Private Riches to Riches

[Malcoma Hesse]

There was something freeing about stepping into a house that had snuffed out the freedom of so many others.

That had to be true of slavers and traders. If it didn't stoke a sense of superiority, why would anyone slave or trade?

But for her the power trip came out of knowing what she was here to do. Being a wolf in sheep's clothing, or an expensive little black dress as it were, never got old. Of course, it didn't really stick anything to the man, as no one gave a chit what a buyer did with their slave after purchase—including freeing them soon after. They would surely see it as a waste of both a large sum of credits and free humanoid labor but wouldn't ultimately care.

While it was unfortunate that she couldn't make slave-owners hurt, she knew that doing so would be bad for her business. An Underground Hyperlane didn't lay low by drawing the attention of many angry men and their hired guns.

Malcoma clung to Wynter's arm as they stepped through the great, double leaf doors into the gilded ballroom of the auction house. As they lingered for a moment on the landing, she glanced up at an extraordinarily large and sparkling crystalline chandelier. They then took to the stairs. She leaned over to not whisper but speak more clearly over the room's resounding acoustics.

"Does this remind you of anything?"

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

Wynter didn't really have a lot of specific thoughts on slavery.

It was a dirty business, yes, but it was also profitable.

Still.

Hesse was quite stern about it and far be it from Wynter to ruin her night. After all, she had the power to ruin all his nights, if he became unreasonable about this sticking point. "Hm?" His gaze had been captured by the chandelier. Crystalline, golden, expensive to a certain degree. Already making plans on how to get it out of here without anyone noticing.

Prohibitively difficult sadly.

"Our first night together," He murmured back, running his nose along her cheek, to whisper it in her ear. "-when I took you away from Confederate space. Wasn't that fun?"

He smiled as he led them down the stairs and towards the buffet table. At least one drink, before the whole ordeal would begin.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

"Mhm," she hummed in agreement. He'd have to work a bit harder to take her away from the Core, but she didn't say that. She had made that much clear a few nights ago.

Once at the buffet table, Malcoma unlinked her arm from his. She reached for a crostini appetizer with her freed hand and with the other unfolded the paper program that the doorman had given her, angling it so Wynter could read as well if he seemed interested.

Night's Schedule​

. . .​

Open reception ~ 19:00 - 01:00​

Showcase ~ 20:30​

Silent action ~ 20:45 - 0:00​

Winning bids announced ~ 01:00​

She stepped back, closer and conspiratorial, but what she said was anything but.

"If I call you Damris, don't take it personally."

After all, she normally did do this with him.

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

He had been busy sampling the drinks when she showed him the schedule.

Steel eyes scanned it briefly.

"Silent? Does that mean I can't make you... laugh?" Wyn's accompanying grin showcased he was most definitely just karking with her. This wasn't his first auction. Though... usually he was robbing them rather than participating in them. This would be an interesting change of scenery. Then again, it wasn't like he'd be the one doing the bidding.

"When have I ever taken anything personally, darling?"

His hip checked hers and then Wyn offered his arm again once his Bloody Mary was secured in the other.

"Just don't be surprised if I start flirting with him over your head." Grin morphed into smirk as he guided her to the other end of the table, because Wynter did wonder what sort of food they had to offer.

It was most likely something scandalous and totally a waste on these people.

"Do you have your eyes on something specific tonight?"

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

She folded the program back up and zipped it up into her clutch, then took to Wynter's arm again.

"Just don't be surprised if I start flirting with him over your head."

"We could be one happy family then, how touching."

"Do you have your eyes on something specific tonight?"

"There's a sarkhai dancer," Malcoma began, "and an evocii farmhand. I doubt I can buy both, so it's going to come down to seeing them with my own eyes. Sometimes..."

The headmistress dropped her train of thought under some unseen weight. Still keeping pace with Wynter, she glanced from their pathway and scanned the ballroom to her left. The portion of the crowd that wasn't actively moving or facing away from her had not one eye on her. Contrary to the energy she gave, she preferred to be the center of attention only at very precisely timed instances, of which this was not one.

So, what was she picking up on? Maybe she was just nervous, nervous to be doing this for the first time since spilling her secret to the Family, nervous to be letting Wynter into this facet of her life.

Yes, yes, both of those were it.

"Sometimes..." she began again, slowly returning her gaze to her centerline, "...the auction masters let the slaves on sale mingle with their bidders."

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

Wynter picked up on the weird vibe coming off of her, but he wasn't certain what it was about. It had surprised him to hear she her companions' business had been a front for... this.

He still didn't fully believe it.

His reaction was privately mixed on it.

For the longest time Wynter had assumed she was just as ruthless as he was. Now it turned out? Soft at heart. This didn't change the way he felt about her, but it made him more cautious. He definitely thought twice about gunning someone down in front of her without a second thought. On the flipside, it did mean that every time he flirted with one of her girls and they responded positively?

They genuinely had been positive. That was nice for the ego.

"I see." He muttered as he looked over the crab pasties and the toast with shellfish. "Do you want anything from here or just the drink for now?" Regardless of her answer, Wynter loaded up a small plate with a few odds and bobs.

Never lose an opportunity to fill yourself up with the spoils of the rich.

"As for only being able to afford one... I had a little surprise for you..." The smirk was a bit absent as he balanced his plate and began guiding them away from the buffet.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

She had drank at plenty of inappropriate times before but for once in her life, it didn't seem like a good idea to drink now. Her nerves were fraying fast, yes, but there was something else to it. There had to be. The raw instinct clawing at the sides of her stomach made her regret eating even that small piece of bread.

"No, nothing else," she replied, trying to focus on him rather than whatever hid in either the crowd or her head. "I need to keep my senses about myself." Even more than normal.

As he began leading her away, the only response she gave to his insinuation was a small nod as she reached down with her free hand to brush it against her thigh. A familiar shape there. Kandra, right where she had strapped her. The strings of her heart unwound as quickly as they had coiled.

She straightened up again. "What was that, darling?"

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

Wynter was peace itself.

Sometimes he wondered if it was frost running through his veins that allowed him to be cool during these sort of shindigs. Then again, it wasn't his reputation on the line.

"A surprise." He murmured as Wyn leaned in to kiss her just under her ear. A little tease. "I didn't have the heart to make you choose tonight, darling." And then gestured with his head downwards. "Slide your hand in my pocket. It's a gift for you." Inside? Was a thick bar of cool metal. Auridium. Still branded with the Imperial crown.

"Liberated that from a mining operation down in the Outer Rim. Ought to pay for at least one of them... and you can buy the other, yes?"

Oh, yes, Wynter seemed very pleased about this.

What a surprise indeed.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

She turned it over in her hand then slid it back into his pocket for safekeeping.

"I don't know what to say," she whispered. Thank you didn't seem like it would cover it. The last few days on the Undoubtedly had confirmed to him what she had always known in secret: That they were different kinds of people. She played in his world because criminality did her favors that didn't exist outside of its bounds, and he, well, this was who he was through and through.

It did change how she felt about him though. Now that he knew, and didn't seem to care, rather to be supportive, her feelings had only strengthened. If it wasn't important for her to maintain her elegant and proper reputation, she'd take him into one of the hall's many fancy restrooms right then and there.

She decided to say it anyway when other words failed to come.

"Thank—"

A man's voice cut her off. "Hesse."

She came to a stop as he approached them.

"Such a surprise to see you here." He glanced at Wynter before looking back to her with a slight smirk on his face. "As far as I know, there are no children on today's docket."

Malcoma returned a tightlipped smile and sarcastically canted her head. "Really? What a sh—"

The slaver spoke over her again. "Tell me, how is Onhan?"

"He wasn't...my sort of material after all."

"I see. What a shame then, Malcoma."

Safely out of sight, Malcoma's fingers tightened just so around Wynter's arm. Maybe he took that as his cue, because he broke in, "Ah, Mal, I didn't realize you were on first name basis with sentient trash. Unless the sentient trash has an overinflated sense of self, of course." Smiling.

That made her smile more genuinely. "Of course not," she told him before turning to the slaver. "It's Headmistress, and I hope you have as much misfortune at tonight's bids as I did with your stock." With that, she took over the lead, pulling Wynter into the hole in the crowd that the slaver had immerged from.

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

They left the slaver fuming and Wynter smugly satisfied.

"You pulled me away right in time, I was about to leave a hole in his head." This would have been false bluster from anyone else. Wynter? Wynter with the dead eyes and reflexive trigger finger? Wynter with the heart frozen over and running on monetary instinct? Wynter with all the golden luck in the world?

Oh, yes, he would have done a murder and then took Malcoma out for a dance.

He let her lead them towards the open-clearing with seatings before the podium. It was already getting busy. People clearly seemed to want to get to the main attraction of the night.

"But..." Wyn chuckled as he checked her hip with his again. "You were about to say something, before you were so rudely interrupted." Balancing his plate and drink with one hand, he pulled a seat back for her. Then the smuggler would take his own seat. Starting to nibble on a piece of shell-fish toast and watching the crowd with naked curiosity.

It was always the strangest people that came to deal in sentient flesh.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Malcoma had expected questions to come next, but then she remembered that Wynter didn't have the same moral compass that she did. In fact, almost no one in the underworld had a moral compass like hers; as Damris had pointed out long ago, her heart was a rarity in this walk of life, but not one so highly prized.

You had to be careful with it. Once the glass face broke, you were doomed. There was no one you could go to to have it fixed.

Once they had sat down, she wrapped a hand around his nape and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Thank you, captain, very much."

The left side of the curtain drawn across the stage rustled. She looked up at it, withdrawing her hand into her lap, leaving the ghosts of fingernails resting on his skin in her wake.

"Ladies and gentlebeings," another man's voice cracked over the mic system, "welcome to Grorzi the Hutt's biannual slave auction! We know you are all very excited to put in your bids, so let's get right to showing you our merchandise..."

The curtains rose to reveal a twi'lek man at center stage. He looked to the side and called out a name, after which a human girl in a cocktail dress and a metallic slave collar came to his side. Malcoma watched on as the MC showed the girl off, talking about her strengths and weaknesses all the while, indifferently, and then for the next few repetitions of this process, only rolling her eyes once when a loud wolf whistled came from the back of the audience.

Then:

"Next up, Nonor!"

A hunchbacked evocii hobbled out onto the stage. His blouse looked uneven on him though it was buttoned up correctly. Mal's face didn't soften, but she did shift in her seat.

"And, lastly, Entani!"

An alabaster young woman with braided white hair came out next, her hand brushing Nonor's crossed arms as he shuffled past her.

When the curtains closed after her segment, Malcoma got up from her seat. "Well, it looks like I..." Made a good selection, she was about to say before she had to press her body up to Wynter's to make room for a near-human man passing behind them in the isle.

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

His eyes were on the first prize.

Not a bad look at all.

If Wynter had been alone, he'd have asked for a dance during the meet 'n' greet. Something told him that Hesse wouldn't appreciate that. Fair enough. So he put her out of her mind. No sense in tempting the flesh too much. The second and third one on offering were the choices picked. They looked... well, isn't that interesting?

Wyn noticed the subtle brush of touch.

They knew each other then? Perhaps.

"Those tw-" They got interrupted by a rude person behind them. Wynter shot them a glare from behind while his hand settled on Mal's knee. "You'd think they'd space out the seating a little bit."

That comment meant that he missed the shocked look the near-human man shot Malcoma.

As if... they recognized her from somewhere.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Malcoma huffed out a laugh, but not at Wynter's comment.

That nervousness was at a rolling boil again.

"Don't fool yourself," she replied once she had collected herself and stepped back. "We're nunas packed into a feedlot to them." She turned around to throw a look into the dispersing crowd. Past a few retreating shoulders, she spotted the man looking back at her. "All I want to do is talk." A hand found Wynter's bicep and squeezed gently through his blazer. "Find me Nonor's bid card first. I'll be right there."

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

The laugh drew his attention.

Hesse was really all over the place today, wasn't she? He followed her glance towards the near-human. Then back to her and it was clear Wynter wasn't a great advocate of her request. Yet, this was her party, wasn't it? Already Wyn managed to avoid point-blank executing one slaver. Allowing her to have a chat with the rude man while he went to fetch her card?

Why not.

"Sure." He squeezed her knee one more time before letting go. "Jus' shout if ya need a hand... or a revolver."

Pointed look at the waiting man before he rose himself up and went to do what Mal wanted.

Wynter was full of surprises today.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

In the time they had been talking, the man stepped out of the living current to wait for Malcoma.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" she asked after a calm approach.

He shook his head. "I suppose not, lady. I apologize for that."

"Oh, do you?" Strange verbiage for a criminal.

"I do." He adjusted his vest under his blazer. "Speaking of mothers, you look just like yours."

Malcoma's brow knit itself before she even knew it. "Excuse me?" The only people who knew her mother either was her former owner or were his associates. She was certain that any and all beings who fit either category were dead. She had taken care of that when she had been younger and less careful to guard her ambition against enemies by trying very hard not to make them. At least not on this side of the law.

"You don't remember her, do you?"

She stepped in closer, just barely resisting the urge to reach for her own pistol. She could do better while making less of a scene anyway. On one of the fingers grasped around her clutch, her fingernail began to sharpen into a microblade implant. "Who the hell are you?"

To her surprise, he answered quickly and chirpily, standing his ground. "Kordolph Leys, ma'am." He paused to swallow his own nerves. "Lead butler to the Ducha of Terephon."

The wrinkles on her forehead deepened. Her finger began to return to normal.

Now it was Kordolph's turn to step closer. "You are Hapan, yes?"

Malcoma shifted back in time with his stride, holding up her clutch to keep him away. "I'm going to stop you there..."

"Please don't, Hesse." Her wrinkles melted away at that as another kind of shock, the wide-eyed variety, took over her face. "Let me finish." When she remained quiet, he took that as permission to do so. "You look just like the Duchess." More silence. "I'm so glad that I found you here."

He took that listening equated with acceptance. That was wrong. This had to be a mistake. She was no lady, just a slave who had made something out of herself. "You're mistaken. Have some hors d'Oeuvres and leave."

With that, she turned around to began to return to Wynter.

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

He had been halfway through the distance with the bidding card in hand.

Slow-walked it.

To give Hesse some privacy. By the time they met each other halfway Wynter already had a cigarette lit up and stuck between his teeth. "Yar lookin' like ya saw a ghost, darling." Murmured around the cigarette as he looked her up and down. Then past her to the man. The latter seemed to struggle between going after Hesse... but then he deflated.

Taking is leave from the room.

"Someone I gotta take care of?"

Voice unconcerned, but there was a set around his shoulders. The tension would be familiar for Mal. It was the stance of a man ready to commit murder if need be.

Which wasn't all that special in Wyn's case granted.

This one was always ready for some blood.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

"I don't know where they find these people," said Malcoma, taking the bidding card from Wyn's hand. They'd bet on Entani later; there was more than enough time and Mal had learned quickly never to seem too eager in a bidding war.

Then she added, "No, just get me back to the Undoubtedly the moment this is over."

She kissed at the corner of his mouth as she moved past him to find that drink now.

She found her way ahead of Wynter back to the buffet tables. As she nursed a spitz cocktail, she wrote down her bid and contact information before folding the card in half and dropping it on a passing waiter's platter.

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

"Usually these people find themselves." Wyn smiles thinly as he kept tracking the man, until he left the room.

He wasn't yet entirely convinced however.

Part of him wanted to go after him. Maybe apply a sharp knife. Poke. Slice. See what was under the skin. There were no secrets at that point, but Malcoma seemed rather firm about this. So Wynter finally relented and followed her towards the buffet table. "Are you going to tell me what this man was trying to sell you?"

It seemed to have been something in that ball park.

Perhaps an unruly slave?

But usually Hesse would relish the chance of freeing another one.

How odd.

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

"A dirty lie." Malcoma took a long drag of her drink. She was so beyond annoyed that she failed to realize that telling a scoundrel the content of that lie may not have been her finest moment. "That he knew my mother. That she's a Hapan Duchess. I may be fighting an impossible battle, but I wasn't born yesterday." With one more drink, the flute was empty.

Wynter Rackham

 

[Wynter Rackham]

Malcoma Hesse

"...a Hapan Duchess..." He murmurs there, absently, and thinking about that. "Lots of money in the royalty business, ain't there?"

Oh, yes, Mal would recognize that tone.

It was avarice.

Perhaps it was silly, but sometimes the most outlandish things... were based on the truth.

"Why would someone target you with something like that?" There were better targets for it. "And what did they offer you?"