The Sand Between Your Toes

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He flashed her a smile. "No need for flattery."

Jorg had never really thought of himself as attractive, in fact he'd never really thought of himself as anything at all. Women hadn't really been a concern over the last decade or so, mostly because he'd been focused on doing his job and nothing else. A few of his fellow Soldiers had called him pathetic for that, but for Jorg the Job had mattered more than anything else. It was a part of his upbringing.

Loyalty, dedication. It mattered. "We both know who the better looking one on this outing is."

Jorg flashed her a smile.

"So where are we going?" He asked as he stepped out of the hotel room and closed the door behind him. "Or were you waiting to seer how I cleaned up?"

He doubted it but it was always a possibility.

 

[Joza Perl]

“Not flattery. Honesty.” She asserted with a smile, ushering him out of the room and wrapping an arm around his own.

Scarlet brows knit together for a moment before they relaxed, shaking her head lightly. “It’s a small charity gala. Nothing too fancy, but formal.”

Even upper class events on Zeltros were not excused from a bit of debauchery. Granted, it wasn’t as raunchy but there was a touch of Zeltros culture—the drinks flowed freely and the dresses, while exquisite, typically showed more skin than at the same even on any other world.

Joza had attended her share of galas and the like and always preferred those on Zeltros. Biased because it was her home? Very possible, but she appreciate the more lax and jovial atmosphere to some of the stiffer ones she’d come across.

As they made their way down the stairs, she put a verbal question to her thoughts.

“Have you gone to events like this on Borealis?” She imagined he might have given the ballroom dancing lessons.

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

"Yes." The lie slipped from his lips with relative ease.

Borleias, as far as he knew, didn't really have Gala's. The world was something of a paradise, but there was really no large city or central structure, one of the reasons it appealed to tourists so much. In the last few years a Company had built some sort of vacation destination there, though Jorg had no idea if they had Gala's.

What did have Gala's was of course Bastion, his true homeworld.

There a Gala was about as common as looking down on people who you thought were 'inferior'. The High Culture of Bastion demanded that parties, dances, and 'charity' events were held on an almost monthly basis. Everyone who was anyone attended, and when he had been living at home that had included Jorg more often than not. "Once or twice."

Again he lied.

"Never really agreed with me." That was the truth. "Too many people sticking their nose into the air."

 

[Joza Perl]

“No?” She seemed a bit surprised, but that faded quickly when she realized that beyond his quiet and somewhat anxious exterior, Jorg was rather easygoing.

Or rather, she imagined him to be. Joza was painting her own little picture of him, unsure if it was accurate or not.

“Mm, I understand.” She hummed in agreement as they exited the hotel and made their way to a deep red two-person land speeder parked on the side of the road. “I’ve attended a range of events and I never really enjoy myself fully and the…stuffier venues.” She shrugged as she opened the door and slid into the driver seat before beckoning him to join her. Her lips twinged upwards as she tried to stifle a smile in memory of one of the Silver Jedi gala’s she’d attended. The night had been fun, complete with Joza quite literally vaulting her way over the counter of the bar to take charge of drinks herself while assuring the on duty staff that “It was fine.” Not quite the behavior they’d expected from Jedi Master!

“Won’t find much of that here. At most you’ll have their noses down in the toilet by the end of the night.” Her lips curved even further into a bit of a smirk as she turned the ignition. “A good portion in attendance will be off worlders, anyhow. Typical lightweights!”

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He perked an eyebrow, though didn't say anything, mostly because she was probably right. Jorg himself hardly ever had any alcohol and the last time he did...well the experience hadn't been all together pleasant and was the entire reason for him being here now.

Bespin.

The name of the planet was practically a curse on his tongue by now, but he knew that bringing such things up wouldn't be for good. The point of this night was to enjoy himself, not let his secret slip, and perhaps lead Joza away from any thoughts of him hiding something. He took a breath, then smiled. "I suppose Zeltros gets a lot of us."

He said with a smile.

"Off-worlders, light weights." Amusement touched his eye. In truth he wouldn't have put the best drinker in the company up against a Zeltron. "How do you suffer us?"

It was half a genuine question, one he hoped Joza would answer as they traveled towards the Gala.

 

[Joza Perl]

She retrieved a carton of cigarettes from beneath the neckline of her dress, shimming the pack until one worked its way out before offering it to Jorg. If he accepted she would light it, regardless of what he did she’d take a stick for herself and hold a flame to the end for a few moments.

The speeder’s engine roared as they were off, the Zeltron woman steering with one hand, lit cigarette balancing in the other as she thought about how to answer his question and opted not to sugar coat it.

She inhaled on the cigarette sharply before exhaling smoke to the side.

“Most of you are right bastards including my dad.”

Her parentage wasn’t a particularly sensitive issue unless it was openly mocked or scrutinized. She’d come to terms with it enough over the years.

People came to Zeltros for vacation and pleasure leaving certain pockets of locals abused and poor for lack of a more delicate term. There was a wide group who preferred a cheaper, grungy aesthetic to luxury resorts and Zeltros quietly diverted funds from one area into another to keep up with demand. The poor were kept poor for purpose of attraction while the rich were kept beautiful and safe. Still there was a vast middle class in between.

“They like to let go on Zeltros. Met some that seemed like good enough people.” She flicked the cigarette. “Depends on where you go. The higher class areas attract more well behaved tourists.”

No matter the gap in wealth, there were dark corners in every district of the planet. Trafficking, abuse, drug rings. Certain laws were looser on Zeltros.

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He frowned.

Jorg had never really thought of the darker side of Zeltros. People came here to enjoy themselves, but what one person found joy in could be disgusting for another. To him joy was a quiet night away from the fight, a nice evening far from having to give orders or take commands. He frowned for a moment, realizing that perhaps he was one of the dullest people to have ever visited this planet. The truth was this world was Alien to him, more so than a dozen other planets he had visited.

His lips thinned. "We're not all bad though."

Did he even have a right to say that? With what he was keeping from her...Jorg shook his head for just a few seconds. He wasn't one of the good ones, no, but he'd known both men and women who had come here that were plenty good. Kids who really did just need a night or two of drinking to let off some of the pressure of their jobs.

"I suppose you've seen it all though." He admitted finally. "Good and the bad."

Though that was hardly a good thing.

The Soldier balled his fingers into a fist for just a moment, clenching his hand before slowly releasing it.

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza’s first instinct was to backtrack, realizing that she may have come off as harsh and jaded. Which she was, and surprisingly she didn’t feel much of a need to pull things back and stumble over an apology. Instead she offered an explanation.

“I’ve worked in one of the seediest districts of Pleasure City. Most visitors were just there to have a good time and weren’t much of a bother but there were some who would…unload.”

Sexual innuendo notwithstanding, she tried to imply that there were those who would seek out darker pleasures, seeing the natives not as autonomous beings but as vessels for pleasure and whatever else they wished to inflict. The majority just wanted to drink and screw, maybe find themselves strung out on a couch in a spice induced haze among pink skinned beings.

“In other words, I’ve known a handful of girls who went missing.”

Captured into slavery? Scooped up as a plaything for someone rich and powerful? Perhaps they’d decided to cut ties and run away? Who knew, but young Zeltrons (typically women more than men) were sought after for obvious reasons.

“You’re not all bad.” She affirmed, taking another puff of the cigarette before bumping Jorg with her shoulder and giving him a half-smile. “You think I would be taking you out on a second date if I thought you were one of the unsavory ones?”

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He frowned for a moment.

Jorg had witnessed similar things in his time, sometimes worse. Stormtroopers under the One Sith had been elite units, more controlled and more strict when it came to certain...aspects of the soldiers life, but other units hadn't been the same. There had been army troopers, and plenty of Sith themselves who had given into debauchery that in truth Jorg didn't even want to imagine. The thought disgusted him somewhat even now, more so because he'd never really thought to do anything about it at the time.

He excused it by telling himself he would have been killed, but...perhaps that wasn't answer enough to someone truly righteous. The Soldier frowned for a few seconds, glancing towards the distance for just a second before turning back to Joza. "Second date, huh?"

A smile touched his lips.

Jorg tried not to focus on the unsavory aspects of their conversation, the memories that such things evoked were not something he really wanted to think about on a night like this. In truth he had worked hard to forget most of what he had gone through, what he'd seen, and of course what he'd done. Though he'd never stooped so low as others, Jorg knew that he wasn't innocent.

Not by a long shot.

 

[Joza Perl]

“Mhm,” She replied briskly, craning her neck to the side slightly as the venue came into sight. Not that Jorg would inherently know that given that most of the buildings in this part of the city were lit up in a similar way. “You already saw me part naked on the beach, so that makes this a second date.”

Yes, she was aware that she’d accidentally flashed him after her top had been knocked off by a wave. Why else would he had been so red?

“Alright, here we are.” She pulled down to the side of the road in front of a formal looking building, formal being a loose term on Zeltros. It was lit up and decorated as the culture dictated, but seemed to be the sort of place one would host foreign dignitaries at.

Maybe.

Handing her keys to the valet she shimmied from the driver’s seat and motioned for Jorg to do the same.

“Hope you wore your dancing shoes, Major.”

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He turned red, glancing out the window for a moment and choosing not to comment on what she had said.

Instead Jorg very pointedly looked towards the lights of the buildings, focusing on anything but Joza herself. After a short few seconds they finally arrived at their destination, much to his own relief. As the driver door popped open Jorg quickly followed suite, stepping out of the speeder and taking in a deep breath.

For a brief moment he caught a flash of memory, the last time he had attended a gala. It had been the Bastion Anniversary ball. A celebration of when Bastion had supposedly been dubbed an Imperial Fortress World. The event had never made much sense to Jorg, mostly because it was commemorating the achievement of something that had been brought by a long dead Empire. He had tried to bring it up with his father once, though that had just earned him a smack to the face.

He frowned and then slowly shook of the thought. "I only have one pair of shoes."

Jorg said, almost as if it were an afterthought to Joza's joke, though the expression on his face said he was serious.

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza smiled in acknowledgement of his response, but her grin slowly faded to something that more resembled hesitant confusion upon realizing that he was serious.

“Oh…well, it’s just a figure of speech. I’m sure that the shoes you have will be fine.”

She waved him towards her, wrapping an arm round his as they entered the gala. The venue was nicely decorated (in her opinion), not gaudy but not stuffy either. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood, food and drink was in great supply and there was music playing. Couples were already on the dance floor, some ballroom dancing while others practice a more risqué form of dance. Women—even some men—were dressed in tight fitting clothing, low cut tops with high cut skirts and pants. No one appeared to bat an eyelash, except for perhaps a few foreign dignitaries who could be easily marked by their stern appearance and conservative attire.

Joza squeezed Jorg’s arm. “What do you think?”

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He glanced around the room, noting the oddly dressed people first. Jorg himself didn't really mind, but memories buried deep within his mind cringed somewhat at the view in front of him. Dress like that would never have flown at a Gala on Bastion, in fact the host would likely have thrown the offending parties out of the event. He frowned for a moment, doing his best to bury the unpleasant thoughts and instead focusing upon how nice it was that people weren't judging.

Not something he'd find at home. "It's...different."

Jorg sounded hesitant, though as soon as he glanced at Joza he realized that she might take the words in a bad way. Jorg wasn't exactly one for parties, and he'd served an Empire that had stomped out thousands of freedoms, but he himself didn't really ever care.

"Not a bad thing." He corrected himself quickly. "Just not like home."

That was an understatement and a half.

 

[Joza Perl]

“Not a lot of place are like Zeltros.” She wasn’t surprised to hear that in the least. “We’re fairly unique as far as planetary cultures go.”

Not that many worlds didn’t have their own hedonistic tendencies, but on Zeltros it was a way of life and well known to the rest of the galaxy. Technological advancement helped as well.

“Would you like to dance?” She asked with a pleasant tint to her voice, holding out her hand as if to take him onto the dance floor. “I’ll even lead.”

She gave him a wink.

“That is, if you haven’t been scared away.”

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He frowned for a moment. "Well..."

Jorg hadn't danced in literal decades, and when he had danced he was the one who had lead the affair, not his at the time fiance. He could only imagine that made quite a bit of difference, he'd never learned to be...well anything but the leader.

"Uhh." He stuttered for a moment more, unsure of himself. "Alright."

She had been kind enough to invite him along for the night, who was he to say no to her? "Just take it easy on me, I haven't done this in a long time."

Understatement of the year.

 

[Joza Perl]

His response was actually pretty cute, all things considered. His nerves weren’t as bad as they’d been on the beach, but he still seemed as if he felt a little out of place. Which she couldn’t blame him for—maybe he was just one of those types.

“Just don’t step on my toes now.” She mused as Jorg presumably took her hand. If he’d examined the dance floor with a closer eye, he’d find that this sort of thing was not uncommon. Which was good considering that Joza occasionally told white lies for amusement.

She wrapped her arm around his side, leading them in a slow waltz. “Tell me more about Borealis. What was it like growing up there?”

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

He slowly followed along with her steps, something that was a bit easier than he recalled it being.

"Uhh." Well shit. He hadn't actually thought anyone would ever be interested in Borleias, that was why hed chosen it in the first place. By all accounts the planet was completely and utterly boring, somewhat of a paradise but...well boring.

"It's calm." He dug deep into his memories for what his squadmate had told him. "No one ever really goes there."

All true. "For a long time it was held by The Republic, but even then most people just kind of...left it alone."

They slowly moved around the dance floor, following the rythm of the music as they wove around. Jorg looked down at Joza, offering her a small smile.

"It's a..." He frowned. "Dollop of peace in a bucket of chaos."

 

[Joza Perl]

She tilted her head upwards a bit to keep focused on his face as he spoke, genuine curiosity lining her features.

Something was off, and she had an inkling of what it was. Well, she knew was it was, but did she really want to draw out his anxieties so early on in the night?

“It sounds lovely. Lots of people like to go to a relaxing place like that, I bet.”

She smiled at the thought of it but she couldn’t do without her city lights.

“Let’s hope it stays that way, then.” Too many peaceful words had been ravaged by war at a moment’s notice, though luckily it looked as if they’d at least get a small reprieve from their clashes with the First Order. Hopefully.

Her grin sharpened, and she moved to dip him as one would a lady.

Or in Joza’s case, a she would her dance partner.

[member="Jorg"]

 

[Subject 37]

[member="Joza Perl"]

As soon as Joza pressed against him to try and dip him Jorg became as stiff as a statue.

He might not have remembered much at all about dancing, but he did remember this part. His eyebrow perked, and his foot backed up to suddenly catch himself before he fell onto the ground. She was a Jedi, so she probably could have held him up in the air...but why take chances? "Nice try."

The Soldier stated with a small smile.

His fingers tightened on her for just a moment, almost as if making sure that she wouldn't try to push him over once more, if one could even call him that. Their height difference was enough that if Joza had succeeded in her attempt the two of them would have appeared rather...comical.

"How about..." He said as he slowly moved his hands. "You let me lead for a while."

 

[Joza Perl]

Joza’s breath hitched in her throat as her dance partner became unusually rigid, bumping into him a little as he refused to be dipped.

Righting herself, she tilted her head up to find the soldier staring down at her, a small smile on his face as his hands shifted over her body to take up the lead.

“Excuse me, I am good at dipping.” She insisted but made no move to stop him, comfortable with following for a while. It was a dance, not a mission behind enemy lines.

That, and he seemed to be loosening up more.

“So it’s coming back to you?”

[member="Jorg"]