Sweet Home Corellia

Under normal circumstances, it would be prudent to take off from a planet where one has just committed a major crime in a very public location, but then again.. People don't usually have connections within the city where that crime took place. Nor is it especially easy to pick out one Corellian from another when they're all lined up in a row, I mean seriously.. they've got that general 'look' about them. Alac is sitting with one leg up on the loading ramp of the General Lesuvius and the other down on the durosteel tarmac on which it's parked. His Blaster pistol is out infront of him with his thumb checking the charge level with a critical eye, mostly to keep the riff-raff from interloping in his business by making it obvious he's armed. The wide brimmed fedora lays on the deck plates beside him and his dark brown hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, with the rest sort of clinging together because of the oil content.

"Two. I want two of them. Yes, I know I can only drive one at a time. I also don't care. You get me two or I walk." The illustrious and stylish Wynn Ryder is wandering into the spaceport, clearly dressed to make sure impressive is the word that everyone think of and then some. His suit black, made from some animal's leathery hide and shining enough that it looks like he's wearing the galaxy. If he moves any faster, it'd probably look like Hyperspace. But right now, he's on a stroll, holding his flip-com up to his ear and being as vocal about his needs as Ryderly possible. He's not exactly paying attention to anyone that is not on his communication device right now, more intent to just make his way towards the Feature Presentation. Which, by the way, happens to be in the Elite Parking Section. Being rich does have its advantages.

She's probably not rich, she doesn't sport a gun, but the crimon twi'leki amazon crossing the starport with quiet barefoot steps would be hard to overlook, even in Wynn's situation. Ka'una has a leather bag slung over her left shoulder..white leather, matching her clothes not only in color but also in the actual nature of the leather. It seems empty, the twi'lek humming a soft tune as her eyes turn left and right occasionally during her stroll, the twi'lek quietly peoplespotting as she makes sure not to walk into any of the busy starport workers, space jockers, and the rather drastically increased imperial security presence that, without doubt, is lining anything that might look of importance right now. War makes everything so complicated.

Her lekku, of which she sports an impressive four, are wrapped around each other as they hang down her back, like a form of exotic braid, the shapes seemingly even more complex with all the metallic blue tattoos on them mixing up and breaking the shapes.

The Coronet spaceport is, as usual, quite busy. Beings come and go at various speeds, some rushing to their next appointment, some strolling while taking in the sights. There's one that moves slower than them all, though, coming from the direction of Trader's way. Step by agonizing step he moves, his right leg taking all the weight that is can, his cane taking most of what it cannot. His left foot scrapes against the ground, not quite managing to clear it, though it isn't heard above the din of arriving and departing ships.

He continues on his way, in the general direction of one of the YT-2400s, his eyes scanning the denizens absently. Of course, just because he isn't looking for someone, doesn't mean he won't find him all the same. And in this case, the someone he finds is Alac. The visible portion of his face hardens, almost as much as the plasteel of his mask that covers the rest of it, and his steps shift, bringing him toward his unkempt compatriot.

Alac might not be actively observing his surroundings, but that doesn't mean he's not observing them all the same. It comes with the territory, be casual but don't /look/ like you're being casual. Two people in particular draw his attention, one of them is a red twi'lek with four lekku.. which is itself a fairly rare enough occurance to be one of those 'whoa' moments, even if there's no great show about it from the gruffy drifter.. The other is the man approaching him in a half steel mask. This one, this particular one, does grab his attention fully.

If he were to /see/ Wynn, things would be different, but sofar the rich actor has passed by his observation as the approaching cane clicks on the steel to add it's rhythm to the noise that always polutes the spaceport. Sliding slowly down off the deck plates, his blaster rolls around his finger and slides down into it's holster so that his free hand can take his large hat and slip it back onto his head after smoothing his hair down flat beneath it. "Mornin'." Said, once the man's gotten within conversational distance, careful about keeping his hand back near the sling of his gunbelt, away from the grip itself.. Casual. But not /too/ casual.

Ka shows no particular signs of recognizing the actor, tho certainly her gaze lingers on the, quite obviously, well dressed high class citizen. Well, if anything, the twi'lek seems lacking education when it comes to the entertainment industry. Her free hand however, reaches into her vest, and pulls out a small datapad which she seemingly flips through, her gaze wandering up to her surrounding and back down to the list often enough, to also notice the man in that weird mask..

"Yeah, uh, whatever. I'm definitely going to have to com you back. New business." And the comcall is ended with so much speed that even the great Wynn Ryder is surprised by the fury in which is finger presses buttons and he ends up sliding his way across the spaceport and blatantly headed in the direction of the red twi'lek woman. Oh yeah. Now this is definitely more his speed.

Somewhere in the midst of wandering stylishly in that direction, he's managed to check his hair, breath and spin around a random being pushing a card of supplies and he pulls on his tinted specs, which immediately fade to a twi'lek matching red (color changing lenses are expensive as hell, but still, that's how Wynn does it) and he's cracking a huge smile without even missing a beated step.

"Please tell me you're about to ask me for my autograph. Because if don't, I'm going to have to struggle for a reason to make your acquaintance." That would be Wynn Ryder close enough to the vicinity of Ka'una to let his opening line be heard.

Charming Smile Activated.

The gentleman hasn't noticed Starlight Studios' newest, most sought-after star; his eyes are only for Alac, at the moment. And judging from his face, not in a good way. Of course, that could just be the effect the strange mask has on his features, giving every expression he makes a rather more sinister cast.

He does not speak until he's quite close to the other man, which takes quite a while in his present state. His steps drag on and ever on, stretching his silence from ominous to completely over the top. Finally, though, he arrives at his destination, a meter or so away from the other Corellian. "Good morning," he replies, his tone surprisingly pleasant. "Had a pleasant evening, did you?" His tilts his head to one side, regarding Alac with an exaggerated air of curiosity.

Alac isn't too much bothered by the drawn out approach. Or more specifically, spends that time wisely, watching Bod with a serious glint in the brown of his eyes. From inside his coat a cigarro arrives between two fingers, rolling slowly beneath his nose before slipping inbetween his lips. The only moment inwhich he's not watching the masked man is at the point where the blue flame of his small lighter snaps to burn the end to life in an orange glow and steel gray smoke.

Turning a little, a bit of tobacco leaf is spittled from the top of his bottom lip, free then to answer the question, "Alcohol was pretty good.. Not so sure the finger foods sat well with me.." Laying a hand on his flat stomach beneath the black dewback leather vest. "Allergies." By way of explaination, "How'd tha' one fella end up? Look't like he weren't in very good health when I left." Lips pulling in tight with a long drag, smoke curling out of either nostril.

And Ka'una? Well! She certainly seems surprised. Not 'oh god a star is talking to me!' kind of surprised, but more a 'Huh, what's going on?' kind of, the hand with the datapad lowering as she looks the man over. Tho, if anything, she seems to be quick to realize and react, as a grin begins to spread thise crimson lips of hers as she looks at the man..potentially looking down at him. "Ah...an autograph?" she asks..before she suddenly crosses her arms, letting go of the leather bag, kind of elegantly letting it slide down to come to a rest between her feet, as her lekku uncurl. "Why, are you saying that you actually need a good -reason- to make my acquaintance?"

"I'm pretty sure your existence is reason enough. But I wouldn't want you thinking that I'm only interested in you for trivial reasons such as lust and infatuation. While those are some of the initial reasons, I'd also like to get to know you. The you inside." Wynn even takes to pressing a hand to his heart as he confides these words with genuine flare and just a slightly overdramatic tone to his voice. He's clearly overplaying his hand at this point, but there has to be a reason that he's doing such. "As wounded as I am by your lack of knowledge as to who I am, please allow me to introduce myself..." And a hand is extended to offer Ka a pleasantly platonic shaking of the hand. "Wynn Ryder, Starlight Studios' New Hope."


 * 1) HumbleBrag.

"Ah," Smitherbodkins says, shaking his head with dramatic sadness at his revelation about the food, "I am so sorry. Had I known you were going to attend, I would have had something else prepared." That's why it's really important to RSVP to these things. Especially if one is planning on bringing some fireworks. "I suppose I should chalk it up to your understanding of the meaning of the word 'discreet?'" He raises an eyebrow, his gaze boring into the man in front of him.

"Sadly, my guest was not quite as fortunate as you. He died. So tragic."

"Hey, in my defense, it coulda been the food.." Alac offers with a shrug of one shoulder, twisting the cigarro a little as smoke curls up from his nostrils to dissipate in the air above him. Not to mention that the employer wanted it to be 'undiscreet'. Sometimes it's needed, others.. No grin, no teasing, just a blase expression on his unshaven face. "Sorry to hear about your guest. Seemed like a proper fella, I'm sure the world is gonna miss him terribly." All dry and not even trying to sound like he means it. The smoke goes back to his mouth rolls between his teeth with guidance of his tongue to one corner.

Ka's eyes finally widen, as the man, at least in part, reveals just why he looks the way he does. Starlight Studios. Everybody with even remote holonet access has heard of Starlight. Even if Ka doesn't seem to have heard of this particular man. "Ohh...an actor! That explains a few things.." she says and smiles wide, before she takes his hand and shakes it. "Ka'una. Ka'una La, if you prefer a basic-normed document name. Nice to meet you, mister Ryder.." She slightly cocks her head, and a hint of a pout moves those lips. "I hope you're not mad when I say that I'm terribly uninformed about you. Perhaps that will prove to be refreshing for a change."

"Oh, that's perhaps the best way to be when it comes to me. It just means that you'll have a chance to get to know me. Over and over and over and over again." Oh, the cad that is Wynn Ryder has no problem with laying it on as thick as he is. His arms crossing over his chest at this point and his gaze not even daring to wander from the twi'lek that he's chatting up at this exact moment. He's really the most comfortable when he's around the opposite sex, regardless of their being status. He's so Captain Kirk. "Then again, I suppose I could say that your lack of knowledge wounds my inner child and that the only way to make up for this indiscretion would be to allow me to take you out. Perhaps a unyielding night of unbridled passion... for adventure." Immediate grinning follows. "You look as though you enjoy a good adventure." If anybody knows anything about Wynn, he's not talking about an actual adventure.

The gentleman nods, "Oh yes. His death shall prove a great blow to our Imperial overlords." Just then, one of those Imperial overlords passes by. Well, not an overlord. Not even an underlord. Just one of those ubiquitous and highly expendable extras, known only by a number to any but those most intimate to him. Actually, probably even to those, too. He looks stunned, his gaze bouncing ineffectively between the two men. Are they talking about what he thinks they're talking about? He frowns, stepping back and removing a comlink form his pocket, beginning to talk quietly on it as he backs away. Slowly.

Smitherbodkins doesn't spare him even a brief glance. He continues to regard Alac; thoughtful, calculating even. Finally, he reaches into a pocket of his coat, producing a credstick. "I did not fully understand who I was dealing with, before," he says, tapping the stick experimentally against his chin. "I think I do now." Without another word, he holds the stick out toward Alac, waiting for him to accept.

Smitherbodkins gives a pile of Standard Galactic Credits to Alac.

Ka arches an eyebrow. Well. if she had any, she would certainly be arching one, with the facial motion she presents there, a light smirk moving her lips. "Over and over, huh?" she wonders. "Well. I see. I seeeee indeed." Ka lifts a hand from those crossed arms, lgihtly taps her chin, slightly cocks her head..and all in all, clearly intentionally is delaying her reply, tho probably not out of a lack of decisions..but more in order to tease. "You know, admittedly the men who usually approach me out of that reason are not quite as vocal as you..then again, also not as refined as you. Perhaps just as straight forward, but their talking sounds more like grunting Or stammering. So.." She finally stops tapping that chin, and lihtly makes a finger-spreading gesture with her hand. "I actually don't see why not. Might as well enjoy myself before this place potentially goes down the drain when the rep and empire butt heads, hmh?"

The underlord might not have warrented a glance from Bod, but it's drawning Alac's pretty steadily. Which, along with his gaze, moves his hand. It started at the center of his gunbelt, but slides a little towards the heavy blastered holstered on his leg. Never actually closing around it, never slipping a finger in beneath the trigger, just the vaguest, most subtle, of threats. "You got somethin' on your mind, friend?" Asked of the Imperial with a lazy sort of expression around the smoke rolling from his nostrils.

With the credstick tapping in his chest, Alac reaches around with left hand and takes it in a palm. It's not discreet, but it's quick, and it disappears into his coat almost before his arm has arced over completely. "This a friend'uh yours?" Asking with a glance cut to the side at Bod, "Cus I ain't feelin' like he's very friendly.."

And that's when Wynn (haha! when-wynn) decides that it is time to let some of his knowledge speak the volumes. He knows things. Or rather, he pretends to know things. Or both. It's really hard to tell when it comes to an actor. "Let me put your fears at ease, Ka'una La. I happen to have it on very, very good authority that Corellia is headed for great things..." And that is all said before Wynn Ryder returns to his usual self. "... like the fact that I am going to be staying here on a more permanent basis. It is, after all, my homeworld. And to see it in such a lurching despair at this time is, how do you say, both crushing and disheartening to the very core and fiber of my being." Wynn's facial expression drops a bit, as does his gaze from the twi'lek hottie that he's definitely trying to overpower with a wave of emotions, all at once. Method Acting at its best.

Sympathy Card: Face Up, Attack Mode.

The Imperial stops in his tracks, looking around rather awkwardly. Apparently this isn't one of those overzealous ones. In fact, it's almost comical how uncertain he is, and he holds one hand out to the rather strange pair in a placating gesture, shaking his head quickly. "No, no," he says, his other hand reaching down none-too-subtly for the blaster at his hip, "No problem." Though there are other Imperials milling around, they don't seem inclined to help their comrade.

As Alac turns to their unwelcome observer, Smitherbodkins does, as well, though he doesn't seem concerned. He nods pleasantly to the cowed Imperial, "Good morning. Did you need something?" He leans a bit more heavily on his cane, fingers gripping the handle tightly.

Such emotion! Such tragedy! Such obvious acting! No, really. Ka'una figures it as acting, mostly because she does not know the man's acting in the first place. At least partially, she figures, it's exaggerated..if like many things it holds some truth. "Well, I -was- planning on doing a little shopping to stock up on some food in my ship.." She mururs, and lightly cocks her head. "Hmmh..tell you what, Mister Ryder..how about tomorrow, same time?" she suggests. "After all, if it's a date, I should properly prepare. Impromptu things, while fun and sometimes hilarious..are not quite something befitting a man like you, are they..?"

Alac follows the hand as it drops down towards that blaster on the Imperial's hip and the mirror reaction is the slow tap of his index finger against the big black grip of the DL-44 on his own, "Sure about that, sport? Cus it's gonna get dramatic on this tarmac if you creep your hand any closer tha' shooter." Left hand moves from inside his coat to finger clutch the cigarro so the smoke isn't rolling up in his eyes, caught against the bottom of his wide brimmed hat like some sort of cloud coverage. "Look't. You jus' slide tha' gun out real slow like an' push't on over here with your foot, yeah? Aint no reason for you to get hobbled over a couple friends havin' a conversation? Might be as I'm in a real good mood, might be as I'm forgivin' this mornin'... Might be, if you touch tha' gun, I'll make your wife a widow." Tilting his head a little, "Lot'of mights between us.. wanna see how many of them is fact?"

"I can assure you, I do very well in any situation that I'm put under." Oh, the innuendo that is dripping off that statement and the quick turn around from such vile tragedy to a much more interested style of speech is classic Wynn Ryder. He keeps a soft smile on his face, though and even takes to bowing just a slight bit. "It will be a great pleasure to have you tomorrow, same time. With or without the date." Poor Wynn is completely oblivious to anything else that may be about to go down, not far from where he has been hitting on Ka'una La for the longest time. "Either way, I can't wait to come aboard." He means the ship. Honest.

NO REALLY! HE DOES!

With that being said, Ka bows down as well, elegantly mixing the motion with the picking up of the leather bag between her feet, her lekku lightly waving. "Well then, mister Ryder.." she says. "I shall meet you tomorrow then, same time, same place...maybe in a different outfit." She smiles, straightening. "It will certainly be interesting." And with that she passes him, perhaps with a little bit more of a swing in her hips than before (one could say she didn't really give them much of one earlier), then a glance over her shoulder..her own little bit of acting, before her hand reaches into her vest again pulling out the datapad once more. This time not to read an entry..but to make one.

Exhaust jettisons from underneath the General Lesuvius as the ramp drops down slowly. A man looking exactly like Alac; Alban comes amblin' down the ramp looking a bit worse for wear. His hair sticks out in every direction and the light seems to bother him a great deal. In his hand he is holding a flute of some liquid--it fizzes. He looks up to see his brother and Wynn. Someone else too. "Hey...Would you look at that. Wynn is here, little Brother." He gives an upwards nod and looks to Smitherbodkins.

The spaceport is teeming with activity, as usual. There doesn't seem to me anything amiss at first glance. At second glance, though, there might be. Near the General Lesuvius stand two men, conversing with an Imperial who looks as though he wishes he hadn't gotten out of bed this morning. One is Alac, and one is Geophreigh Smitherbodkins. The former has a hand on an intimidating DL-44; perhaps it's illegally modified? The latter merely looks mildly amused.

The Imperial pauses, then begins to draw his blaster slowly out of the holster. "Okay, okay," he says, flipping the handle toward Alac and placing it on the ground, sliding it over, "There's no need for firefights."

Satisfied with the way he has handled his latest conquest, as well as taking the time to watch her walk away, Wynn Ryder is reaching up to adjust his leather suit and switches the tint on his lenses back to the classic soft gray that they normally are, just enough to hide his eyes a bit. He glances down at his chrono and smirks, before heading off in the direction of the Feature Presentation. Which, of course, will have to take him past the Y'alls and Smitherbodkins, with a side of Imperial Chump.

Alac never takes his hand off the DL-44 holstered on his right hip, but he does move his foot over to catch the sliding blaster with one booted toe. "See? An' they say Imperial's are stupid.." Nonchallant about his complete disdain for the Remnants of the once great Empire. Glancing to Bod with a perked brow, the cigarro goes back between his lips and curls over towards the corner of his mouth.. and finally back as the ramp lowers to permit his brother's exit. "Lil' Brother.. Wait.. Wynn? Where?" Glancing with a perked brow to the well dressed actor, which inevitably passes eyes on the Imperial. "Oh... Oh I forgot you were still here.. You may go." Flicking his left fingers in a shooing motion that matches the dismissal in his cold brown stare.

Alban looks completely confused now as he makes it to the bottom of the ramp. Geeze. How much did he have to drink last night anyhow? He looks to Alac. The Blaster. The Imperial Agent. Then to Wynn who seems to be departing. He takes a long swig from the flute, hoping the fizzy mix will make his head stop pounding and bring clarity to an unclear situation. He stands there at the bottom of the ramp, wondering if he'll need to go back up, grab a weapon, and provide some assitance. But not yet. He sips on the flute again.

The Imperial agent turns away, his boots clicking on the concrete as he makes a swift exit, sighing in relief when he gets far enough away so that is can't be heard. Most of the others in the spaceport go about their business, It's not exactly an uncommon sight on Corellia these days, and at least no one got shot.

Smitherbodkins turns to the man who exits the ship. "Ah, the elusive brother," he comments, his gaze flicking between Alac and Alban, the visible portion of his brow furrowing slightly. Luckily they did not seem to be identical. The other name then catches his attention, and he turns just in time to see Wynn striding toward the trio, "And Mr. Ryder! What a pleasant surprise! I trust everything is in order with your ship?"

Datapad out. Why? Because he's making a notation that he has to be back at this spaceport tomorrow to make sure that he gets some twi'lek lovin'. Which, of course, is half of the reason he even became an actor in the first place. it is not until he hears his voice being called, does he stop and look up, already shoving the datapad away and preparing to brace for the onslaught of fans that are no doubt headed in his direction!

Pause. Wait. That's Mr. Smith Creds and... wait, that can't be them? Can it?!

Wynn's eyes light up and he actually reaches up to pull his glasses off, before taking some serious strides to get over to the Trifecta. "Mr. Smith. A pleasure as always. The ship is beyond wonderful. If you give me one moment, I can return to making you want to spend all your credits on me right after I have a long overdue with these two losers." That is said to Bod in quick succession before Wynn turns his attention to Alban and Alac, opening his arms and flashing a classic grin. "Color me a Wookiee's uncle, you two are still alive?!"

Classic Wynn Ryder Greeting Activated.

Alac smirks a little once the Imperial is hauling himself off to parts safer and dips down to take the blaster out from beneath his toe. Turning it over a few times it disappears into his waist band beneath the dirty old jacket he's wearing and cutting an eye off in the direction of the boisterous Actor's greeting. It's the first time the gruffy old drifters smiled save a little turn of his mouth since landing back on their homeworld, "Oh hell, hider your lady friends, boss.." Said with a shake of his head and hand slapping against Wynn's shoulder, "Alive? I reckon you could say that, yeah. One step ahead of the law men, at any rate." Finger flickering Bod to Wynn, "Y'all know each other?"

With raised eyebrows, Alban nods to Smitherbodkins and gives him an outstretched 'toast' with the fizzy liquid. "Thanks for the digs, boss. Sorry I couldn't meet you when Little Brother here did. I was predisposed." By predisposed he means knee deep in a gambling house, drunk off his gord, and barely able to speak much less negotiate. He downs the rest of the drink, winces, and flicks the flute off to the side where it shatters unceremoniously. "Thanks for everything in fact." He smiles over at Wynn. "Big star forgot all about his aces from back in the day I imagine."

"Excellent!" Smitherbodkins nods amiably, reaching forward to clap Wynn on the shoulder before the young star turns to greet his...friends? The man's eyes widen. Someone had been amiss in their research. He files this little detail away for now, falling silent as the long-lost companions go about the business of greeting each other after so many years.

Alban's apology earns an absent wave of his hand, and he murmurs, "Think nothing of it, my boy," though the look he fixes on the less known twin reveals that he knows exactly why he wasn't at the meeting. Or at least has a well-educated guess.

"Please. I /wish/ I could forget about you guys. But noooooo. You had to save my life like what, twenty times, when we were kids? That kinda' makes it hard to forget you." Either way it goes, Wynn Ryder seems to be pretty happy to know that his best (only) friends from his younger days on Corellia are still alive and kicking. "Know each other? I guess you could say that. Mr. Smith here hooked me up with that beauty over there." And Wynn is all too proud to point off in the direction of the Feature Presentation in all of its YT-2400ness. "But I'm sure you guys know all about those." Which is followed by a smirking nod towards their own ship, which is much closer. Annnd pause, stepping back a moment to look at the three of them. "So wait. I'm a star, so that's why I know everyone. But how do you three know each other?" HMMMMM!

Alac thumbs back towards Bod, "He puts out a pretty amazin' spread an' you know how I like't eat." Which he delivers with the kind of point and shoot accuracy that hints at him being marginally serious about one or more points made in the simple explaination. "Hired us on as transport for some of his staff." Flicking a bit of ash off the end of his cigarro so that it burns a bit brighter with the new pucker of his cheeks. "Well, transport'n security.. I can't fly for nothin'.. How about you? Still makin' a livin' pretend you're us infront of a holocamara?" Snickering quietly with a hand reaching up to take the fuzzy tumbler Alban for a long pull of whatever it is he's drinking.. could be battery acid for all he knows.

Smitherbodkins begins to speak, but as Alac gets there first, he quiets once more, deferring to the other man's explanation. His brain works rapidly; everything said between the trio is noted, sorted, saved for future reference. When he's sure that his associate is finished, a smile settles on his face, and he replies, though it's not him who's been spoken to, "Mr. Ryder is the darling of Starlight Studios. He seems destined for great things." If the young man's bragging can be believed, of course.

"Ol' Smithers here is right." Only Wynn Ryder keeps coming up with piles of nicknames for people, whether they actually approve of these nicknames or not. He's all about making sure that there's a more personal relationship with those that he actually respects enough to talk to. Then again, he could just be interested because Bod is a walking bag of credits and then some. "Yeah. Let's put it this way, you all ain't see nothin' yet." He's just automatically assuming that these people have already seen him hard at work on Unnatural and in Forever and a Day. But then, he always assumes that the beings he's talking to are fans. "Y'know what, soon as I finish building my place, I'm throwing a huge shindig. So we can all catch up and talk about how we're going to make a bantha load of credits." Money is a big motivator, isn't it?

Credits definately do make the Galaxy go round, even the gruff Alac who smirks a bit more emphatically at the mention of making loads of them. The cigarro twists between his fingers, glancing from boss to actor with a twist of his head tilted just enough to look up at them from beneath the edge of his wide brim. Once Wynn's suggested the party the chewed end is turned to point in his direction, "Now, tha' aint half a bad idea, 'tal. Get some professionals in the house workin' tha crowd.." See, his mind is thinking too. Just not always in the same way as others. At least he's not said anything about killing someone since the Imperial left.

The new nickname, rather than annoying Smitherbodkins, causes him to chuckle, and he gives Wynn a look reminiscent of an indulgent uncle. Yes, he likes to think about the credits Wynn stands to make him, but it's also becoming clear that he genuinely likes the young man, despite (or perhaps because of) his exaggerated manner.

The mention of the party, though, causes him to raise an eyebrow, and he shoots Alac a look, commenting, "I believe that's quite a good idea, Mr. Ryder. I'm sure a lovely time will be had by all, especially if your friend makes an appearance."

"Which friend? I've got lots of those. The one with the biggest--?" Wynn just holds out his hands in front of his chest, as if that were to assist with questioning that he's doing of Smithers at this moment. He's clearly just messing around because it hasn't seen his friends in forever and now is the perfect time to show them that he hasn't changed much... except for maybe his ego. But even that was always there. "Definitely, a party is in the cards. Oh! You and Alban should come by the Studios so I can introduce you to the Bossman. I'm sure he can find something for you two to do. Something that could actually use your, what do I even call what you two do, talent?"

Alac wiggles the cigarro with a slow wave of his hand through the smoke it's produced and squints one eye at Wynn in mock scrutiny, "Yeah, the biggest.. blaster.." Patting the one on his hip with drumming fingers, though it's quite clear he's teasing his old friend. "Now come'on, I aint always the life of the party.." Drawing in another lung full of the steely gray to release through his nostrils, "Sometimes I'm knockin'em dead.." Rolling his eyes to one side to look on Bod, "Aint that right boss?"

Smitherbodkins just looks helpless, his gaze shifting between the two men as though he's afraid of the madness that's about to be unleashed on an unsuspecting galaxy. He can't do anything else but laugh, and it transforms his face, giving a glimpse of what he must have looked like before he took to hiding half his face, for whatever reason. "Indeed you do," he replies, one hand slipping into his pocket, "I see you are a man of many talents."

He turns to Wynn, then, and continues, "Ah, Mr. Ryder. When you have a moment, I'd like to talk to you about that commercial we spoke about. When will you be at liberty to discuss it?"

"You're the one paying me, so I spare the moment whenever you tell me to spare the moment." Wynn Ryder has no problem sucking up to the people that have the credits to make sure he keeps living the lifestyle that he's so accustomed to. In fact, he's more about keeping those people happy so they can keep his accounts full than he is anything else. He's clearly one of THOSE kind of actors. "I can catch up with my old buddies any time. It's not like they could ever die or anything." Another quick smile and glance is given to Alac. "Besides, if I know them, they'll be around to mooch off me before the week is out. So I might as well start making some extra creds as soon as possible."

"Y'all do y'all's bitnis.." Alac says with a flick if his finger back and forth, "Imma go find a cheap piece of tail and an expensive bottle of whiskey." The corellian says with a calloused thumb dragging noisey over a stubbled jaw just over the small scar at the curve of his cheek. "Maybe kill somebody an' act darin' an' adventurous.. Wha's today?" Glancing at the chrono on his wrist with a nod, "Yeah, definate tail, booze, an' a gunfight day."

Just then, a loud, obnoxious beeping noise comes from the general vicinity of Smitherbodkins. He winces, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a comlink. His brow furrows as he reads off the frequency, mumbling a curse under his breath. "I must take this," he says, giving an apologetic shrug, "it seems that our business is to be deferred for another day. You two catch up. We shall be in touch. Good day, Mr. Ryder. Mr. Y'All." With that, he turns away, clicking on the comlink and holding it to his ear. "Go," he says, making his slow way back across the spaceport. A pause, then, "I do not care to hear excuses. You promised me that it would be done. Get it done." His voice fades out as he disappears from view in the crowd.

"I love that man. He looks creepy as a Sith Lord in a skintight dress, but still. I love that man. And his credits." Wynn turns his attention away from the retreating Smitherbodkins and is once again focused on his old pal. "This is crazy. I still can't believe we're back together again. Do you know the kind of hell we're going to raise?" Wynn has always missed his old friends and now that they are putting the band back together, the chances of Corellia ever being the same again are so slim, they might as well be a crushed protocol droid.

Alac turns to look after Bod as well and drops what remains of his smoke down infront of him to crush beneath the toe of his boot. Free of hands he grabs his hat and pulls it off to brush his forearm across his brow, "He's an alright fella, tha's for sure. Set us up right nice with this here ship.." Nodding to the YT-2400 sitting just a few steps to their right, "An'.. well, yeah. Basically this planet's pretty much a playground.. Cept all that damn Imperials..." At least one of the brothers has a notorious hatred for the Empire. Glaring off towards the white armored guards that make their way around the spaceport almost constantly.

"Please. Like we can't handle them. Y'know, this was our planet before it was theirs. Just sayin', it might be kinda' fun to take it back." Wynn Ryder is not opposed to putting together a rebellious group of freedom fighters or something, in order to preserve the planet that allowed him to become the man he is today. "I mean, what's the point in coming back home if we can't come home to the same planet we left, right?"

Alac's brow perks at the mention of taking back the planet, nodding in that slow sort of way that someones gone and done something dangerous: got him thinking. A hand comes up to rub at his stubbled jaw, glancing about the tarmac appraisingly, but ultimately falling flat on his old friend. "Tha' might not be a half bad idea, bud.. I mean, lots of credits to be made in bein' a hero of the people, aint there?"

"And the women. Oh, the women. Being a hero kinda' automatically ensures we'll be swimming in them." Wynn is also doing that slow nod thing, because he's all about making sure that he's planning this out. "Y'know, I'm willin' to bet Mr. Smith wouldn't mind funding this little operation of ours. And I'm pretty sure, between the four of us, if we put our connections together, we could arm an army." Wynn does not even realize he's possibly creating some kind of dangerous rebellion just by talking about this out here.

Alac has a terrible habit of taking things entirely too literal when his very unfocused brain gets set on a single task. "Maybe not." About Bod, glancing from side to side once his hat is set back on his smooth back hair and pulled low on his brow. "Might be as we could attack them from a bunch of angles, even.. If you could start gettin' them fellers down at the studio to do 'patriotic' pictures?"

"I could talk to Dain. See what we can come up with. He's a native too." Which is definitely part of making sure that this thing goes through the way it should. Wynn is already starting to make some notes in his head, not really wanting to digitally store anything in his datapad about this. No evidence. "I say we all get together and have one big pow-wow about this. Make sure we do this right. Something this big, we can't screw up." His voice gets lower and lower each time, making sure the Imperials nearby aren't exactly hearing too much.

Alac, like his friend, is speaking in a hushed tone that comes pretty easy to the seasoned Corellian criminal. Rubbing his jaw all the while they discuss the possibilities, "Yeah, bring them together's got a hand in benefitin' from this.. Don't think we ort get the Republic involved though.. They'd prolly foot bills, but then we're not in an advantagious position come negociation time.."

"Nerf the Republic on this one. This is our planet. We grew up here, we decide when and how we're going to take it back. I'll be a dead Wookiee before I stand by and let some Imperial scum ruin the greatest planet in the galaxy. And I know you and Alban feel the same. This is our party and we'll kick some Imperial ass if we want to." Wynn Ryder might as well be some charismatic rebellion leader at this point, the way he's trying to rile up his old comrades.

Alac's never been the front man of anything in his life. Even when they were kids, he's the one who went and kicked the bully's ass when they messed with Alban or Wynn, so it's just as true now when they're adults. He's violent and volitile, so he'll leave the charisma to those who have it and handle the part where people get blown up and shot at with ruthless abandonment. "I like tha' way you think, bud.. Soon's Alban gets back we can figure out the first steps."

"Excellent." Wynn peers at his chrono and frowns. "So here's what we'll do. Here's my card." He hands over one of his awesome cards with a WR logo on it, when pressed, the card reveals a holoimage of Wynn Ryder and all of his contact information. "You com me when you guys are ready to rock. I'll talk to Smith and Dain, in the meantime, see if I can get them on board. After that, we'll all sit down and get this party started." He's back to looking at his datapad in the next moment, because now it is beeping. "I've got to get ready to head to set. They need me there early for make up." He scoffs. "As if this face needs make up."

Alac turns the card over in his fingers and looks at the holo image of his friend with a smirk, "You're such a smoose you know tha'?" Either way, he slaps his old pal on the arm, careful about it so as not to harm the goods. "We'll be intouch soon.. I'mma talk to some old dirty bastards I knew back in the day, see if I can't get us a lil' army to arm in tha' first place.. Gonna get ugly.." That part, definately, pleases the gruffy Brother. "An' bloody." That part even more. With two fingers touching the brim of his hat, he takes a step back towards the ramp of the General and slides the card down inside the front pocket of his cracked leather jacket. "Seeya soon, Wynn.. Good knowin' you aint let fame change ya 'too' much."

"Corellia Forever." is all that Wynn has to say, before he's spinning on his heels and starts making with his dramatic exit. He has to bring his flipcom back up to his ear now, since it has been beeping annoyingly for the longest moment. "I'm on my way! I was handling some business. What? No, I'm not seeing anyone else. You know you're the only one for me, baby..." Oh Wynn.