We Like Balls [Galactic Alliance Fund-Raiser Gala]

[Loske Treicolt]

Cheese to teeth, chew. Cracker to teeth, chew. It was a delightfully cyclical but rewarding process, and it went on as [member="Owen Holst"] discussed his decision that drove him to start piloting with the Galactic Alliance’s strongest aerial team. The mechanical enjoyment paused though, and her h’ordeurves hovered above her plate.

It seemed that so many people’s actions were driven by their blood. Watching their parents, knowing their siblings, etcetera. It, unfortantely, cast Loske backwards in an envious state while Owen knew his parents and she did not. It caused her to consider for the briefest of moments, in silence, if her direction would be different if she had been raised by her parents. If she’d known them. All familial senses were empty, hollow, void. Family was not something the little blonde pilot knew or could navigate. She bet she’d love it though.

He then turned his story to her, inquiring on her own roots and Loske had to wipe her absent expression away and re-engage. “I was recruited, got a holomail from Admiral Tevv, had dinner at his place and called it a night. Flew before with the some hue squadron in The Republic - they went south and I guess I went kinda…” she traced an imaginary map with her cracker-holding hand “-west.” (har har).

“Just kinda been bred to have wings I guess, it’s all I can remember.” This was accompanied with a shrug and a light chuckle to accompany the statement. Which wasn’t a lie. It was all she could remember because it was all that was real to her. She was a flight plan battering ram. Trained only to fly, with talents from her paternal donor, and fight, with talents from both Master Grayson and Matteo. The Force within her was silenced, muted unless triggered and otherwise unknown. All other memories were not her own; infused also from pasts and experiences that were not hers and only triggered by external events for images.

“Your dad proud of you being in the Rogue Squadron?” No sooner had the question left her tongue, than a disturbance in The Force occurred. Not that Loske knew what it was, all she knew was that for some reason, her secure grip on her carb sliver was no longer secure. As if something had pulled it from her hand, and straight back to her plate.

“What the —“ she breathed quickly, confused by the action. It’s not as if it had slipped from her hold. This was a dry piece of food. Looking at her fingers, she frowned; then cast a look around her immediate circumference. Weird. Weird. Still. It was just a cracker, nothing insane had happened. Maybe she’d got lost in thought and she had dropped it. Curious, she reached for a tomato next; balancing it between her thumb and pointer with a slight curl and loosely holding it. Maybe she’d put too much pressure on the cracker, hence its necessity to shoot away.

[member="Micah Talith"]

"Side note.." Loske began, distracting herself from that moment of confusion "-I'm totally out of the loop I guess, what's this a charity ball for. Dulyovin?"

 

[Allyson Locke]

[SIZE=10pt]Allyson glanced over and got an eyeful of the scruffy rogue. Tilting her head, she glanced at the lady that was buried deep in his scruffiness. Before Allyson could question if the woman was the same woman that Kaili claimed to be her friend, the girl answered. Looking back at Kaili she smiled and then looked towards Asmus. “Looks like you missed your chance, probably because you were too busy pandering around with the girls.” Taking a sip of her drink she smirked, the glass tilted from her lips for a second as she continued to jab at him. “Good job there Ace.” [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]A succession of a few quick sips, the whiskey was gone and Asmus was calling for another round. Kaili had the same idea and Allyson wasn’t too sure about the girl beside her. Looking at the empty glass and knowing Kaili really didn’t know too much about alcohol, she figured she’d be able to get away with slipping her something nonalcoholic. With alcohol in her system, Allyson felt the need for other things. She wasn’t the type to just sit and giggle or get angry when she drank – she felt other things. Nodding in agreement over another round, Allyson started to make her way out of the booth, but not before taking advantage of her hand placement on Kaili’s thigh. Smirking, she moved her hand upward and then down the blonde’s thigh, making sure fingers touched that delicate and sensitive inner thigh. As she did so, a glance from Allyson looked at Kaili. Asmus would know that glance from his previous meeting with Allyson Locke.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10pt]Scooting out of the booth, Allyson grasped Kaili’s hand to help lead her. A look was shot in Asmus’ direction with a raised brow. “Don’t plan on getting her too drunk tonight, I have plans with her.” Pausing she shook her empty glass at him in an attempt to scold whatever plans he had. “Blame her dress.” Making their way towards the bar, Allyson glanced towards the food and planned to make a detour there. The bar was packed and she quickly ordered Kaili a soda with cherry juice and another whiskey for herself, she gave Asmus some space so he could slip in and order himself. Unknown to her and the other two, she didn't feel the little spy device heading towards them from [/SIZE][member="Kaileann Vera"]

[member="Kaili Talith"] [member="Asmus Janes"]

 

[LT-137]

For a fleeting moment, I had believed that I saw things. Naturally, I had blamed the alcohol for causing my mind to endure such bouts of confusion, but as I began to cycle through my compartmentalized thoughts - it was almost as clear as day. There was a subtle flicker of remorse that surged through her gaze. Perhaps my question had unearthed some painful memories that she desired to keep buried? I couldn't tell. As cursed as I was, a man like me was the farthest thing from proclaiming himself to be a mind reader. For all I knew, I made the gesture up as she took a sip from her glass. While it mattered a great deal to me, as I'd hate to ruin the evening for the both of us with my booze-induced blundering, I decided to push the thought from my mind and listen intently to her story.

Of all the things that she could've told me, I had never pegged her for a Farmer's Daughter. She seemed far too elegant to have grown up on a Tanaabian Homestead, dusting crops and herding cattle. Must've been quite the upbringing. Tis a shame my story wouldn't start out so well if she asked. Here's hoping that she won't. When she had concluded her tale of a humble origin to a war hero, I was left in awe. Here I was, sitting across from someone that had flown with the Republic during the height of their power, and had led a squadron of her own into battle. Though, when she had mentioned the immense relief it was not to have to file stacks of paperwork and endure all the headaches the aforementioned reports bring - I couldn't help but agree.

There was a time I had wanted to shoulder the burden of leading my flight into combat, but my fears had gotten the better of me. With courage being such a situational thing for one such as myself, it was almost a logistical nightmare to place others under my command. So, I would do little good in making the hard choices - but having others do it for me? That meant I could do my duty in the best possible way without having to resort to a pseudo-sense of omniscience most Commander's seemed to portray.

Blinking aside the sudden and inexplicable tangent that my mind had taken, I lifted the recently opened bottle of Corellian Whiskey and tipped the edge over into Alex's glass. It seemed she needed a refill, and leaving the fluted carafe untouched for so long would cause its contents to spoil, and that was something we couldn't have this early into the night. When she had motioned that there was plenty of the amber liquid within her Glencarin, I had moved the crystalline decanter over to my own and refreshed its ailing portion.

That was when she had asked me about my past, the very question that I was secretly hoping to avoid. What was I to tell her? That before the Alliance had effectively lobotomized me; I was nothing more than a sniveling shadow of a man enslaved to an evil Enchantress? Such a tale would sour the pleasures the evening held. Even then there wasn't much I could remember of my homeworld. Nothing but endless oceans and massive sails had come to mind. Perhaps I could li- No. It wouldn't do to lie, despite how much my conscious judgment had yearned to dance around her question, I felt that there was no other way.

I had to tell her what I was before my career as a Pilot began.

It was only fair.

"I don't remember much about my homeworld, but what I do recall is the sight of an endless sea. For all I know, my origins began on a world of water, where every day I sailed across it's rippling tides, until..." I paused at this moment, buying time for my thoughts not only to piece themselves together but to word what had happened in such a way as to not spoil the festive surrounding. "Until I was taken into a vile woman's care and lived out the rest of my days, enslaved to her capricious desires."

With those words said, I didn't know how she would react. Did they come out too fast? Had I done something wrong? Was it the Whiskey talking? I wasn't sure anymore. The two of us were treading into unfamiliar waters, at least on my behalf. I had no idea if this revelation would shock and appall Alex, or if it would drive her to pity me. To be perfectly honest, I would rather her not walk down either of those paths, as it meant that the tables had turned - and it was I who dug up the graves of the most painful memories. The irony.

"But," I said in the attempt to steer the topic of conversation away from my shameful past, "Enough about me. While the past is what makes us into who we are today, I feel that it shouldn't define us in the present."

| [member="Alexandra Russo"] |

 

[Armand Temi]

Marcus seemed extremely surprised to see her, almost as though he had anticipated someone else. But that was to be expected, given their time and proximity away from each other.

Even amid the various lighting at the ball – from bright to dim to strobe lights, Sylvia’s hair was a striking, cascade of fire-red against the complimentary blue fabric of the dress. She touched the strands nervously, but then took the drink from Marcus with confidence. He was more dressed up this time, wearing a perfectly-tailored suit and tie. Formality worked well for him – perhaps like Sylvia’s dress, expensive clothing complimented his ordered techno-savvy mind.

“Same!” she replied, sipping her drink. Her face grew red again at the thought of their last encounter. Sylvia cleared her throat and said, “That’s because I’m no longer with the First Order. I defected. Not sure if they’ve had me followed or not. I’m not as experienced as you with those types of things. I wouldn’t be able to tell you if I had a spy on my tail or not.” She was being presumptuous, but since Marcus was a slicer, he was likely more eagle-eyed than her about whether an agent had been tagging along behind him.

She grinned widely, just giddy with the thought of a familiar face. Sylvia had been observing the other Rogues, both the men and the women and there was a predatory tiger-like quality to some of them when it came to the opposite sex. The female pilots seemed especially sexy and quite confident with wide gestures, bold laughter and legs for miles. The redhead half expected one of them to sail over and interrupt the reunited duo, but they were in a somewhat isolated spot.

“I’m Rogue Fifteen of Rogue Squadron,” the pilot said. “It’s so good to see you,” she continued, though her smiling face said it all in that department. “Just what have you been up to?”

[member="Marcus Lok"]

 

[Asmus Janes]

[member="Allyson Locke"]

"Ah, you lose some, and you win some," Asmus replied with a coy smile. "What's important is that you have fun trying."

Oh, behave yourself, they seem lovely together, he thought. The bartender approached and Asmus couldn't help himself. He ordered two of the cocktails that Kaili had been drinking before. Partially because they looked quite tasty, but mostly because he could then make up for Allyson ordering the sensitive soul an alcohol-free drink. Honestly, people needed to learn the hard way. She looked old enough to look after herself anyway.

"You see Locke, there's just nothing in it for me to keep the poor girl sober. But I figure another drink or two and she'll be in the honesty zone," Asmus said, lifting his two extravagant drinks from the bar. Someone had once told him that drinks that came with straws were not for me. Asmus had enquired as to which millennium he had been born in, before being frozen in carbonite.

"Shall we get some food to try and help Kaili soak it up?" he asked.

 

[Marcus Lok]

So she had defected... Perhaps even the First Order had been fooled by her seeming compliance and rigidity at first glance! The night on Soceras had taught him a great many things about Sylvia, and she could certainly take care of herself.

At any rate, she seemed to be much more comfortable in this setting. Perhaps these sort of parties fit better with her, as they certainly offered no real steady ground with him. The suit that he wore now had hardly seen any use, and although it was well fitted to the man it was designed for, Marcus couldn't help but wonder if he should even be in it! It was just one of those instances when one believed the person across from them had a thousand more grains of confidence than they.

"I can't say I see anyone particularly suspicious... But who knows? They could have hired me."

He gave her a smile in his best effort to show that he was only teasing her. He couldn't say that he was completely unfamiliar with being followed, in fact it happened enough to him in his early days that he had gotten use to blending into crowds!

Marcus sipped at his drink calmly and enjoyed what confidence the sweet nectar brought. He wasn't altogether nervous when in social situations, but when it was with someone like Sylvia, he found that it was easier to talk with a bit of alcohol in his system. At the mention of her new position, he was slightly surprised. The Alliance seemed to be very trusting, especially with a former member of what he could only assume was an enemy organization to their cause. Perhaps it was just because she was such a skilled pilot... and of Rouge Squadron! Now that commanded a heap of respect.

"I've been keeping myself busy... You'd be surprised how many people need honest technicians like myself!.. And I hope you have been getting on with your... Squad Mates? Is that what you call them?"

Marcus was by no means a naval man, and he was all too aware that it might show in his use of these terms... Perhaps the depths of a circuit board would always prove to be more his speed.


[member="Sylvia Nuru"]

 

[Asher]

So Loske was another soul brought on from the Republic then. Owen tilted his head with an understanding perk of his brows. A lot of people had come from them, enough the man to count Loske as little else but a statistic in that regard. Still, Loske was handpicked by chief-meister himself, the top dog, big one with the big gun, all the nicknames that would make the fact that Loske was here just a little more interesting, fascinating. And her comment about being ‘bred to have wings’ struck a chord in him. As odd as it may have been for someone on Rogue Squadron, Owen himself hadn’t exactly been ‘born with wings’ as his companion called it. He simply had a knack for it when it came to going for those tight maneuvers that put him at an advantage. Now that was, if anything, was most likely why he was even standing with Loske this evening.

“Yeah, I think so. My mother certainly spreads my name to her friends’ daughters. Some sons too, come to think of it.” Equal-Opportunity, nothing wrong with that. “Nothing’s ever come of it th- You okay?”

Owen looked at the cracker as it fell back to the plate. He stifled the snicker growing in his stomach for the sake of Loske’s dignity.

“I think it’s to raise awareness.” Owen added in a last second effort to keep himself from tsking. “Awareness for how much it costs to build a flagship.”

The snicker was allowed to break free under the false pretenses that it was at his own joke. He sighed gently in relief.

“You even got suits over there,” He pointed towards one of the bars occupied by a more ‘suit and tie’ looking kind of bunch sipping watered down wine and eating ten-grand crackers with cheese. “Overheard them before talking about how the ‘Starboard Shield Array could be made more efficient by cutting down worker spending by half and off-shoring the rest on Muun’ as well as other similar ideas.”

“Yeah, no. Thank the gods I am not in a suit and tie. I’d much rather you shoot me here and now, Five. Let me tell you that.”

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Kaili Talith]

Hand traversing up and down. Wow. The blonde’s lower lip was already starting turning pale by the time she had to get up and out of her seat. Her jaw eased up, blood was allowed to circulate around her lip again. It tickled, but hardly as much as the drink that she was provided with. Cherry was one of her weak spots flavor-wise. The rounded sweetness of well-hung berries that made the rounds in the ‘Stop being a damn perv’ circles on the Holonet. She got to work on extracting the juice when suddenly she found herself with yet another drink like the one she had before.

A confused look darted between the new drink and the soda as her eyelids struggled to remain open.

“I like thish guy!” Kaili exclaimed rather happily as she proceeded to pour her cherry soda into the new drink with uneven accuracy. “He knowsh me. We get along, he’sh great.”

The kid was practically an image of content and drunk at that point.

“Sho, how did you two meet?” She said, closing her eyes and perking her eyebrows. “Not shure you talked about that before. I didn’t listen.”

[member="Asmus Janes"] // [member="Allyson Locke"]

 

[Armand Temi]

The thought that Marcus could be a spy for the First Order was intriguing – the stuff of holomovies with a photogenic lead actor and actress who then fell in love fraternizing with the enemy. Not a simple pilot and a slicer. Although the Mandalorian – she recalled he mentioned something about clans and such – was handsome, strikingly so. Sylvia should know as she’d seen and felt him up close and personal. Her eyelids lowered bashfully for a moment as she recalled her how her own lithe, shapely limbs had curled around his sturdy, muscular frame that night.

“I suppose we’re just called Rogues,” said Sylvia. “I mean… I think?”

Her lack of knowledge about the Rogue Squadron spoke to her workaholic nature. Rarely did the redhead socialize with her fellow pilots. She grimaced a little at the embarrassment that she didn’t have much of a connection with them at all.

“But I do know most of them call each other by their numbers. And we all have call signs.” Sylvia couldn’t remember if she’d shared hers with Marcus yet. The night at the Angel’s Den had been such a blur of Tatooine Sunrises and soft kisses. Something she hoped would be repeated tonight. Maybe not the overindulgence of alcohol, though her drink was smooth going down. She peeled her bright, red lips from the edge of the glass and said, “My nickname is Red Devil. I don’t know if I told you that. Do you slicers have call signs?”

[member="Marcus Lok"]

 

[Marcus Lok]

It was quite odd to see Sylvia struggle to find a proper term to describe her squad mates as well. For an acclaimed pilot, he would figure she might spend some considerable time with the rest of her fellow pilots, however, it was all too possible that she simply hadn't found the time. Being new to a group never breeds much confidence.

At the mention of her call sign, he could hardly believe that it came from her temperament. The first night that he had spent with the young pilot had been one of almost heavenly bliss, and in the softened light of the private room on Soceras, he believed he had truly discovered why the joint had been christened The Angel's Den.

"Not really, although I have known a few that are proud enough to take them. Do you think I should have one?"

He could think of a few for her, and quite a few would be too lewd to grace the ears of the public. With another swig from his cup, he began to feel a comfortable confidence that coupled this type of situation so well. He supposed that alcohol may have been one of the reasons he had been so calm on Soceras, not batting an eye to the prospect of snogging with a complete stranger, no matter how well it had turned out for him... And hopefully her.

[member="Sylvia Nuru"]

 

[Allyson Locke]

Allyson shot Asmus a look that could kill. The man was quite determined to get Kaili even more drunk and the honesty zone? Why would he want her to be honest? Allyson wrinkled her nose in frustration, but it quickly softened as she listened to how happy Kaili was with the drinks in her hand. A soft sigh and Allyson nodded in agreement into getting Kaili some food. Though she doubted the girl could make her way towards the buffet table. “Sure you have fun ordering her drinks, but you’re not the one that has to hold her hair back afterwards. Be courteous to me, I’ve always been nice to you”

Sticking her tongue out, she wrapped her arm around Kaili’s waist mostly to help guide the girl to the buffet table where Allyson would slowly begin to pick out food. The other rogues were chatty, but she looked towards Asmus and continued to frown. “What's the need for her to be honest?” Of course it was then Kaili decided to speak up and question how Asmus and Allyson knew each other.

The color faded from Allyson’s face as she tried to think of something on the spot. Musing about it, she figured Kaili was probably beyond the point where she would honestly remember every detail of the night. A bite of her lower lip and a moment of silence, then Allyson spoke quickly. “A mission.” Trying to think faster she grabbed a sandwich and plopped it onto the plate. Holding it up in front of Kaili so the girl could bite it, Allyson continued. “We uh broke a blockade, was pretty awesome. Asmus was of course no use, but he did good work.”

Tilting her head to the side and trying to keep her next comment muffled, she smirked. “It was a good thing, he’s so good with his hands…” [member="Kaili Talith"] [member="Asmus Janes"]

 

[Armand Temi]

“Of course you should,” said the redhead enthusiastically. “Sometimes you get a call sign for being brave and heroic, but most of the time your fellow pilots name you after you do something stupid.” Sylvia laughed, her eyes darting off to the side for a moment and then back to Marcus. “I can give you a call sign if you want,” she offered. “How about this,” she said, clearly about to strike a deal. She held her hands up a competent negotiator would. “You tell me a crazy story of yours… one where you almost got hurt… or even killed. Or even better, did something idiotic. And I’ll give you a nickname."

Rogue Fifteen smiled, eager to hear more of Marcus’s life. When the two of them were on Soceras there were many other more physical distractions that they took advantage of rather than talk all night. It was a little strange to think that she likely knew more about the slicer’s kissing style, and whether he wore boxers or briefs than the actual details of his life.

“And I’ll even throw in a bonus,” she added. “I will tell you how I got the name Red Devil"

Out of character, she winked at him, but the alcohol was beginning to affect her. However the difference between this Alliance Ball and the Angel’s Den is she wanted to get to know the hacker a little better. I mean, if I’m going to spend the night with someone, I should really try to find out a little about their background after the fact, she thought amused at the twist of fate that had brought them together again. Yet this time, no matter what happened, Sylvia was not going to squander her time. The galaxy was in turmoil, with wars flaring up and whispers of an invasion of Coruscant looming. If that was the case, she would likely ship out to the Sith capital for an assignment, be paired up with a fellow Rogue, and either by luck or by the Force, hopefully she'd return home alive and in one piece.

[member="Marcus Lok"]

 

[Micah Talith]

[member="Loske Matson"]

Oh this was fun.

This was alot of fun.

The devil hung upon Micah’s lips as he caught the expression of extreme befuddlement wash over the leggy blonde’s expression. It turned into a short laugh, once the Talith saw her glance around warily. She looked up, from side to side, then back at the offending piece of cracker.

​

However, it was when Loske carefully balanced a tomato between her thumb and pointer finger that really made the young man chuckle. The way she was looking at it with mild suspicion was enough to tempt him to bother her again.

Up came his hand. Down came his pointer finger. A slight telekinetic push to prompt the tomato slice to plop down upon her plate. Thankfully, it wasn’t enough force to scatter the juicy seeds. But he was sure the resulting after effects of confusion was enough to give the mischievous Talith a wider smirk.

 

[Marcus Lok]

Marcus gave an inquisitive smile as she explained the boundaries of her deal. It was a simple proposal, but one that left him wondering what story he could possibly tell. He was not the one to brag, but if he were, the fact that nearly every one of his jobs had gone off without a hitch wouldn't leave him with much to tell her... Then he had it. There had been one job that he had very nearly botched.

"I guess that's fair enough..."

Aside from the deal, he would have probably told her these stories over a drink anyways, as she did have a bit of a right to know. The thought that he still knew very little about her character beyond the fact that her piloting skills were outmatched only by her skills under the sheets was the cause for a bit of shame. He could tell her of his Mandalorian background, but that would probably be better kept in his own pocket and out of the eye of the current crowd. From what he knew about the relations between the Mandalorians and the Alliance, the latter was not entirely crazy about the former. The thought that one day he could be asked to fight against the Alliance... And their pilots... Well, he only hoped that the day would never come.

Now for the story...

"Lets see... Once I was on a job on Fondor. I had barely any money to my name and it was one of those kinds of jobs that really decide if you will have any future employers, kind of like tryouts... Anyways, there was a man I was supposed to capture, a rowdy spacer who had skipped out on more than his fair share of meetings with the Hutts. I waited out in the spaceport for days until one day I finally found a man that fit his description."

As he recounted the details, memories of the job flowed back into his mind. It certainly hadn't been one of his shining achievements, but at least he had gotten his man in the end... He always wondered what happened to him after Zargo's guards took him off to one of the holding cells...

Probably Rancor food...

"So there he was, this robed vagrant shuffling through these streets without a care in the world, imagine my luck! So I duck into an alleyway and set myself up to... Well... Grab him. I get my arms around the guy, and imagine my surprise when I grab a Jedi Padawan, lightsaber and all!

It had been quite an embarrassing mistake, and one that might have been liable to destroy his career before it had began on some backwater world. In his own mind the justifications now flew in from all sides. His face had been concealed... He could have hardly known! But he knew it was a mistake that not many would make after a few runs. Getting the right man was half the job after all!

"I hope I didn't bore you too much, not exactly a life threatening heist..."

Quite uncomfortable at the pit he had dug himself, he stared down into the depths of his glass and stirred it idly with the provided black straw.

[member="Sylvia Nuru"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

“You okay?”

She nodded sheepishly while horror started from her forehead down to her chin at the realization that [member="Owen Holst"] had seen her minor freakout. Hopefully he didn’t think her a spazz and liable to pull some sort of stunt like that in combat. As it was, Loske was a mildly logical person - a trait heavily injected from her paternal DNA. At this point though, there was no logic to explain why the cracker had been torn from her grip. Which just left her confused and flustered.

He quickly changed the conversation though, and she was more than happy to oblige, following his point to the tailored group hovering about the bar. She smirked and shook her head “I dunno, politics are not my forté.” They were her ‘mother’s’ though. “Cut spending here, pour it into this that and the other thing.” Her free hand waved dismissive loops. “Though if you were in a suit, I’d probably have to hire someone else to shoot you. Y’know, so my hands remain perceivably clean.”

She was about to flick the tomato upward and into her mouth when, once again, it forcibly disinclined to acquiesce and shot from her grip. The tomato found the edge of the plate dissatisfying, and continued its journey over the rim and to the pilot’s toes.

“Are you serious?” She hissed, taking a step back and looking down at the vegetable (or fruit?). She stole a sidelong look to the left and right hurriedly, furrowing her brows. This was insanely illogical. Was this plate demonized, like that robot and lightsaber hilt she’d touched in the past? Maybe Loske would have to see some sort of religious entity to review her soul, or a doctor. These strange things were happening far too frequently to be anything healthy. At least the tomato hadn’t shown her visions of its time on the vine!

She could ask Owen his opinion, if he was seeing anything, but he may just figure her fingers were heck greasy and her grip awful. With a slight upset, she frowned and decided to put her plate into the nearest compactor. In the mean time though, she’d have to clean up after herself. Creasing her knees in unison, due to the constraints of the skirt, she dropped to scoop up the renegade red morsel and put it back to her plate. An unknowingly perilous setup for [member="Micah Talith"].

In the meantime, she carried on the conversation, baby blues continuously searching for any sort of visible explanation. Maybe a really long pokestick.

“Naboo’s a pretty fancy dressing planet, though. You don’t sport those frocks in your spare time?”

Some shins appeared in her view, and she looked upward as some of the waitstaff appeared to herself and her conversation companion. Presenting a tray of sparkling, bubbly flutes, they extended the offer: "Champagne?"

How did they keep it stacked like that!

 

[Armand Temi]

Leaning her hip against the bar, passing her drink up to her lips occasionally, she listened to Marcus’s story. Her eyes fully engaged now, all of the other distractions fell away around her – the raucous noise, cheers, breaking glasses, wild dancing that had started, even around them. Even despite someone standing on her foot momentarily, to which she mouthed “Ouch,” Sylvia never took her gaze off of Marcus.

She had so many questions too. Did anyone hire the slicer? She assumed he sat in safe houses behind a bank of computer terminals and datapads, but his tale made it sound as though he was a hired mercenary of sorts. And it sounded a little dangerous, which was both disconcerting and also a little thrilling. Especially if he was mixed up with the Hutts.

Sylvia smiled as he finished and said, “Oh no, not boring at all. In fact now I have a call sign for you. Jedi Jumper.” The redhead pilot giggled, covering her bright red lips with her hand as she tried not to laugh too hard. It was a joke of course, and she hoped he didn’t mind her teasing. Because there was something humorous about the story after all – thinking a Jedi was a vagabond. Well, they sort of did look either homeless or a little like religious figures in those thick, brown, hooded snuggies.

Rogue Fifteen blushed instinctively as she launched into the story of her call sign. Taking a huge gulp of alcohol – she was going to need it to get through the slightly bawdy recollection - she finally said:

“I was hanging out with my fellow pilots at the Coruscani Pilot Institute, and we were all drinking ale. Of course. And I was a little tipsy… well, actually a lot tipsy because I normally don’t do these kinds of things.” Thinking back on the memory, her fellow students were lucky she even took on the dare that she did. “But truthfully at school, I was a total square. And I really wanted to come out of my shell and show everyone that I wasn’t this workaholic, teacher’s pet, which I completely was.” Tracing the rim of the glass with an orange, manicured nail, she said, “We all hated our professor Lieutenant Rowan, and come to find out that every Saturday night he would have a different… companion, let’s call them, who would come to his room in the dormitories, which was very much against the rules. My fellow classmates dared me to pose as the companion for the night, so I said yes… I wore like this feathered mask around my eyes so he wouldn’t recognize me and well, that’s how I got my name. Through the dare.”

She opened her mouth for a moment, her eyes panicked, “I didn’t sleep with him, mind you! No, in fact when he tried to kiss me, I excused myself to the refresher and climbed out of the bathroom window.” Well, she had jumped into bed with Marcus quite easily, but her story was the honest truth, and hopefully he didn’t think she was a girl with loose morals. Because both activities - with her professor and with the dark-haired slicer on Soceras were very unusual for the straight-laced pilot. Still, Rogue Fifteen showed an aptitude for subterfuge, which was not a bad skill to have in such fragile, unpredictable environs that the both of them would find themselves in.

[member="Marcus Lok"]

 

[Asher]

The tomato hit the ground and Owen had followed it from cracker to toe. The lineup was too perfect for it, and the fact that it happened twice in a row left a window open for the suspicion that maybe, just maybe, something wasn’t the way it seemed. The woman in front of him hissed and looked around her and Owen did the same. The grin on his lips still lingered, but whether or not it was because of the situation they were in or not was up for debate. Maybe he was just born with it, maybe a grin was to him what a frown was to many others.

Nah, hardly. Loske knelt down to pick up the errant tomato and put it back on her plate. Owen himself couldn’t help but let that grin turn into a grimace.

“Yeah, no, not all of us.” He said off-handedly and reached for a napkin. “Please tell me you’re not eating that.” The grimace was still going on strong. “The floor. So many feet. Dirt, hygiene, infections.”

Deep down Owen was an almost obsessive-compulsive neat freak. He never asked for the life, but it was what he had. He made the most of that. He usually had it under wraps when out in public, but if for whatever reason the Squadron would swing by his place there would be hell to pay for the smallest of things. He kept his tools sorted by length in color-coded cases, he kept all drinks safe atop of coasters. Home was a haven for order, he had long since learned to respect that not everywhere he went such would be the case. This gala was by no means an exception to that either.

Or well, almost.

“Napkin, trash can over there.” He handed it over for his friend to grab. “Please?”

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Alexandra Porte]

Alexandra nodded an appreciative thanks to [member="Lucius Varad"] as he refilled her glass from the open bottle of Whyren's Reserve on the table. The premium whiskey was going down way too smoothly. The Taanabian was trying to savor it, but with each additional sip of the rich amber liquid tossed back the will to drink the spirit slowly got watered down. At this rate, Alleycat would be feeling real good sooner than later.

The brunette listened thoughtfully as Lucius shared his story with her. Alexandra could see the details were painful for the silver-haired pilot to tell, and he seemed a bit unsure afterwards of how she might take it all and think of him. Well that was her guess anyways.

Alexandra smiled with only understanding and compassion in her brandy gaze as her hand reached across the table and set gently upon his forearm. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. It must have been very hard," she said with a soft smile, then added after a moment of reflection.

"And yes, the past does have a way to mold us, but shouldn't be the sole maker of who we are today. I know that I wouldn't be the pilot I am today if it wasn't for the personal challenges that I had to endure growing up, plus the people that have, and are, touching my life now."

Alleycat removed her hand from his forearm, then long slender fingers wound around the tulip-shaped glass. She raised it with a slight cant to her companion, then took an unabashed hearty slow sip, relishing in the fiery burn and the heady feeling from it engulf her mind, body, and soul.

"So … are you going to grace us with another song?" she inquired of Lucius playfully with a mischievous grin. "I really enjoyed the last one."

 

[Marcus Lok]

Jedi Jumper...

Marcus stirred his drink idly has his mind drifted over the name. It certainly had not been the worst name he had ever received, and it certainly wasn't the most flattering. In the back of his mind he sincerely hoped that she would not take to calling him that, by the force that would be terrible! The last thing he would need from a name like that would be for someone to ask about it later on, and then the story would be passed around like candy in a nursery... That would hardly help business.

Though the recollection of the past mistake had slightly bruised his pride, he found his composure almost immediately upon gazing on Sylvia. Perhaps he hadn't noticed it before, or maybe the alcohol was taking effect, but she was drop dead gorgeous in this light. Her hair was resembled cascading rivers of pure magma that would shame the most volcanic peaks of Sullust, he did not doubt that she knew it. She exuded a confidence that instilled a comfort in the calculating eyes of the slicer who, in most recent days, had only found the cold hard stares of gangsters and hunters as he worked their problems out on a dull blue screen. With the knowledge that moments like this were forever fleeting, and the cold realities of the galaxy ever approaching to extinguish the relaxing hum of a musician's instrument under the mood lighting of a Sullustian mansion, he listened to her tale with care and an undivided interest.

As much as he would like to believe otherwise, he truly believed that the word Square might have fit her rather well when she was in the academy. It was not that she seemed this way now, but more so how the excitements of the galaxy seemed to take an impact on her. A normal man might not have noticed her small fidgets, or the way that she seemed to blushed every time she looked at him. He knew why, and he was sure that his own cheeks had flushed red when she had given him the "Call Sign".

"I'm sure you got a better rep after that! Did the professor ever find out about the 'Red Devil'?"

[member="Sylvia Nuru"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Rogue Fifteen shook her head. “Nope. He never found out. But aside from peer pressure,” said Sylvia. “Just coming out of my shell a little bit went a long way in… well, not erasing my goody-goody persona, but at least allowing my peers to see me in a different light.”

She wasn’t sure what that said about her, that she had been so eager to fit in she did something she wouldn’t normally do, or that she was waiting for the opportunity to dive into a challenge. The redhead liked to think it was the latter.

Tongue tied for a moment, Sylvia sipped her drink, finally feeling a little tipsy from the strong mixture. Abruptly a mechanical engineer – or at least he seemed dressed like one in fatigues and a utility belt still filled with tools – bumped into her from the back, and her glass nearly went flying. Rogue Fifteen wasn’t one to yell so in her high-heels, she scooted closer to Marcus as the drunken Alliance mechanic wildly gesticulated behind her telling his own crazy story.

“Sorry,” she said with an apologetic look. Sylvia was so close that Marcus would be able to smell her perfume which was a mix of fresh wildflowers and sandalwood. The music seemed to rise even louder, the DJ likely trying to drown out the escalating raucousness of the ball. Another glass broke nearby.

“We could get out of here if you want,” she suggested. “It’s Sullust, so there’s not too many places to go outside, but we could explore the manor. I’m sure no one will notice us walking around.” Sylvia wasn’t sure that either of them would be allowed to roam the volcanic mansion of Master Na’varrao, but like the dare with her old professor at the Pilot Institute, sometimes you just had to break the rules. As long as the rewards were worth the risk in in this case, the answer was yes.

[member="Marcus Lok"]