind her hand, then stared at her body for a second. One moment later and it began to shine and shimmer, molding all the while. In the end, she was left just a bit more curvaceous then she had been a moment ago, now stretching her clothing...pleasantly she read from a mind nearby.

Raising her hand, she offered a slight wave to a bartender that was moving about the room. He nodded her way, then continued what he was doing. She snarled in reply, thinking she would simply yank him across the room, then thought better of it and just let it go. Next time... She thought to herself as she cooled.

Today was about having a drink, and a good time.

[member="Nam Karakk"]

([member="Xhexania"] [member="Alaki"] [member="Faye Terrik"] [member="Vrag"], adding all 4 of you in case you want to do another recreation thread. May turn into a battle if the time comes.)

 

[Vrag]

[member="Hera Naroix"]

[[Nothing like gatechrashing a party, is there? ]]

It was a seedy joint, alright. A smoke so dense filled the air that anonymity was a guarantee, which was an additional perk, considering the... less than reputable clientele.

Not that she minded.

It was places like these that, ironically, allowed the Sith to relax. Well, maybe not quite that ironically, really, considering she spent most of her time surrounded by other Sith, where the least you could expect was a knife in the back; and that was if you were lucky. Here, everybody wore their heart on their sleeve — or their gauntlet, as the case may be — and the sophistry that was so prevalent among the Acolytes was nowhere to be found. Vrag wasn't very fond of deceit. She understood its uses, but why beat around the bush when you could just put a bullet between their eyes? In her opinion, all those elaborate schemes were a waste of time. Then again, nobody was interested in her opinion, which is why she was nursing a stiff drink in an underground watering hole at an ungodly hour.

Her musings were interrupted by pointedly dramatic entrance made by one blonde... individual who moved between the tables like she owned the place. Of course, while that remained in the realm of possibility, Vrag had her doubts. The newcomer simply didn't look streetwise enough to be the owner of such a respectable establishment.

 

[Zaiden Dean]

Hera leaned back in her seat, she would await the bartender sure. But she didn't have to await a wonder at who it was eye-ing her. Looking about the room swiftly, Hera could count almost a dozen people looking her way, but there was one in general that seemed to draw her the most; a woman sat in armor (remember reading on the other thread that you always wear it), openly staring at her. Offering her brightest smile, which usually was described as a grimace close to pain, she waved her closer.

"I can tell you are Force sensitive, so why beat around the bush. Come over, have a drink, talk with a fellow darksider." Hera murmured, knowing the Force would carried the hush words to her targets ears.

Straightening her blue shirt, with letters that read 'I <3 Bad Boys', she then moved to straighten her jeans as well. Compared to her recent outfits, this was the least elegant and most casual. She didn't care however, as her appearance had never been a concern before.

[member="Vrag"]

 

[Vrag]

One dark eyebrow arched she the blonde whipped around in her chair, her eyes zeroing in on her as if she had sensed her gaze on the back of her head. A moment later her suspicion was confirmed, the gentlest of whispers reaching her ears despite the raucous bellowing and the sounds of belching that filled the room. If the woman had sensed her aura in a place so filled with dark souls, she had to be powerful indeed. That, or she knew to look for her. At that, Vrag's suspicion deepened, but her face remained unchanged; if the blonde had an ulterior agenda, it was better not to tip her off.

With that thought, the armored Sith rose from her chair in the other corner, unceremoniously pushing her way through the inebriated crowd. A few bold hands tried to grab her as she passed them by, but the feeling of cold durasteel quickly sobered them up. Vrag arrived to the table with her drink still in hand, a small smile curling the edges of her lips.

"What do you want, short round?" the tall firrerreo asked with a surprisingly neutral tone of voice.

[member="Hera Naroix"]