We Like Balls [Galactic Alliance Fund-Raiser Gala]

[Aran Finn]

There were two things that Alen Na'Varro was known for these days. Fighting people and throwing amazing parties at his volcanic manor/lair in the heart of Sullust. Tonight he'd be doing the latter, and for the benefit of the entire galaxy. Or at least those who were on the list or could afford the 10 000 credit door price ... of course, this Gala was dual purpose. The funds would be going towards the technological development of the GA's future capabilities or something of that nature. Really, it wasn't that important. What was important, however, was that everyone who showed up here would be having a great time.

The entire ballroom was mood-lighted by the glow of magma, blending nicely with the red carpet and various standing tables appointed with perfect white tablecloths. Giant glittering balls hung from the ceiling, and confetti rained slowly, incessantly from above. Somehow, it didn't drop into anyone's drink. The Force works in mysterious ways. Tuxedoed caterers of various species busied themselves serving canapes and drinks of all shapes, sizes and colours. Various bars dotted the room, all serving Vaapad Lessons, a family favourite from the Outer Rim.

They were very strong cocktails. Half of the guests were trashed already. Good times.

Na'Varro made his way through the crowd, nodding to an acquaintance here and slapping the back of a business partner there. A dance floor took up the centre of the room, where a crowd of party-goers were getting down to a band playing the hip-hopish smash hit from a decade ago, "Drop It Like It's Shot." Elsewhere, the sound of loud, bustling conversation overwhelmed the music.

Drinks were being consumed at an almost alarming rate. Alen could feel it in the air ...

This was going to be a wild one.

Spoiler

OOC:

1. Everyone is welcome.
2. Unless you're not drinking.
3. Yes, even Sith. If you can mask your aura, it's not like I have a security camera linked to the GA criminal database on my front door. You're contributing to the cause so go nuts.
4. Troublemakers are discouraged from making trouble. If you think you can get away with it, go for it though. If I kill you, I get a stealth drive for my new ship.
5. You have to have fun. It's a rule.

 

[Jessica Justice]

Spoiler

The dress:

Sauntering in as if the party was here just for her, radiating confidence matched only by the natural allure of her unique parentages blessing of abundant natural beauty, Jessica was here because... Well, daddy's money said she could, and who DOESN'T like a good party?

Here eyes, matching the dress she wore, were glinting mischievously. As were the gems decorating the halter of the dress, and the heels clicking across a patch of hard flooring before falling silent upon the carpeting, as she approached the first target of her attentions this evening. She let a playful smile dance across her pretty face, before offering a slight curtsy to [member=Alen Na'Varro].

"Mighty fine abode ye 'ave here." Her strong accent, a potentially dead giveaway as to who her father was, was still strangely musical in its unrefined way. "It be a shame Ah've nevah been ta one of ye're parties before."

As she was a 'princess', in a business-empire-sense, she always attempted to be at least a 'decent' representative of her father. "Me manners escaped me. Me name's Jessica. Jessica Justice. And while Ah've read ye name on the invitation, Ah'd rather hear it from ye own lips so Ah can be sure ta try pronouncing it proper." The nearly-half-Zeltron continued with her playful smile, as her pheromones unconsciously did their work, wafting about, filling the air about her in an unseen cloud, full of warm sensations, and perhaps some less than chivalrous thoughts.

 

[Allyson Locke]

Galas, Balls, and Parties, they were somethings that seemed to have filled her life past the age of twenty-two. When Ashin had come into power with the Sith Empire, she had to learn quickly how to be a public image. Being eighteen and in love, you couldn’t be that way, you couldn’t make mistakes because if you did - well there were dire consequences. Luckily, her partner was able to hire the best teachers to teach the girl diplomacy along with her uncanny ability to read and feel emotions - she was dangerous in negotiations. Time went on and the Fringe occurred, that's when the parties really kicked up, but she was comfortable then. All in all, parties, balls, and galas were like a Sunday stroll for the blonde.

It was a black dress kind of night, but not just any black dress. She chose the tightest and form flattering little black dress she had in her closet. Just to be different, red heels and the brightest red lipstick accented the woman’s softly tanned skin and blonde hair. “Welcome Ms. Varanin, the Alliance welcomes you.” A smile that weakened the knees of one of the Galaxy’s most dangerous woman, was flashed towards the man that greeted her and he quickly took her coat and checked it in with the others. She was recognized, more so because of the tragedy that she had endured - with Ashin’s death she had gone into seclusion and her appearance was more of a surprised, hopefully a welcomed surprise.

There were well wishers and people that sympathized with her loss. Conversations of how amazing Ashin was and how they were some sort of story book romance to the others. Spencer nodded and played diplomat accepting all the comments and the small bits of conversation. It had taken a lot for her to finally leave the comfort of her room on the ship, but it was time for her to actually show the Alliance the support she claimed to give it. Continuing to wander, she made her way through the crowd, until.

“ACHOOOO” The woman sneezed and shook her short blonde hair about as she tried to figure out the source. She knew this sneeze and she knew the warmth in her ears. Only one source did this to her and she quickly zeroed in on the girl. Glancing at the person she talked too she eyed Alen and smirked. They had a little history, he had more history with Ashin, but still it was history. Making her way over she did her best to stifle any more sneezes and slipped her arm under the man’s. A hand rested against his chest as that same smile she gave the door man flashed across her face and to the man who was throwing the party.

“Mr. Na'Varro, you look finer than a glass of aged Corellian Whiskey.” Another flirtatious flutter of her eyes and she played with the fabric on his clothing with the tip of her fingers. The music changed to something the older folk would enjoy, a bit slower pace. “I like this song, care to dance and catch up?”

[member="Jessica Justice"] [member="Alen Na'Varro"]

 

[Liliane]

It was that time of the year when Lilin would have to search through her not so huge wardrobe and have to admit to herself that she had only one amazing dress and that it was the one she had already worn, on Naboo. So that meant only one thing -- the girl had to get some more funding from her father and scram out whatever money she herself had to get another dress.

Kind of odd to think about how Lilin, one of the least ladylike people ever, was now going on her second ball in a very short period of time. It was as if winds had changed and tides had turned and the people around her just weren't the same anymore. Nor was she herself the same anymore.

She stepped into the huge room where the gala was happening, admiring the beauty of this place for a moment. The colossal decorations made her feel so soft and warm inside, as if something unrealistic from her dreams had come true. The confetti which didn't stop falling from the ceiling - why didn't it stop falling, like what? - made the whole scene feel so grandiose and amazing.

The dress the girl had brought was nothing too major this time, but she still found it beautiful. The main theme of it was white, but it had a gradient effect on it once again, this time the white from the most of the dress slowly blended into the red of the bottom of the dress as it made it downwards.

She was already equipped with a glass of sparkling wine. Drinking had turned into her forté, if that was even possible. Well, yes, she had managed to become less of a drunkard and had turned to the more elegant ways of drinking -- a few wines here and there on parties didn't hurt anybody. It had to be noted though, that Lilin didn't really go to parties that often.

The atmosphere was set and the glass was in her hand, meaning she would get to move onto her objective -- to have fun.

 

[James Justice]

Money. Money never changes. Times may come and go. But money never changes.

James Justice eyed the young greenhorn across the bar who had the nerve to challenge him to shots. Did he have clue [member="Jessica Justice"], his daughter was here? Nope, not a clue. Did that make him a bad father? Yeah, probably. However, his mind was on winning. And drinking. The spacer had already beaten three other fools who though they had a chance at the title at this bar alone. But, the loser had to pay for drinks... so he was good with it.

The space adjusted his leather jacket that covered his shimmerskilk shirt, "How about we up the stakes here, laddie?"

The young kid snarled at him, "Yeah? What do you thi--"

The spacer cut him off by tossing a fist full of high denomination credit chips, "Put ye money where ye mouth is."

The boy dug into his pocket and tossed the chips on the table, "Ok, grandpa, let's see what you got."

The bartender shook his head with a sad look as James clocked back the first shot. The young boy, no older than his early twenties, followed. Another. Another. Another. Another. Another. James had to admit the kid was handling himself pretty well. The spacer could feel himself glowing with ecstasy as--

The boy sat back too far for his next drink, falling flat on his back unconscious. A roar of approval filled the air. James slammed his glass on the floor, shattering it into a thousand pieces as he lept to his feet, "Hell yes!"

Several of the other patrons crowded around him, giving him applause and slaps on the back. James wasted no time pocketing his winnings before grabbing another drink. Maybe he would go to the dance floor later, but for now, he was intent on getting as dunk as possible.

 

[Dayn Wren]

Aedan Lochlan missed the rumble as laser fire threatened to tear his X-Wing apart. He missed that feeling in his gut when the familiar sound of a hostile starfighter getting a missile lock on you went off. That he knew how to handle. That was what he had been trained for. This? This was terrifying.

Rogue Squadron had been invited to the gala. Whether someone had already paid for them or the hosts thought it would help their cause to have the Rogues present, he did not know. All he knew was that he didn't have to pay. Which was good. He loved his job, but the brass could stand to pay them a little bit more. You'd think the best starfighter squadron in the galaxy would be a little better off. At least his ego was doing fine.

Oh wait, no, it wasn't. He hated social gatherings. Aedan lifted his glass, taking a considerable sip. At this point it didn't matter what was in it. Liquid courage, liquid courage. Who knows, maybe he'd get lucky and get through this without anyone talking to him.

Aedan looked well enough. He didn't have a fancy suit to adorn, but that was no drawback when he could instead wear his officer's uniform. The propaganda value would have been lost anyway, had he worn a suit with no one knowing who he was or in which unit her served. Not that the uniform gave the unit away, but it was at the very least a strong indicator as to his profession. The uniformed man kept to himself and his cup, enjoying the corners of the room.

Discomfort. Such discomfort. He took another considerable sip from his drink.

 

[Aran Finn]

[member="Jessica Justice"] would find Na'Varro deep in conversation with a group of considerably drunk young Naval officers, spinning war stories and encouraging them to approach a nearby group of young females, who all fit in the mold of tight dresses and make-up and painstaking hair styles. As an older, wiser head, and a relatively famous soldier with quite the history, his stories were well-received. The young LTs roared with laughter as he told them about his one hopeless soldier who he tied his rifle to, stared incredulously when he regaled them with stories of drunken flaming indoor hockey on Thursday nights in the O's Mess, and nodded knowingly as passed on some tips for young players regarding dealing with problem soldiers.

"The thing is," he said, pausing to knock back a Vaapad Lesson, "you'll always have a soldier who racks up a gambling debt, and then the debt collector will come to you with the bill when he can't pay. Always. There's always one. Anyway-"

That was when a strange yet familiar feeling crept over him ... warm, inviting, sensual. Pheromones. He'd had enough of pheromones for a lifetime. There was that time on that backwater planet when his girlfriend at the time had made out with Mikhail freakin' Shorn and he'd almost done the same with Lucianus Adair ... although, he didn't think anyone would be able to blame him for that, even without pheromones addling his judgement. Luc was probably in the top five sexiest humanoids in the galaxy, and Alen had yet to meet the other four. Regardless, pheromones were in the air. As he turned to look for the source, one of the young officers had made a beeline for one of the girls, and the other ones were watching, waiting in anticipation.

Na'Varro felt himself begin to salivate. It was hot under his collar, and he had the sudden urge to jump the next female that walked by. Gorramit. Then he found the source.

She was an attractive, very young brunette wearing a blue dress that cut off just above the knees. Force, she's got to be younger than Laura. Nevertheless, the pheromones perverted his inhibitions and senses, and only the serenity of a light-side Master held him in check. Gorramit, he thought again, and returned her playful smile in spite of himself. You stupid idiot, he chided himself gently, and kissed her hand as was proper.

"Pleased to meet you, my lady. I'm Alen. Alen Na'Varro." He made a small bow as was proper, though internally he detested the Oxbridge pleasantries. "The trick is rolling the R's, or so I'm told.."

That was when he felt an arm slip into his and a warm hand placed on his chest. Alen knew her before he turned his head ... [member="Spencer Varanin"]. Ashin's wife. He and Ashin had been closer ... generally stabbing each other with lightsaber gives a friendly rivalry a shot in the arm, so to speak. But he had got to know the young Spencer Jacobs quite well over time. They'd even been on a 'date' once, though that was more a favour to Ashin than anything. But he remembered her well ... a playful, mischievous entity that stole Ashin's food when she wasn't looking and just happened to possibly be the most powerful Force User in the universe.

And she was dressed to kill tonight. The little black dress, the red lipstick ... that and pheromones were definitely a bad mix. Na'Varro knew he needed to separate Spencer and Jessica or something or else he'd-

“Mr. Na'Varro, you look finer than a glass of aged Corellian Whiskey.” Spencer fluttered her eyelashes, and Alen just about died. “I like this song, care to dance and catch up?”

"Aged?" Na'Varro managed with a raised eyebrow. "You sure know how to make a man feel special, Ms. Varanin."

His serious visage broke into a wry smile, and he winked at the young half-Zeltron who was addling his mind so effectively. Outwardly he was cool as a cucumber ... inwardly, he was having an existential crisis. It was the military training pulling through for him. Rule 1: Don't get lost. Rule 2: Always look like you know what you're doing. Rule 3: If you break Rule 1, just keeping following Rule 2.

"It was good to meet you, Miss Justice. Take some time to get to know everyone, we're all friends here." He grinned. "Excuse me, I've got some ... catching up to do."

With Spencer's arm in his, he led her towards the dance floor. The effect of pheromones wore off by the second, and with it Alen's internal panic attack subsided. Zeltron pheromones were all well and good, but when you were a man stuck between a girl who probably should still have been in high school and his dead friend's wife ... well, there were no good outcomes. A younger Alen would probably have just tried to get with one of them- no, scratch that, both of them. But then again, that Alen Na'Varro was a Sith Lord who enjoyed glassing worlds, among other things. A different man. A different time.

"Thank you," he said to Spencer, taking one of her hands in his and resting the other on the small of her back. All of these parties had made him a half-decent dancer, not enough to impress anyone but it wasn't like he'd disgrace himself either. Alen regarded Spencer for a second as they began to move in time with the music. He hadn't expected to see her so soon, not after ...

"How've you been?" he asked, leaving a lot of things unsaid. Sorry for not calling when Ashin died. Sorry for not talking to Ibby either. Truth be told, he couldn't say those things. Spencer would have had enough of that already.

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Well, after the business with GUIDE, Luce'd found a ride into Alliance space and been offered a somewhat steady job. Firefighter. Pretty cool, no? Except they fought fires in space, battlesship fires. In the middle of battle. People called them smokejumpers. Lucien liked that the job was all about saving lives. Felt like he was giving back in some way. Plus, it was exciting as hell.

That didn't mean Luce was raking in the dough.

Ten thousand creds? No way! Luce didn't have that kind of money. Still, this looked like the sort of party that everyone who was anyone would be at. Had to find a way to get in somehow.

So, in through the backdoor he came, pretending to be a servant. Once he was in the party proper he whipped off the stupid bow tie and vest and dumped them in a corner. Now he was just wearing a black suit and a white button down left open at the collar. Smirking to himself and tossing back long brown hair, Luce waltzed straight for the punch bowl.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Standing on a balcony away from the main partygoers, Sarge and a group of GA officers were standing around having a chat. As ever, the old Sergeant Major of the Pyre was an unassuming man, dressed in a turtleneck and khakis, a relatively cheap cigar held between his lips. The wrong side of 40, the years had been about as kind to him as one could expect, drawing lines in his face like a drought's first rain courses along cracked dirt.

The glistening black pools of his eyes were the only real indication of who he was, because between his outfit and his quiet demeanor, you'd be forgiven for mistaking him for some fresh-off-work professor. A hand rose, index and thumb brushing across opposite sides of his jaw, enjoying the scrape of fingers over his beard as he studied the uniformed men around him.

Most were in their thirties, working on being lifers, and most were married, their wives downstairs mingling and dancing while they spoke to the old veteran. In many ways, he was a distinctly modest version of [member="Alen Na'Varro"] for the evening.

"So what equipment did you take to Denon, anyway?"

Exhaling a cloud of blue smoke, the man shrugged. "Usual stuff. Though it was certainly unusual at the time. I'd long believed that with how quickly battles are fought that doubling the power of a blaster while feeding from a back-carried battery unit was the way to go. Better to use one shot and know they're down than two and hope they are. Most of us were equipped with those prototype Hellfire Blasters and carapace armor.

I had a heavy disintegrator cannon in there, too, and a pair of plasmathrowers.

Turned out to all be great choices, considering the experiments they'd been doing there." A few men nodded at that, having been taught off the grainy helmet footage he'd brought back from the fight.

It was a good lesson for dealing with conscript units who fear their leaders more than you. Kill the leader, show your power, the rest will likely scatter. Plus, it was hectic, showing the need for a clear head.

In hindsight, it was an awful lesson because there wasn't much you could learn from shouting and flashes of light, but it was taught along with a good deal of Pyre operations, so there was always that.

"Was that the first time [member="Cira"] nearly died?"

Sarge shrugged. "I wouldn't know.

But we were inserted by a modified Argevent dropship, added some more guns to it. Turned out to be pretty useful, honestly. Over the years I handchose and often had a hand in designing my own equipment. I knew what I needed, so it was just easier that way.

It's why I designed the regiment's Zero-G armor. We needed it, who better than me to design it." Another drag, another cloud of smoke. Light conversation where the crowd and festivities were just an annoying background noise. But he was avoiding speaking of Cira tonight. No sense in going down that road again. He always avoided speaking of her when he could.

It saved being unable to answer their questions.

 

[Liliane]

Lilin soon realised, though, that she didn't really know the people around her and most of them were either some serious high ranking people of the Galactic Alliance or rich as hell, so she didn't really have anything in common with them. She was just going to drink and have a good time that night, she thought, because she obviously had nobody to talk to, really.

So she slowly proceeded to walk towards the corners where she wouldn't be in the middle of everything -- some place where she could just drink her wine and look at the people having fun. Doesn't sound that bad, does it?

The party was not only for the highest ranking people, though. There were many other simple soldiers, Jedi, some simple civilians. It was a fundraiser gala, not a meeting of the most influential, so that was nice. At least there were people whom Lilin could connect to, at least for a while. Because she was a hundred percent sure she wouldn't remember half of the people she would meet that night the next day. So she had to make the most out of it.

In a PG-13 way, that is.

About a few metres away, she noticed a man in a uniform similar to what pilots wore. She didn't know if he was from the new amazing Rogue Squadron or not, but that didn't really matter. Nor would it matter that she was a Jedi Master. Pfft, not a huge deal, right?

"Hey," she said as she made it to the man. It was obvious that he wasn't really into parties and such, but she thought it would be nice to have somebody to chat, especially if you were in a place where nobody else wanted to have a conversation with you.

[ [member="Aedan Lochlan"] ]

 

[Asmus Janes]

"Now who is that?" Asmus asked, emerald eyes immediately drawn to the blonde in the slinky black number. He was in his formal uniform, besides the squadron and wing commanders.

"Oh don't even think about it Janes. That's [member="Spencer Varanin"]."

"Who?"

"Erm, Spencer Jacobs, was married to a Sith? She'd chew you up."

"Challenge accepted!" Asmus declared. A broad grin found his face.

"Oh nonono. Not this time Janes, trust us you..."

"Challenge...accepted."

"No, listen, married to the Sith Empress. You're not her type. You will literally risk death."

"Not figuratively..."

"No. Literally."

Asmus chewed this over. For a few moments there was a defiant look in his eye, but eventually he sighed and relented. "Alright. Don't suppose you've seen any togruta men around have you?"

"Just chill out and have a talk," Rogue One advised.

"But this place is booorring. Rich people are dull," Asmus protested.

"That they are," his SC agreed.

"We should have left him to it. Watched the fallout," the wing commander said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Probably would have been irresponsible. As his superior officers and all."

Asmus sighed and downed his drink. He was in a glum mood. Earlier that morning he'd been thinking back to a particular four days again. Time for another drink, he decided.

 

[Taeli Raaf]

She wasn't attending the latest party. The last one had been enough for Taeli, so she had simply sent a donation to the ball, along with a note exclaiming how she regrettably could not attend as she was needed elsewhere for business. Was that true? Welllllll she wasn't about to say that she was curled up at home with a steaming mug of Bastion Black Tea or a new book. And she was definitely not wearing a comfortable robe and listening to soft instrumental music to relax to. Nope, definitely not.

The check, totaling some 300,000 credits, would arrive at the door along with her note. That would be that.

 

[Kaili Talith]

Ten thousand was a hefty fee. Kaili was rich, but she wasn’t ‘spend ten thousand on entry’ rich. At least not by her own, and if there was one thing her parents had learned of by now it was that Kaili valued her own independence. If there was something else Kaili’s parents knew it was that their daughter was not one to avoid the occasional bit of mischief, a very childish title to an activity most people simply called ‘being a nuisance.’ Though her name hadn’t appeared on the list of invitations at first, and probably still didn’t by any official means, Kaili had still managed to work her magic to ensure that for at least a few more seconds it was.

The smile she flashed at the security would have been a dead giveaway to that. For on his screen there she was amongst the other names. Kaili Talith, plus-one [member="Allyson Locke"]. They were let through the gates without having paid a single credit. She wasn’t proud of it, of course, but in the end the money wouldn’t have gone to anything that the girl supported. War, weapons, machines for brutes performing brutal jobs that she wished didn’t have to exist. As far as the slither of guilt that she felt went, skipping the tab wasn’t the reason. The exquisite looking food and drink was.

After a quick, gentle brush against her dress Kaili extended her arm for her plus-one to latch on. And yet again, the reason was two-fold. First off because she wanted to, secondly because apparently parties had something that Allyson referred to as ‘pre-gaming’ where apparently one was supposed to get drunk before going to an event that one was attending. It all seemed like a rather nonsensical idea to the young Talith, but if that’s what people did then Kaili wasn’t exactly within her rights to complain. After all, this was the very first time that she had attended something like this. At least on an unofficial level, which was to assume this gala was the exact same thing as the wedding of Danger and Alric, though something told her that wasn’t the case.

In any case the alcohol which she had been provided earlier had been detoxified safely enough for Kaili to not turn herself into a blubbering buffoon. As much as she was certain Allyson would have enjoyed that, Kaili herself knew that was far from it.

“Look, I’m just saying it sounds kind of silly to me.” She finally spoke up as security got out of earshot of the security. “Why would I drink before I go to something like this? I mean, look around you,” Kaili spread her arm and pointed in an arch around the room. “There is a lot more to drink around here, Allyson.”

 

[Alexandra Porte]

Russo smoothed over the gold-colored dress she'd chosen to wear for the festivities after exiting the hover taxi, making sure the just-right clingy fabric lay flat over her shapely derrière, then the brandy-eyed brunette made her way into the residence of [member="Alen Na'Varro"]. It wasn't the first time the Taanabian beauty had been to the general's home on Sullust located in the richy-rich district. He had hosted the Galactic Alliance's first gala ball the year before that the former flight commander had attended on the arm of a dashing fleet captain, but that was all in the past. Thus, this time Alleycat would be flying solo, and hoping to enjoy the evening if only to get to know other Alliance members better and have some fun doing it. But who knew, the night was young. Nothing was ruled out yet...

Entering the main room where the gala patrons would eat, drink, and be merry to the wee hours of the night, Alexandra strolled across the marble floor giving friendly head-nods to those she passed, grabbing a flute of bubbly along the way off a tray presented by a server. It wasn't her preferred drink, but would do for now to get the night started. In truth, the farm girl turned fighter jockey was much more comfortable downing brews at a cantina playing pool or tinkering on her snubfighter than hobnobbing all dressed to the hills, but one did what they had to do for the sake of duty. Rogue Squadron had been invited to the gala so here Double One was.

Finally Russo's brandy-brown gaze laid upon someone in the crowd she knew; a tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome someone sporting his dress uniform to boot, and wearing it well! The long-legged brunette made her way over to [member="Aedan Lochlan"] and flashed her fellow Rogue a soft smile as she came up to the bearded man standing by himself with a drink in his hand. If only she could kick off the strappy black, high heels pinching her feet, then everything would be much better. Maybe later she might very well do that when peeps were wasted and most likely wouldn't give a care.

"Two… It's good to see you here," Alex greeted warmly, then raised the held champagne glass to her pink-glossed lips and took a sip of the pale yellow liquid; the efferenceance tickling her nose as the alcoholic beverage went down. Oh how a cold ale and a shot of fine whiskey would be more to her liking, but beggars can't be choosy when it's free.

"How are you this evening?"

 

[Dayn Wren]

Aedan nodded when he thought he saw someone look his way and maintain eye-contact for longer than a second. Some gave him a smile back, others looked as if they hadn't noticed him before that very moment and was wondering why that man in the uniform was trying to make contact with them. Ugh. There was no target computer to lock onto these social cues.

Before he knew it his glass was empty. Uh oh. Mayday. Not only was he by himself, pretending to blend in, but he lost his drink-shield. In that moment one of the waiters, the true aces of this battlefield, swept by and grabbed his glass and replaced it with another. "Cheers" he said, his eyes locked to the glass to make sure he didn't drop anything. The embarrassment from just crushing a glass or anything here would be a little too much.

Glancing sideways while he took a sip from his new drink, he noticed a girl in a classy white dress who seemed to be coming his way. What did he do now? Did he maintain eye contact until she came within talking range, or did he pretend to not have seen her and then act surprised when she came near? Maybe she wasn't even heading this way. He didn't want to be presumptuous. He went with the former, if only because the time he had taken to consider had made the latter impossible to pull off with any subtlety. Aedan tried not to stare but it was clear she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

When it became obvious that she was indeed headed to him, he smiled. Fortunately for him, even when he was nervous people had told him he looked calm as a storm. That always made him wonder, cause he didn't really think storms were that calm. They probably meant calm as the eye of the storm, but why didn't they just say that? Maybe they never had taken time to think it over too much and-oh kark she had said something. "Hi" he said back, managing to piece together the memories of what had just happened that he barely had paid attention to.

When no other words followed the initial greeting, the fear of the silence kicked in. "I'm Aedan" he held out his hand to shake hers. Did people still do that? He wasn't supposed to salute, was he? No, that was just military. Earlier he had hoped to avoid any contact, but now that he had been plunged into it he found he preferred it to the silent corner. "It's a nice party. Flashy" he said with the hint of a joke showing by the slight increase to his smile. This certainly felt grander than any party he had been to before. "So what takes you here?" Had she been summoned? Friend of the host? Possible investor-or-something for this fund raising event? The options were many but he had never seen her before.

That was when he spotted from the corner of his eye a familiar shape. [member="Alexandra Russo"] had finally shown up. It was nice to see someone he knew. At the very least he knew he wouldn't be alone deep in foreign territory. By the time he noticed her she was already close enough to open conversation. "Eleven... Glad you could make it" he raised his glass to hers. There was a little delay before he was able to get a response in. Of course he knew Russo from Rogue Squadron, but he had only seen her in a flight suit. This was... Different. She wore that dress well.

In truth, both girls looked fantastic. Aedan raised his glass to his mouth, taking a cooling drink from its contents. It was starting to get a little hot in here. "I'm great" he replied to Russo, giving the type of response everyone expected. It wasn't lost on him that he had a duty now, and to forsake it would be horrible manners. He turned to Lilin while gesturing towards Alexandra "This is Eleve-ehh, Alexandra Russo. She flies planes. Or, ships really. Not the big ones, but like starfighters. ...Yeah, youknowwhatImean" Kill me now. It was messing up her name that had set him off. Kark. Everything had been going smoothly until then.

[member="Lilin Imperieuse"] | [member="Alexandra Russo"]

 

[Nia Siroc]

Nia wasn't here because she wanted to be. But it had been 'suggested' by her teachers that she come for some rest and relaxation. She'd been wound especially tight since Dulvoyinn, they'd felt it from her. The young x-wing pilot, newly promoted and full of drink and bravado from his friends, he'd found that out too.

No, Nia didn't want to dance. No, she didn't want another drink, she'd told him while nursing her champagne. He wouldn't take no for an answer and he'd assumed the petite young woman was just shy. Nia wasn't shy, she just wasn't interested.

He was thrown to the floor when he reached for her, her reflexes coming to life amplified by her extra senses. The young pilot wasn't seriously hurt, just embarrassed as his friends came to collect him. Nia had made sure he didn't land on his head on the hard marble and the worst he'd suffered was having the wind knocked out of him. It would teach him a very sharp lesson.

Now she was up against the wall, examining the socialites, politicos and other do-nothings mingle. They wouldn't last a week on a fishing boat back home, the apprentice thought. With their haughty manners, soft hands and garish clothing. That was another thing that made her uncomfortable, her own clothing being much finer than normal.

Although it paled next to the monstrosities sported by the 'stars' of the show, her clothes felt outlandish. How could anyone live this way, surrounded by all this opulent waste? She sipped at her beverage, stifling a sneer. That wasn't something a Jedi was supposed to do.

 

[LT-137]

I was never one for parties, and even with the invitation thrust upon me by my superiors, it had taken what seemed like an age to arrive. Even then, the festivities were well under way, and it took everything within myself to not turn away. Orders were Orders, and if I didn't like them, it was still my duty to carry them out. Thus, with a heavy heart, I made my arrival to the Gala, dour mood and all. My muscular form was shrouded in the obsidian fabric of my dress uniform and marked out by the rank flashes and squadron sigil and designation. To say that I was overdressed, was an understatement. I stuck out like a sore thumb, but so too did the other members that had elected to wear their Uniforms - so in that regard at least I wasn't alone. Breathing a small sigh of relief and running a hand through the loose strands of my silver hair, I felt my resolve strength ever so slightly. However, that was a fleeting sensation as my focus fell upon the amassed throng of people below. I could barely handle any intimate interactions with my Squadron - and here they wanted me to mingle with dozens, if not hundreds of people?

Madness.

Absolute Madness.

I had to get somewhere quiet, lest the voices begin with their incessant whispering's. That was something to draw a crowd, which in turn would further send me down the rabbit hole, with no hope of ever returning. The Alliance did all they could to rebuild my mind after my enslavement, but it was imperfect, and there were still pieces of my former life that sought to spill through the cracks. A bottle of Champagne having its cork popped, caused my wide-eyed vision to snap in its direction. Were I able to experience life as an observer within my flesh, I would've seen the flicker of fear flash through my eyes. The experts called it PTSD, tense in times of peace and only comfortable when the world around you went into the gutter. I knew the symptoms, and while many of them were shared with what I was going through - it wasn't the same. It wasn't all in my head. It was seen clearly on my bare flesh. No, it wouldn't do to slide down that slippery slope. Had to get out of here...

Or, he could get something to drink to calm his nerves. Yes, that seemed like a much better plan. Couldn't let these investors believe that a Pilot from Rogue Squadron was unable to face whatever challenges lay ahead. So, with my mind made up, I swam through the sea of undulating flesh, only to come to rest at the Bar. It was there that I found several of my Squad-mates, each nursing their beverages, and some wishing they had something stronger. I waved to them but made no move to join their merriment; that was for them to enjoy - my battle needed something more than the company of those closest to me.

Downing one flute after another, I gathered my wits and held the third glass tightly between my fingers. It was going to be a long night, and I had to pace myself.

 

[Alexandra Porte]

To be honest, Russo hadn't put two and two together that [member="Aedan Lochlan"] had been already conversing with [member="Lilin Imperieuse"]; her bad. Now she felt like a heel intruding upon her fellow Rogue's game. Alleycat nervously raised her free hand and feathered some wayward sun-kissed brown wavy locks off to the side of her lightly made-up face; in doing so feeling heat grow across her cheeks at the stupid mistake or was it also from seeing the ruggedly handsome pilot up close and personal other than in his flight suit? He did clean up well after all.

Alexandra shrugged off her embarrassment, then held out her hand to the young woman in greeting; a very pretty one at that. No wonder Aeden was flustered. Yeah, she'd picked up on that.

"Nice to meet you. Please, call me Alex," she smiled in a friendly fashion, then raised the flute again to her full-lips and took another sip; this time a heartier one. Another plan of attack would need to be plotted it seemed as this target was potentially taken. Well Two wasn't actually a 'hit-on' target, but more a 'desire to get to know him better' target. Right?

"This sure is a nice place for a gala fundraiser. I would say the Galactic Alliance should do well tonight from the turnout so far."

 

[Jessica Med-Beq]

Charzon never was one for parties. She primarily designed merchant ships, like the Neimoidian Yachts, and she occasionally tried to sign contracts for bulk orders of ships, but she was primarily there to gauge the needs of the Galactic Alliance's merchant navy, especially as far as upcoming designs for lumbering ships were concerned, like the Rasta Sub and something even larger than a Rasta Sub. At the same time, she knew that it was difficult to sell capital ship-sized cargo ships, especially in the multi-million-ton range, which were doubtlessly necessary to drive the cogs of a galactic economy. But she willingly paid 10,000 credits along with wearing a blue dress purchased from JPR that cost at least as much, knowing that 10,000 credits spent on supporting the Galactic Alliance meant 10,000 less credits for the One Sith.

Spoiler

One of the guests found out that some of those socialites actually were important behind the scenes or otherwise being part of the support systems that even made the Alliance able to fight in the first place. But even that JPR dress didn't stand out in any shape or form here... and she could almost make a run to the minibar. That is, until some other socialite approached her.

 

[Liliane]

Lilin could manage to squeeze in a reply before another woman approached, "Nice to meet you, Aedan. I'm Lilin." She couldn't even start to talk about why she was there, which was actually a good thing -- Lilin didn't really know why she was there. She just felt like she had to go to this gala. Not because she really wanted to do good and support the Galactic Alliance - well, yeah, that was well - but more because of how it made her feel inside. Galas like this were not simple parties. They had a specific target of interest, as well as really elegant decorations and noble attitude to it; which were all the things Lilin liked but never seemed to be able to connect to.

"Oh, hello," she said as the other woman appeared, turning slightly more towards her. Oh hell no, had she messed up? Had the man come with a companion and Lilin had made herself a woman who would hit on the seemingly single men? It made her feel embarrassed, so she didn't really know how to react.

The embarrassment was real that night, as it seemed, as she looked at the other female individual and understood she was not feeling really great as well. Either Lilin was seriously interrupting something or the other woman had interrupted something. Huh, kind of a difficult situation. Why the hell don't schools teach how to act now?

"Nice to met you as well, Alex. I am Lilin," she said as she shook hands with the woman. It all went better than expected -- all three of them were probably feeling like real mess inside their heads. One could easily tell that by the way they all behaved. But whatever.

"Indeed, it is a fine evening tonight. I feel like we'll be doing fine." She took a subtle sip of her drink, letting the taste touch her tongue, fill her mouth and then make it down the throat. Something about that sparkling drink made Lilin want to enjoy it and not drink it in one single chug. Maybe it was just a feeling Lilin felt, though.

"Hey, are you from the Squadron? I hear they were invited here or something," the girl made a sudden realisation.

[ [member="Alexandra Russo"] | [member="Aedan Lochlan"] ]​