Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Fashion Week

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Coruscant Fashion Week | Noah Corek Jr. Noah Corek Jr.

Myra and Makky had put a challenge to her ; work hard and don't give her Governess any trouble and they would reward her with a trip to Coruscant Fashion Week.

It was hard to keep her quips to herself. To not give some jaunty observations to the old woman. To focus on speech patterns becoming a High Core Heiress. Yet she did it ; as Myra pointed out, ain't no High Core Heiress cursing and slingin' curse words like a Hapan Pirate.

Persie wanted to slip into that world. Live the high flying life. Have splashy holo-shoots all over her social media, luxurious weekend getaways 'just for fun'. The type of activities she saw with various other high society and wealthy types she had encountered since coming into the care of her distant relatives.

The hard work paid off, she was on Coruscant in a penthouse suite booked by her 'big brother', right in the heart of all the action. Tickets had been obtained to the Ralf Loren fashion show. Makky had somehow been able to pull some strings.

Now, the tickets were for a back row but that was not an issue. One, Persie would influence herself up to the front in just a few short years. Two, she was finally here. Just a year ago she wouldn't have believed it. Her. At a fashion show with real celebrities and models.

There was one hiccup in her plan ; Noah Corek Jr. Noah Corek Jr.

Makky had hired his friend to be her bodyguard for the weekend. Myra was busy. Makky was busy. Danger and Rue were busy. This left her guardians to outsource the dirty work, landing on Makky's trusted friend. Even then, the half-Galan had some stern words for the man, warnings about kidnappings and getting in trouble with criminals.

Stepping out of her room and into the living space of the suite, Persie had on quite the fashionable outfit for the evening.

Then she looked at her bodyguard. Face crinkled into a sour look, as if completely disgusted.

"Do yous even own a brush?"
 

Noah Corek Jr sighed as his eyes were drawn upwards from his datapad to the young woman, hell she was barely a teenager since according to Makky she had turned thirteen not too long ago. "I own several in fact, however my hair tends to get ruined when I put this on." The 'this' he was referring to was the helmet he picked up from next to him on the couch he was currently lounging on.

The helmet was a new addition to his gear, along with the armor that he was currently sporting. The armor wasn't a set of proper beskar'gam made of the ubiquitous Beskar but instead consisted of a different metal alloy altogether.

Putting the helmet back down he turned his attention back towards the datapad currently in his hand. He had been assigned a job and despite the utter annoyance that was his protectee he was going to see it through to the utmost of his capability. It was for this reason he was currently scanning through the list of attendees for the Ralf Loren fashion show that was going to be subjected to.

He had taken this job for two reasons: one was because Makky had offered it to him, and a hefty sum of credits that he had assumed the half-Galan knew would tempt Junior since he knew of his desires to purchase a new ship, and two was because he needed to get away from Centrality as his father.

It was not because he was displeased with the work, quite the opposite. It was because his mother's terraforming business had finally arrived in the system. Usually a chance to see his mother, Yasha Cadera Yasha Cadera , would be a joy for Junior but his mother had not come, no she had sent a representative instead. None other than his twin sister Morgan.

Now the young man loved his sister but to say that she grated on his nerves would be an understatement. So he had taken this job as both a favor to Makky and as a way to get out of seeing his sister...oh how he was coming to regret that.
 
Hands on her hips, Persie stared at Makky's friend from across the room. Was her new guardian the smartest out of his friends? If so, that was incredibly sad because her 'big brother' wasn't the sharpest stick in the bundle. In their short time of knowing one another Persie had seen first hand how oblivious he was. Personally, she wasn't sure how Myra handled it. The Arceneau Heiress could easily do better.

"Your hair won't be ruined because you ain't putting 'this' on." Brows knit together as she took in the appearance. "You ain't wearin' that to no fashion show. Go change. Wash yer face too while yous is at it."

Tone of voice left no room for argument. Persie was demanding that her bodyguard go and change. He looked ridiculous. What was the point of his armor? Were they taking in fashion or digging trenches on the front lines of the latest battle? An utter moron. Persie was going to have strong words with her 'parents' about hiring a bodygauard and escort worthy of a budding heiress. Why didn't they send Makky's droid, Thirty-Seven?

"I should have told Makky to pay that pretty blonde bastard to bring me. A pretty face and he can appreciate fashion...you...yous is just tragic."


Persie had only seen the blonde man once in passing. Complete resting hag face, tall, well spoken. That was who she needed to be seen with. Despite the fact she going to be sitting in the back row, Persie did not want to be the laughing stock of the Ralf Loren fashion show. The focus was to be on the pretty fall and winter outfits for the end of the year, not an overgrown walking piece of tin foil!

Noah Corek Jr. Noah Corek Jr.
 

Junior's hands came up to his forehead and began to knead his temples as the girl spoke, her voice was pleasant and her accent reminded him of when he bad heard Danger Arceneau Danger Arceneau speak to his father a few times but it was her words that were frustrating him. His job here wasn't to look fashionable or make her seem cooler to whomever she was going to meet at the fashion show.

"Listen...I'm not changing what I'm wearing. If you don't want me to sit near you then fine. But I am not changing. You are the heiress to a lucrative salvage company, add to that your ties to the Arceneau family and you are a ripe target for kidnapping and ransoming. As high brow as events like this are they still attract their fair shares of nasty types hoping to pick off people EXACTLY like you."

With his little spiel out of the way Junior stood and walked over to the nearby table, grabbing from it his holsters before strapping then and the two pistols they carried to his waist. He had to admit he snickered a little bit when she called him tragic, as much as he was trying to avoid his sister he found that the girl currently in front of him was very similar to her. "You ain't the first girl to say that about me...the last one to say it was my twin sister."
 
Persephone stared at Corek Junior in disbelief. What was with this idiot? What did he think they were going into, a warzone? Digging a trench in front of the runway? That someone was going to swoop down and take her? As for her ties to the Ar-sin-new family, who would take her over Myra? Myra was the one with the credits. Persie had to make thirty-minute long presentations just to get a new coat!

Granted, Makky did give her access to emergency funds. Even that had a limit.

"'Course I ain't the first girl to say that about you! Don't you know we have meetings? You were on our last agenda, unanimously decided that yous is just tragic." A small pause. "Your sister sounds smart."

Now it was a debate what to do. How was she going to get out of this? The armor looked like it would slow down Corek Junior. Perhaps it would. Maybe they would also mistake him for a droid and not for a overly armored idiot. Or did she dig in her heels? Why couldn't she get a normal bodyguard who wore a suit and tie? That would have blended seamlessly.

She wanted to go to the show. She wasn't missing it. Now Corek Junior? He may be missing it.

"We's can compromise. I'll buy you a suit and you can keep your little holster on."


One last ditch effort to meet half-way before merely finding a way to get rid of Corek Junior for the afternoon.

Noah Corek Jr. Noah Corek Jr.
 

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