RPlog:Party at the Manor

Foyer -- Kartathia Manor -- Coronet City: Corellia

Visitors to the manor are greeted in the expansive foyer by the pleasant bubble of water. It comes from a fountain in the middle of the room, beautiful yet understated, made of the finest white Kubindi granite. It features a Kubaz, standing gracefully in the center, rainbow-hued water flowing from its raised snout and into the pool below. An inscription set in a golden plaque on the base reads 'T'laro alerItha kcerka moju djece.' It perfectly compliments the marble floor, as well as the high ceiling, windows on each side bathing it in an almost ethereal light. There are three other doors, one on each wall, and a long, sweeping staircase curves its way to the floor above. At the moment, there are two quite burly security guards stationed at the door, checking each entering guest for blasters. When one is found, they take it away and put it in a small safe, enclosed in the wall. There will be no violence permitted in Smitherbodkins' home. It might cause something to break.

OOC: NO WEAPONS ARE PERMITTED. If you have one concealed on your person, assume it will be taken away. If you have a problem with this, page Smitherbodkins and speak with him about it. If you have not spoken with him and had your weapon cleared, all poses involving it will be retconned. Thank you.

-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=- => J'Eeves

The soft sounds of a string quartet drift in from the double doors of the ballroom, which are flung dramatically open, inviting the guests to enter once they have made it through security. A pair of guards dressed in tuxedos stand waiting at the door to search the arrivals before allowing them entrance to the home. Servants bustle to and fro, making last minute preparations, some carrying large trays of food, others tending to minor disasters. Everything that was not planned on, you see, is a minor disaster to J'Eeves, who stands at the center of the foyer directing traffic.

Ai'kani had arrived to the manor early so she could properly prepare. When the music begins and she hears the servants being called to their places, she decides it is time to leave her room and move towards the main event. Carefully decending the large staircase, Ai'kani keeps a gloved hand on the railing so that she does not fall. Damned high heels... she was not raised for this sort of stuff. Safely making it to the bottom, she remains close the railing for now, watching as guests start to enter. Hopefully, her date would be able to make it.

Ta'Keshi walks through the wide doors of the manor into the grand foyer. Ta'Keshi has arrived.

Zhamari walks through the wide doors of the manor into the grand foyer. Zhamari has arrived.

Jarek walks through the wide doors of the manor into the grand foyer. Jarek has arrived.

Jarek had made the final journey to the manor from the starport, arriving just as the huge doors leading into the ballroom swung open. The sound of music plays in the background as Jarek runs a hand over his jacket nervously, wrinkles flattened and for a brief second the items that had been concealed within the suit jacket show. Coughing lightly, Jarek eyes a group of people that make their way through security, his lips curling upwards as the plan slowly, yet surely, kicks off without hitch. Making his way to the far line of people, he looks first to the guard before stepping and waiting himself.

Weird or not, Lianja had made an attempt at what might be called dressing up. The being rubbed its gloved hands back and forth as it waited outside the doors with the crowd, glancing around now and then to see if Jarek was around. When the man finally arrived, Tantai fell in line behind him, following him inside at least before splitting off and mingling with the nice people.

Having recently arrived, Silvin has yet to make the acquaintance of any other guests. In fact his invitation had come as a surprise, albeit a welcome one, and he still had yet to locate his date. The notion buzzed within the man's head, conflicting with recent realities. A date. Formal, at that. A smile forms upon thin lips as a hazel gaze falls upon one familiar face. Ai'kani's elegance is hard to miss, and he quietly steps in her direction. Finally, still out of vision, he takes a moment to arrange his simple collection of Coruscanti-inspired formalwear before addressing her, "I was afraid I'd be late." Smiling as he continues, Silvin adds, "You look..." He pauses, a plethora of adjectives tumbling within his mind. He finally concludes with a simple, "Amazing."

Goodness! The guests have begun to arrive! At the announcement of the first one's entrance, all the help scurries about to their places, leaving the foyer immaculate, as usual. J'Eeves composes himself, taking a deep breath, then letting it out. He must not let his master down! Clearing his throat, he walks to the door, saying in a loud, announcer sort of voice, "Welcome to the home of Lord Geophreigh Smitherbodkins the IV!" He makes a grand, sweeping gesture in the direction of the ballroom, "He is so pleased that you all could come. Refreshments and dancing are in the ballroom, but feel free to enter the library, should you wish to do so!" He bows deeply, trunk nearly touching the floor.

Jarek walks through the wide doorway from the foyer into the ballroom. Jarek has left.

Ta'Keshi walks through the wide doorway from the foyer into the ballroom. Ta'Keshi has left.

Zhamari walks through the wide doorway from the foyer into the ballroom. Zhamari has left.

Looking towards Silvin's approach, Ai'kani grins widely. "Ah! You were able to show up!" Meeting the man halfway, she hugs him. "I'm glad. It's nice to get away from the Basilica once in a while." Taking a step back, she observes the man, as well. "You cleaned up quite well yourself," she teases. "Who knew how good a spacer could look in formal attire?" Turning to address the announcement, she extends a hand to Silvin. "Shall we?"

Accepting the hand, Silvin replies with a grin, "I just had to brush some dust off, even I was surprised. You on the other hand, I had no doubts about, and rightfully so." Turning towards the recently opened grand ballroom entrance he adds, "Sure, let's get this show on the road." He offers Ai'kani a light squeeze of the hand, and steps off in its direction.

Ballroom -- Kartathia Manor -- Coronet City: Corellia

This room is so large that one might not even be able to recognize one's best friend, should they be standing on the opposite end. The room is lit by a crystal chandelier, which seems to be suspended of its own accord, floating lazily around near the high ceiling in large circles. Around the edges of the room are several small circular tables, enough to seat quite a few people, but leaving plenty of room for dancing and mingling in the middle. On the walls are hung several exquisite and brilliantly colored tapestries, spaced apart just enough so as not to cross the line from tasteful to garish. At the front of the room around the dais stand several marble cases, one at each front corner and one along each side. On top of each, a book is displayed, resting inside a glass case, interior lights streaming toward the delicate covers. In the center of the dance floor, as an homage to the great monks that provided the galaxy with the featured work of literature, a giant ice sculpture can be seen, depicting the spider-like droid bodies of the enlightened B'omarr. At the far end of the room is positioned a dais, made of white marble and bathed in light which radiates from an unknown source, one other than the floating chandelier. It is the perfect size for a small band, and also would seem to be useful for making speeches and the like. At present, a string quartet has been placed there, their music ringing out in the grand room just enough to be heard, but not enough to disturb conversation.

-=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Smitherbodkins

J'Eeves walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. J'Eeves has arrived.

Vyal walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Vyal has arrived.

Jarek walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Jarek has arrived.

Ta'Keshi walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Ta'Keshi has arrived.

Zhamari walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Zhamari has arrived.

The ambiance in the room is elegant yet understated, everything coming together to form near perfect aesthetics. The quartet plays a soft Corellian waltz which provides the perfect backdrop to the room; no one is dancing yet, but it is still early. Uniformed waiters walk sedately around the room with trays in their hands, stopping at each guest in case they would like some hors d'oeuvres. The early arrivals mingle with each other, talking and laughing. The quartet finishes the first song, striking up another, livlier tune after it. A few of the men smile, leading their partners to the floor and beginning to dance. The beautifully attired woman look like little butterflies as they whirl and dip, brilliant colors floating randomly like so many swirls of paint.

Ai'kani walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Ai'kani has arrived.

Silvin walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Silvin has arrived.

Although she's been a lot of places and seen a wide variety of amazing things, Ta'Keshi still appears to be openly impressed with the surroundings in which she now finds herself. Clearing the doorway, the Shistavanen turns and beckons to someone behind her to follow her through the portal and into the elegance of the ballroom. Although her choice of formal wear is black, Tak's lovely red-gold fur is set off nicely by the dark color. Sequins wink brightly here and there on her top when the shifting light of the chandelier touch them. "Snazzy joint," she mutters under her breath to her feline companion.

"I'll say," answers the furred, spotted feline sentient that arrived with Ta'Keshi. Her amber eyes are raised to the ceiling, and her attention is drawn to her surroundings raptly enough that for a moment, at least, she stops tugging at the collar of her shirt. "What are we doing here again?" she queries quietly. Nothing among all her experiences on Mutanda have ever brought her into a setting even nearly so opulent as this one. She's hardly sure what to think about all of it, whether favorable or not.

One hand in Silvin's and the other grasping her dress to keep it from dragging the floor too much, Ai'kani takes in the sheer size of the room. "Sweet Force," she whispers almost inaudibly. Surely, this man lives in luxury. "This ballroom is larger than our own library." The size is too much for her eyes to take in at once; forcing her gaze to go slowly from left to right. "Just amazing." She stops on a large statue in the middle and begins to tug Silvin gently along. "What is this...?"

Johanna walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Johanna has arrived.

Alistair walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Alistair has arrived.

Having made it through security, Jarek strides through the large doors. Tipping the edge of his hat upwards, his eyes first land on the massive chandelier suspended high overhead. He was reminding of affairs back on Thyferra, when he had accompanied his uncle to company parties and the like. "Keep moving." A lady snaps impatiently to Jarek as his long strides drop to a slow walk. Jarek glares, though keeps his head facing forward, picking up his stride once more and moving out into the graciously sized room. There were many people mingling, dancing, things that Jarek would likely not have the pleasure of doing this evening. He had come alone, after all. Shaking the notion that this might be enjoyable in the least, Jarek goes back to his plans of grandeur, eyes searching the room to make sure that everyone is accounted for and prepared.

At that moment, the doors to the ballroom are filled with the stately, elegant form of Smitherbodkins. He failry gleams, his formalwear immaculate and perfectly appropriate, as all his outfits are. He sweeps off his hat, handing it to one of the butlers absently as he enters the room. "Honored guests!" he booms, spreading his hands wide as though to encompass the entire room, "How good to see all of you here!" One of the waiters comes up to him, bowing defferentially and offering him a plate of Pikpik eggs. A smile lights his face as he takes one, biting into it daintily. His eyes slide closed as he is transported to the pinnacle of gustatory ecstasy. J'Eeves had come through, once again, as he always did. With that, he begins making the rounds, smiling and greeting the people inside with genuine warmth.

Lyra walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Lyra has arrived.

If the size of this grand ballroom was something to marvel at, its sheer oppulence is almost overwhelming. Silvin too can but stare, slackjawed - if only for a moment before remembering his manners - at the vast wealth inherent to this display. "A Hutt would be intimidated by this room," he whispers to himself. A little more vocally, he inquires of Ai'kani with a humored tone, "How did we end up here again?"

Looking away from the statue as her attention is pulled, Ai'kani takes in the sight of Smitherbodkins with a slight amusement. "That man really knows how to call attention to himself." Shaking her head gently, she decides that moving around would only cause more congestion in the quickly-filling room. Thus, she remains at the base of the statue, leaning against it with a stifled yawn into her fist. She really should've gotten more sleep. "Invitation, as simple as that sounds. Mr. Smitherbodkins showed up at the Basilica one day looking for Master Luke. The rest is history. He seems to be inviting everyone he comes across. Even a Shistavanen he mistook for Radke. I'm not even sure what this gala is for. Perhaps just to show off this grand ballroom."

Alistair strides into the room wearing his gleaming whites. The clothes are bleached to a point that the short man seems to glow. A white jacket with intracaite tan designs roll up his arms from his cuffs, and a long collar flips up around his neck. Tattooed lekku are twisted elegantly into a masterful design and hang gently over his shoulders. Alistair's cuffs are unbuttoned making his hands seem larger than they really are. Beneath the unbuttoned jacket is a white dress shirt that betrays no story nor horror of any misuse or stains. The twi'leks pants, surprisingly, are not the regular baggy pair that he seems to favor so much. They seem fitted and well pressed, the edges coming together in a crisp edge. Black leather boots are shined to a sheen, virtually acting as mirrors. There are no signs of any holsters or weapons, or even any telltales of any hidden weaponry at all. The short blue twi'lek looks as he has never looked before. Not a speck of dirt nor oil can be examined on any of his features, and a brightness never before seen shines forth from his eyes. Not once on Nar Shaddaa, Tatooine, nor Coruscant had Alistair ever been so clean. Alistair felt like a million credits. That is, if he had any credits at all. A smile widens on the twi'leks lips as everybody comes into view. After the disastrous incident with the pigheaded trandoshan the night before, he was glad to be surrounded by people who would neither shoot him, punch him, try to kill him, or shoot him out of an airlock. A butler sneaks up on Alistair from nowhere and offers to take his jacket, but the twi'lek promptly declines. Alistair's smile widens as he spots Ai'kani and begins making his way over.

In an universe of those unused to formal occasions, stumbling in early or very early and fidgeting about clothing, some of the least likely people to know exactly what to do crop up now again. For her part, Lyra shows up late, illustrating the addage about it being fashionable, being led in by one of Smitherbodkin's helpful waitstaff. She strides into the room, looking as if she had little concern about her dress that could be called elegant or her 'newfound' comportment. For once, that pleasant expression she usually has looks right at home. She comes in bearing a gift as well, holding it in slim hands, a smallish thing, concealed by patterned ivory-colored handmade paper and affixed with a gauzy white bow of satin lace. Even as she enters the room looking for the host, she doesn't pause to gawk, smoothly taking in the room until she locates her quarry.

With the crowd gathered in the ballroom, the addition of one more body hardly garners a glance. As the orange Twi'lek slides into the party, her eyes instantly take note of the exits and any other avenues of excape. Elya had arrived on the planet as directied by her employer. She was to be the escort of the head of NovaCom, Ayam. But her boss, apparently decided to be fasionably late and failed to info Elya of that. So, alone and uncomfortable, she moves as if to study a painting.

Ta'Keshi doesn't immediately answer her companion's question because at that moment the host chooses to make his grand and stately entrance. Too many interesting things to pay attention to all at once. The Shistavanen huffs ever so softly and then blinks in surprise only half a second before issuing an enormous sneeze as the perfume adorning one of the ladies fair hits her ultra-sensitive nose. "Gah!" the red-gold female exclaims under her breath as she quickly wipes the back of one hand across her muzzle, just in case there was any sort of mess resulting from that minor nasal explosion. Then satisfied that she isn't a complete mess, the Shist sniffs once before smiling and waving in the direction of Lord Smitherbodkins. Afterall, one is supposed to be friendly to the host of a big party like this, right? A polite cough at her elbow gives Ta'Keshi a mild start, but she controls her reflexes admirably. By the time the red-gold sentient turns to face the waiter at her side, a pleasant smile is once again fixed upon her canine features. "Hors d'oeuvres, Madam?" the suited man says with a deferiential half bow during which he somehow manages to gracefully profer a laden platter. "Great!" the Shist responds with a thrilled grin as she grabs a small handful. "Thank you!" comes an instant later as she remembers her manners. The poor server manages not to give this uncouth guest any strange looks as he turns away in search of another party-goer. Turning back toward her Horansi tag-along, Tak offers Zhamari one of the dainty treats before saying, "We're here because that nice man up there invited me, and I invited you."

The pleasent chatter and the lively music of the ballroom comes as a relief to Vyal as he arrives from the kitchen. Allowing himself a moment to take in the all that is going all and catch a note of the music, he looks about the place seeing if he recognizes anyone. His pale eyes settle first on J'Eeves which reminds that he is here for buisness. Quickly, though not without dignity, Vyal approches the hosts manservant. "Please inform your lord that dinner is prepared and is ready to be served whenever he wishes." he says in a quitely to the host's servant.

The chandelier. Oh, sweet Maker. Look at that chandelier. Johanna has always had a love of sparkly things, the prismatic skylight on Coruscant a good case in point, but this light source drives her positively to distraction. She gawks at it obsessively, quite unconcerned with what others might think of this and how much it's making her neck ache. The thing is FLOATING, for Maker's sake! FLOATING! "Say, did you..." But the nice-looking fellow in the dapper dove-colored suit has no time for her provincial awkwardness, he brushes past her without so much as a second glance. Well! It's not that she's ill at ease in this sort of environment... the formal gatherings courtesy the Republic Navy had seen to it that she had at least some social skills beaten into her... it's that she invariably ends up spilling food all over her nice clothes, or ramming into someone, all by accident. She would be perfectly happy at parties and galas were it not for this strange bit of unluckiness that seems to accompany her like a bad blind date. Speaking of dates... ooh, there comes another nice man. "Hello, I'm..." Ignored again! Sigh. Perhaps she smells a bit? Yes? Impossible, she's clean and nicely attired. Maybe they all came with hot women, is all!

The wave from Ta'Keshi earns an equally merry one from the elegant gentleman, smiling as he nods to her in greeting. As he is about to head over there, the message from Vyal comes, borne on the wings of one of the waiters. He leans down to hear it, then nods, saying quietly, "Tell him to lay out the food on the tables." He gestures to the vast expanse of white-covered buffet. The man nods, scurrying off to Vyal to do as instructed. He snatches a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and sips it, eyes roaming around the room. Just then, a vision of loveliness catches his eye in the form of the blue-velveted Johanna. His eyebrows raise, and he starts toward the woman, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "My dear lady," he says, bowing and offering her his hand, eyes locked on hers. "Are you, perhaps, Johanna te Danaan? Your reputation preceeds you, but you are even more lovely than I would have ever expected."

At the opposite end of the social scale from those who somehow -are- used to these events, is Zhamari. She might have briefly forgotten in light of the grandeur now surrounding, but her left hand now remembers her discomfort, sneaking its way back up to her neck to tug at the collar of her top. From there, the same hand migrates to her right sleeve, tugging at that next. But before that's done, her right hand is already performing a similar adjustment to her left sleeve. Their host then making himself known, Zhamari tilts her head and peers in is direction. Listening to his announcement with one ear, her other ear turns toward those surrounding her. She's ... monitoring them. Not out of a desire to spy, but simply because she has no idea what she's supposed to be doing. How is everyone else behaving? She can try to do the same, maybe. Zhamari's thoughts are interrupted by Ta'Keshi's nasal outburst, her ears flattening as her tail gives a nervous shiver. Blinking, she turns pupils widened to the point of blackness upon her chaperone. "Health," she murmurs in her native language.

"Well it would appear that grand ballrooms such as this exist to be shown off." Silvin smiles. And the people within, as well, from the way in which so many debutantes preen and feather. That was one aspect of high social functions that managed to survive every war, be they martial or political in nature. Finally, he takes notice of the statue upon which his date leans, and recognizes it for the first time. Blinking, he stutters, "That's a replica of..." He does not finish, his fingers testing the aged stone material of its manufacture. "Is it a replica? Good fortune favor the credit..."

J'Eeves stands off to the side of the festivities, supervising the servants as they carry their trays of hors d'oeuvres and champagne to and fro. The servant pays little attention to the guests unless one approaches him asking for instructions to the facilities or needing something. As Vyal tells him about the final dinner preparations, the valet nods. "Yes, yes, bring the food out. Place it on the tables over there," he says, gesturing. He does not bother to inform Smitherbodkins. Such trivial concerns were not to bother the master on such an important night. "Very good, very good, tut tut," the Kubaz says.

Ai'kani watches the crowd of bustling guests from all walks of life. What did this guy do? Go from planet to planet throwing out invitations like confetti? "It's very impressive how many people he has showing up to this. No way they are all aristocrats. I mean... we and I certainly are not nor did that Shistavanen seem to be." Speaking of which... wonder if they're here, too. "It's curious his purpose behind all of this, isn't it?" Ai'kani's idle contemplation is interrupted by Silvin's question. Quickly moving away from what might be an expensive statue, Ai'kani looks up. "I am not sure," she replies. "I am not so well-learned in art history." Looking for the flashy host once more, he's not hard to pick out. Even in such a massive gathering. "Hey. Isn't that Johanna with Smitherbodkins? Joh!" Raising a hand, Ai'kani starts towards them but stops; not wishing to be rude.

Jarek turns, eyes of silver-blue falling on Smithbodkins as he enters the room. It isn't so much that Jarek cares about this man in particular, though obligation grabs his gaze for the time being, a polite nod following it as the man disappears into the crowds. "Well then," Jarek turns, slightly uncomfortable as the once open room slowly but surely fills with people. "What to do now." he talks under his breath, paying little attention to the direction that he walks, as long as it is away from the more congested areas. "Pardon...excuse.." Jarek tries to be polite as he works his way through the throngs of socialites. He was very much out of place. He continues walking - quite quickly for the first couple of minutes - only stopping as his feet tangle beneath him. Stumbling he nearly falls over, hopping a couple times trying to maintain balance. It would have worked too, had that woman not been standing in the way. Body bumping into Johanna, Jarek is finally capable stopping and regaining his composure. "I am dreadfully sorr-" He stops as he looks up from his jacket. Yes he knew this woman. "It seems that I can't stop running into you." This time he would have more self control though. He would not throw pebble at her, though that simply could be due to the fact that there wasn't one available.

Pretending to admire one of the brilliantly colored tapestries grows more and more difficult for Elya as she has no idea as to the concept or the content. Turning back to people watch, a much more common practice for the Twi'lek, she is startled by a server standing directly infront of her. Giving a small 'eek" her right hand flashes up to her chest, feeling her heart pounding. With her left she waves the man away, with a polite, if a bit breathless "No thank-you" Quickly giving the room a scan to see if she was overheard, a bit of red adds even more color to her cheeks, hot with embarrassment. "If Ayam doesn't show up soon, I'm out of here" she mutters to her self, her lekku twitching with nervous engery. Catching a glance at another Twi'lek, and then a human male stumbling across the floor. At least the attention will be lifted from her small social snafu, and she feels a bit better.

Draga walks through the doors leading from the foyer into the ballroom. Draga has arrived.

Taking a step away from the statue as well, equal parts in the interests of not being responsible for damage to anything worth more than his life and a desire to stick close to the only person he recognizes thus far. As Ai'kani stops, he gazes in the direction in which she'd indicated and notices Johanna as well. "I do believe that's her, let's go say hello." Throwing rudeness to the wind, he takes her hand and steps off across the ballroom floor.

Meeting the eyes of the young Treka, Ta'Keshi blinks as she realizes just how nervous the youngster really is. Carefully, the Shistavanen rests a hand lightly on Zhamari's shoulder and speaks quietly. "Easy now... relax a little. Have one of these little 'or-durve' thingies," she encourages as she holds one out to the Horansi again. As one of the waiters passes by, Tak snags two flutes of champagne neatly with one hand. "Have one of these, too," she advises before taking a sip from one of them. Glancing up into the throng of party-attendees that are nearby, Ta'Keshi begins to notice that she has seen more than one of these faces before. Granted, not for very long, but the Shist has a very good memory for these sort of things. "Hmm..." she says softly as though pondering some deep mystery of the universe. "Jedi are here as well. This crowd seems to be made of an interesting composition." Well... you just never know what's going to come out of Ta'Keshi's mouth, do you?

Skidding to a halt, Alistair rubs his chin. Certainly he wanted to throw Ai'kani and Silvin a howdy-do, but he could talk to them at any time. He was surrounded by perfectly good strangers and he could say whatever he wanted. 'Hi there, I'm Alistair. I saved Smitherbodkin's in the war once.' or, 'hey there - want to see my space ship?' With a charming grin combined with a cocky attitude, Alistair heads for the brightest color he can find in the room: orange. Carefully maneuvering through the crowd, the blue twi'lek masterfully closes the distance between himself and Elya. Quietly he wonders to himself how he'll approach this one. Within moments he is within speaking distance of Elya. "Hi, I'm Alistair and.." I'm a dork. Perhaps it was nervousness. Or maybe it was the fact he was not used to environment. Or mayhap it was simply because Alistair sucks. Who knows? Either way, it is a simple fact that as soon as the twi'lek was about to formulate his grand introduction he tripped. Not a simple trip, but one of those trips you can almost see from a mile away. A trip that looks like it hurts. alot.

Fine crystal, marble, wall hangings, and everyone. She doesn't notice a one of them. Instead eyes roam around the room seeking something else. Aha. There he is. As Lyra spies the actual Host of the affair, she pauses. So here she was, a single woman, unchaperoned. 'Stag' as it were. So dreadful are these later, fallen days. Still, redheaded woman puts a brave face on things and forges on ahead, salvaging what she can of proper manners. She happens upon Smitherbodkins himself, already amusing himself with one of the female guests. Johanna even. So the Jedi had made it. She weaves her way through the crowd, finally reaching the pair, politely pausing within Smitherbodkin's sight for a moment without a word, she waits for a suitable moment so she can ... watch some rather clumsy fellow run into Johanna. Still he looks vaguely familiar somehow. "Are you all right?" she enquires to Jarek as the man straightens, her voice that of the infamous 'other' Lyra, educated properly and with that accent that many in the room would call 'snooty' but she might call 'proper' in this mindset. Glancing over at Smitherbodkins, "I thought I should come by to visit and to thank you for the invitation, Lord Smitherbodkins," she says, offering him the wrapped package, a small visiting-gift. "It is a small thing, I am afraid. But I do hope it is suitable."

Hearing her name spoken by a complete stranger is indeed a little startling, and that line about her reputation makes the pilot eye the immaculately attired Smitherbodkins with something akin to suspicion or perhaps dismay. Still, she remembers her manners and one foot moves forward to offer the as-yet unidentified host a respectable courtesy ere she takes his proffered hand with just enough conviction so as not to arouse suspicion... but only just. "I'm Johanna," the pilot nods, "I don't believe we've been introduced, Mister...?" And it would all have been okay, really it would have, had Jarek not decided to launch himself at her in a most ungracious manner. "Excuse m..." The indignant insitence in her tone dies off very quickly, replaced by a wary curiosity that fades into coolness all within the span of two seconds. "So it would seem," she replies, "Fancy seeing you here." Who the hell is he, anyway? Maybe some bored socialite who had just been slumming it on 'scant? One never knows with these types. Dark gaze moves back to Smitherbodkins. "Quite a gathering." And there come more familiar faces!

Ai'kani finds herself pulled by Silvin, this time, towards Smitherbodkins and Johanna. "Maybe we shouldn't intrude..." Ai'kani protests, giving the man's captive hand a tug in attempt to get away. However, for all her struggles, the woman soon finds herself approaching and in an awkward demand for her to say something. "Ah. Greeting! Excellent turn out." She bows to Smitherbodkins. "All your planning was not in vain." Shifting her golden-green eyes to Johanna, she smiles brightly. "You look very lovely today, Johanna. I must admit... I'm surprised." Compared to the JOhanna she is used to. When another presence all but staggers into the small grouping, Ai'kani's eyes narrow slightly. It is that man from earlier... the one with the familiar presence. Johanna knows him? "Ah... I don't believe we have met," comes another greeting as Ai'kani bows to Jarek.

The soft 'eek' of Elya is enough to catch the attention of the highly-strung J'Eeves. He swings around in time to catch the waiter hustling off, and the Kubaz raises his trunk and waves the man over. "We do not scare the guests!" he admonishes him. "We do not sneak up behind them like we are ghosts in the dark! We are here to serve, not scare! Be more careful!" Then he waves the waiter away dismissively. A servant comes up and whispers something into J'Eeves' ear and the Kubaz nods before disappearing into the foyer. Moments later, a fanfare plays over the speakers. The string quartet stops playing, and J'Eeves makes a grand entrance back into the room. "The guest of honor has arrived!" he announces loudly. "May I present, the Mighty Draga the Hutt, lord of Tatooine, ruler of the Desilijic clan, destroyer of the unjust, and businesshutt extraordinaire!" Another fanfare is played and J'Eeves bows grandly, sweeping his arm out to one side to direct the guests' attention towards the double doors at the entrance of the ballroom.

The massive Draga bursts through the double doors with purpose moving his tremendous bulk with gyrations of muscles that ripple through his own body, jerking forward unabashedly. Two armored guards who look out of place walk close behind him, keeping a close eye on those in the ballroom as their master pushes inward, waiting for any sign of trouble. The Hutt bellows a huttese greeting roaring through the ballroom overheard over the level of noise present. Behind him, a timid bothan female in seductive and elaborate clothing walks softly her head hung low, no joy in her face. Draga pays no attention to any glances that may come his way, as he turns back to his guards. "Where is it?" he bellows. "I didn't haul it halfway across the galaxy just to have it wander off now. Send it in!" He then turns his attention to Smitherbodkins. "Ah, Smitherbodkins. Your home is most impressive. Thank you for your invitation." Without waiting for much in the way of response he begins scanning the room for the food tables. (speaking in Huttese)

A lot of people seem to be going over to the host. Is that what's done at these things? A lot of people also seem to be losing their balance and falling or running into others. Giving the entire scene an odd look, Zhamari turns to Ta'Keshi and tentatively reaches for the snack and the glass. "Or... durve?" she queries, sounding the word out carefully in Basic. She lifts the little trifle to her nose and sniffs it scrutinizingly, then does the same thing to the contents of the fluted glass. While J'Eeves is introducing the Hutt, Zhamari does by accident one of the most ungracious things possible - she lowers both the glass and her muzzle and licks at the surface. And ... then makes perhaps her most unusual facial expression yet. Looking around for someplace to put the champagne flute back down, Zhamari puts the hors d'oeuvre in her mouth and chews it up in hopes it will wash away the bizarre, dry taste of the beverage.

Jarek dusts himself off - not that his suit looked any different than it had prior to his near introduction with the floor - looking sheepishly to Lyra. "I am fine, thank you." he half smiles, not realizing that she was the same readheaded woman that he had seen jumping up and down on a starship wing but a month before. Smile still lingering, Jarek turns quickly as one of the servers approaches him. Grabbing a glass of...liquid of some sort, he nods once again and turns back to Johanna. "I am suprised to see you here as well. I must appologize for our previous meeting. I didn't hold back at all on my vacation to Corusca City and my actions were uncalled for, albeit whiskey induced." He smirks, taking a step back. "Though I am more suprised at how well you clean up." His mind vomits, this was too much for one night. "Allow me to properly introduce myself," He is cut off at the announcement of the Draga the Hutt. Waiting for J'Eeves to finish, he picks back up where he had left off. "I am Jarek Syris."

Having just recoverd for the sudden, at least to Elya, appearance and dissapearance of the waiter the last thing she expected was to be addressed again. The approch of the slighly taller Twi'lek would have gone unnoticed if not for his sudden act of speaking, and even more his sudden act of misstepping. The fall, much of which seems to be in slow motion, carries the man just past her. Which is a good thing, because she would not have been able to support his weight and the both would have fallen in the heap. "Oh, my" she says bening at the knees and reaching towards him, her lekku flickers in sympathy, "Are you al...." Her words are promptly cut off as a blast of music, a fanfare is played. leaving her hand on the fallen man's shoulder she can't help but turn her head to see the massive form as he enters. Her eyes go as wide as the can upon seeing his form enter, his grand greeting echoing in her ears. Though when she catches site of the slave girl, her jaw goes tight...and body tenses, the lekku at her back wriggling wildly.

"Lord Geophreigh Smitherbodkins, madam," he says, taking Johanna's hand and bending over it, lips barely brushing the back in a kiss. "I am so pleased that you found time in your busy schedule to attend." He begins to say something else, but blinks as she is fairly knocked from her feet by the rather clumsy unidentified stranger of before. "You should be more careful, my good man," he says somewhat chastisingly, "the lady might have fallen." Lyra's arrival causes him to turn, though he blinks in surprise, barely recognizing the stately woman before him. For a moment, it's as though he's seeing his own Marguerite once more, standing there. Finally, he manages, "Madam...Lyra. You look stunning." Though his words sound more astonished than flattering. It really was uncanny...he shakes his head, bringing himself back to the present and remembering himself. Taking the offered gift, he says, "Thank you...I am sure it will be as lovely as the one who gives it." Just then, J'Eeves' announcement catches his ear, and he looks apologetic, saying, "If you will excuse me..." Better, as well, to compose himself. He looks almost as though he's seen a ghost. Making his way to Draga, the man manages a pretty good impression of his usual smile, as he bows to the great lord. "I am so pleased that you could attend, O Magnificent one!" He sweeps his hands to the buffet tables, "I do hope that you are pleased. The menu you sent was quite exquisite!" And expensive, as well, though that hardly mattered.

Vyal enters the ballrooms followed by a troop of waiters Waiters in deep blue chersilk tunics surround the table laying out the dinnerware. The orichale metal plates bare the image of the Smitherbodkins family crest along the rim. Endwa steaks are placed on each plate garnished with chintissa grass and marinated with redor sauce are served. Tall wine glasses are set infront of the plates waiting to be filled with richly flavored Rimble wine. Two of the waiters heft a large elaborate container with Huttese characters carved into the pedestal over to the dias. It is obvious that whatever is in the murky liquid is moving. A third follows in step, leading a large keg of Huttese ale and mug capable of holding the alcohol.

Draga the Hutt. Johanna's reaction could not have been more visceral at the announcement. She twitches visibly, none too happy at the prospect of being in the same room with the repulsive creature that had imprisoned her Master and her for a while, long enough for the Imperials to stop by and haul them off. Had that been before or after the incident with Scarlott and Kyokusha and the bloodbath at the palace on Tatooine? She sighs as her memory seems to fail her momentarily, the recollection of the internment and the subsequent encounter with then-Emperor Malus enough to throw everything into disarray. For a brief, irrational moment she considers simply running the creature through with her weapon... and then realizes that (a) She left her lightsaber elsewhere, and (b) Murder is Bad. "You'll have to excuse me, my people don't do well around the stench of the Hutts," she mutters under her breath to Jarek before favoring Draga with a withering glare as Smitherbodkins bows and scrapes before the repulsive bulk of the giant slug. "But," she continues, forcing a cheerful note into her voice, "Mister Syris? I could say the same for you. You don't have to look so surprised." Then, turning to Lyra, "You look fantastic. Who made your dress?" And then... the buffet tables are laden with their delicious goodness, and the Jedi only has eyes for the vittles adorning the sea of white. And the booze. Yes, especially the booze. Bad Joh! "Hey, Ai'kani! Let's say that you and Lyra and Mister Syris over here have ourselves a few drinks." Good Maker, especially since it was all on the house! She simply MUST interrogate those buffet tables to determine their real identity.

Draga the Hutt? For a moment, Ta'Keshi's amber eyes widen in utter surprise and then narrow slightly. "Did I say an interesting composition?" she murmurs, perhaps to herself. "I think this crowd can now be catagorized as highly unusual and potentially volital." So far the Shistavanen has successfully kept her past employment quiet, carefully choosing to visit locations where she would run only miniscule risks of being recognized. For a moment, the red-gold furred female considers vacating the premises... but no, she'd miss out on good food and satisfying her curiousity. Nibbling on a hors d'oeuvrek, Tak watches the Hutt's grand entrance. The quiet query of her young companion drags Ta'Keshi's attention back to Zhamari for a moment. She smiles and pats the young Horansi's shoulder again. "That drink tastes funny, but it'll help you relax. Just pour it all in your mouth at once and swallow it quick. Then have a few more of these snacks and you will feel better." This advise is given to the young Treka in her own native tongue. Thankfully the Shistavanen knows Horansi well enough to communicate easily. Tossing back her flute of champagne and swallowing the liquid quickly, Tak sets an example for her young friend before turning slightly to observe those she recognizes in the crowd. Not that she really knows names... but she has seen the two Jedi women before. So she observes them with interest. Not that she doesn't occasionally look over to watch the goings-on at the tables... The Shist blinks at the container with food that hasn't even been slaughtered yet. Ulp... maybe she shouldn't have guzzled her drink like that.

Alistair remains on his face for a few moments. The first twi'lek he has encountered since the crimson menace that tried to kill him, and he manages to nearly take her out with one swift kerplunk. Carefully coming up to his feet Alistair places a hand behind his head with an embarrassed smile and is about to speak when Draga's entrance is announced. The twi'lek slows the straightening of his posture and he seems to have a similar reaction as Elya towards the observation of the slave. His own groomed lekku writhe against their bonds as his eyes cast downward. For a moment he does not speak, feeling quite removed from the entire scene all together. However, this was a party, and Alistair was not about to ruin it for himself. Placing the charming smile right back where it was before, he sets his eyes back on the slightly shorter orange twi'lek. "..I'm Alistair." is all he manages. What is this? No clever catch phrase nor pickup line? No extraordinary stretch of the truth? No. I'm Alistair, unemployed and likes to get into fights that he can't win. Not that he said any of that, but certainly something as simple as 'I'm Alistair' would portray such an indepth story of his life, that only a fool would not be able to realize it!

Lianja Tantai has been lurking in the corners all this time, staying out of the way while it tried to remember how you're supposed to act at these sorts of functions. "Hello, how do you?" It whispered. "My name is.. I'm.." And so on. Eventually the being straightened its vest, tightened its gloves and strode forth into the crowd. Chin up. Smile. Hopefully it would make no mistakes.

Oh this is just too much, a part of Lyra just wants to bust out laughing, but the better part of her accepts the flattery in stride as she yields up the gift with a pleasant smile. She's about to add something more when the clarions announce the arrival of some particularly august guest. Then a Hutt comes in juddering and roiling. Gross. Her pleasant, formal facade cracks for a moment replaced by a narrowing of the eyes and a compressing of hte lips. Oh great. A Hutt. Considering it was announced, it would probably be a bad idea for Lyra to go around threatening it with a salt shaker. Finally, she manages to set aside such unworthy thoughts and get back to at least a mask of joviality, though it seems much less natural now, a slightly frosty formality to her mannerisms. As their host abruptly extricates himself and rushes off to greet the big slug, she looks over at Johanna, "Johanna, I did not think you would attend so I made my own arrangements to be here. I am pleased you were able to make it," she manages, giving something that might be called a smirk on usual Lyra. On her, it could be called more of a kittenish smile as she lets her eyes wander over to the buffet tables and to the drinks being passed around. Darn. So boring. Wines and champaignes. Nothing bright green or blue and certainly nothing has something living swimming in it. Strictly boring. She pauses to take signal a waiter who brings over a tray of fluted glasses and she takes one, slipping from it.

Ai'kani leans in as Silvin whispers something to her. She nods gently and hugs him again before the man departs. Whatever the reason for his departure goes unsaid, Ai'kani turns back to the small group she was lead to join. "Well... I don't really...." Her eyes skim over Johanna and Lyra pondering to herself what she could be missing by denying herself some fine and elegant... and /free/ drinks. Then, her eyes fall on Jarek.... damnit. "Why not," she finally says before giving the Hutt a slight glance. "He's definitely not the Hutt Faust worked for," she replies idly to Johanna. "But I bet he is just as low as them." Clearing her throat, Ai'kani then says louder: "Yes, Lyra. You look lovely, as well. If nothing else, it's nice to see different sides of people."

With his announcement introducing the guest of honor made, and the food being brought out to the tables, J'Eeves' main duties for the night were almost complete. The guests were happy and were being fed, and thus far there had been very little in the way of horrible mishaps. Even the chandalier seemed to be staying afloat. Lathrag was quite a miracle worker! He signals for the string quartet to resume playing, and resume they do, with a cheerful anthem to go along with the service of food. The Kubaz retreats to the kitchen for a reward for a hard day's work.

The arrival of Draga the Hutt, his corpus giganticus and evident ego to match, are Zhamari's first introduction to the Hutt race. And it crosses her mind that he looks not unlike some things she once watched her brothers pull from the warm bottom of a compost heap to use for fishing bait. Only much, much larger. Blinking - she's doing that a lot tonight - the young feline woman gets the idea that she's going to need SOME way to relax. And if Ta'Keshi can gulp down the beverage that way, why can't Zhamari? Giving the bubbling, yellowish drink another sniff, the Treka tilts her head back and pours the champagne in. She manages to swallow the first bit without incident, but the next goes down the wrong pipe, and all the carbonated fizz boils up in her mouth, burning her gums. Clamping her mouth shut, she looks desperately at Ta'Keshi as a tiny cough sputters from her throat. She swallows, then coughs again, thankful the stuff is in her belly and not all over the back of the taylored suit belonging to a man standing nearby. Turning away from the others, she wheezes twice before getting control again over her diaphragm. "Ugh!" she hisses quietly in Horansi, "That's awful! How do you drink that?"

The female Twi'lek forces herself to look away from the slave girl, and the giant Hutt. Her expression dark and brooding, she doesn't know the creature himself but his name has been whispered in the dark alleys and seedy bars. The best discription would be as if she swallowed something quite nasty, and bile does creep into her throat. Snaching a glass of bubbly liquid she takes a long drink, and controls the motions of her lekku, the actions become more controled and conversational. Turning, to face the blue Twi'lek, she offers the man her hand. "Elya'balin, are you alright, Alistair, that was quite an.....introduction." she offers him a small smile to show the comment was in jest. Though her eyes flicker over to the slave, and remain dark.

Lianja actually circles its prey twice, watching them from a distance and workings up its nerve, before moving in closer. The being approaches to two furry alien women with what it hopes is a polite, if pointy teethed, smile on its face. "Greetings," It whispers, drawing closer, almost too close. "I am Lianja. Is it alright if I stand near you?"

Jarek's lips curl upwards at the mention of drinks; a genuine smile, the first of the evening. "I could use a drink, that's for sure." He adds, turning to Lyra and Ai'kani. "Jarek Syris," his smiles is extended to Lyra. "Jarek Syris." It was no longer genuine, forced and barely even there as he introduces himself to Ai'kani. He was almost positive that he knew this woman. "If the food tastes half as good as it looks then I will be in heaven." He wouldn't have to act much longer, a few more hours at the most. Then he could act. He could leave the party, leave everyone that would surely have his hide if they knew what he was truely up to. "I'm going to head over.." his words are cut short, air knocked from his chest as though fists were beating upon it. There we no doubts now, not after the mention of his master. His face shifts from a medium tan to a ghostly white for several seconds, he looks away, taking another step. "..to the table."

At this moment, one of the butlers announces, "May I have everyone's attention! Lord Smitherbodkins wishes to make a speech!" He rings a small, tinkling bell to emphasize his point, then steps to the side, bowing graciously as soon as the room quiets. The moment had arrived. Leaving the vicinity of his guests for the moment, Smitherbodkins strides purposefully toward the stage, climbing the few short steps to the top and moving to stand in the middle. He waits for a moment, bathed in light to full effect, as the noises die down and all the guests begin to turn and look at him, waiting expectantly. "My dear friends and honored guests," he begins, smiling down from his position on high, "I would like to take this opportunity to welcome you all to my humble abode, and thank each and every one of you for your presence this night. It fills my heart with joy to see you here, on this occasion for which I have waited so long." His arm sweeps downward to the place of honor in front of the stage, where the object of his current affection rests in its case. "I have waited many years to acquire this treasure. The journey was inspired by my late wife, and has finally come to fruition. I would like to dedicate this night to her." His voice is ever so slightly choked, and he pauses, bowing his head and taking a moment of silence to compose his thoughts. Looking up once more, he seems to be quite recovered, for he says, "Enjoy yourselves, one and all! I will be sorely disappointed should any of this food go to waste." Chuckling to himself, he descends the stairs once more, whispering to the butler, who nods and gestures to the quartet, who begin playing a merry tune.

Sweeping down, Alistair take's Elya's hand and lowers his head. He however does not make the common motion as his attention is also diverted to the slave that Draga totes with him. A sigh escapes Alistair's lips as he tried to place his full attention back onto the orange woman before him. His tattooed lekku seemingly respond towards her own, though nobody who understood the motions would be conscious of such a fact. Before he can actually make any verbal response, he is interrupted by Smitherbodkin's speech. Listening with keen hearing, Alistair's eyes rest on the host of the party. With a grin, he nods - he will enjoy himself most certainly! "Ah..Yeah. It took me weeks to come up with that one.." Is all Alistair has to interject when he finally has the opportunity to shoot an aside towards the orange twi'lek.

Ta'Keshi winces as Zhamari, the only being she's ever met thus far who is more socially inept than she is, has obvious trouble with the champagne. "Whoa!" the Shist exclaims as she reaches over to lightly pound on the Treka's back. "You're supposed to swallow it, not breathe it, Kid!" Holding out a cracker with some sort of meat topping it, Tak smiles faintly, "Obviously we'll have to find you something that isn't fizzy. Eat this. It'll help with the aftertaste." About to guide her charge off to the table containing a stunning array of other types of alcoholic drinks, Ta'Keshi pauses as someone actually approaches them and speaks. The Shistavanen regards the speaker with her typical suspicion for a moment before replying, "You can stand wherever you like as far as I know." The red-gold furred female flashes a toothy smile of her own to remove any potential sting from her words or previous manner. And then someone starts ringing a bell and calling for attention. After hearing the announcement, Tak grins again. "C'mon! Let's go get something to eat." She tugs her Horansi charge off in the direction of the banquet tables as she amends, "Except for anything that's still moving."

Vyal stands at near the back of the ballroom watching the reactions of the crowd to each other. Silently he watches the crowd to determine what should be brought out next. "This crowd seems to be more of the adventerous variety than you'd expect at a party like this." Vyal says quitely to his personal assistant. "Load up a tray of Mad Mrelf and Narcolethe and bring it around." As the waiter is about to leave, he taps him on the shoulder and looks him in the eye with an extreme seriousness."Keep the shots small." he says shuddering remembering what that stuff can do. A short, stocky, human wanders up to the guest offering the red Mad Mrelf and the blue Narcolethe to guests who seem most likely to enjoy these staples of fringer addiction.

After a short absense, the Kubaz returns to the party, a bottle of cooking sherry clutched in his fist and smelling strongly of liquor. The bowtie around his trunk is quite crooked, but he does not seem to notice. As he emerges from the kitchen, his gaze falls upon Lyra and his eyes grow very wide. "Mistress Marguerite!" the drunk valet nearly shrieks at the top of his lungs as he runs over to her. "What are you doing here? Back! Here?? Here! What?" Tears of joy stream down his face. "The master will be so glad to see you! Master! Master come here! The bug-gods have sent her back!"

Jarek's reactions, however brief, do not go unnoticed by Johanna. She places a hand on Ai'kani's elbow, studying the man's movements as she indicates a need for caution to her friend. Of course, they could already know each other, and the pilot isn't about to go rooting through anyone's mind to arrive at her answers, but hey... it's the least she can do to alert the padawan that something is afoot. "I'm right on your heels," she calls to Jarek, a winning smile belying the double meaning to her words as she gathers up the elegant train of her dress and follows him to the buffet tables. "Looks like our host really went all out." Smitherbodkins' speech is a little weird, though it seems genuine enough, and Johanna restrains herself from rooting through the food before he's finished speaking. Thank the Maker it's over with quickly! She hates to be insensitive, especially after his dedication, but her stomach is bothering her something fierce and demanding food. Without further ado she loads up a plate with fine meats and a salad, and then grabs a strong drink to go with it. Oh what bliss it is to question the buffet table! "You know," she begins, chewing thoughtfully and still eyeing Jarek, "I wonder what kind of a drive it takes to collect... well. Whatever it is that this guy collects. Books, is it?" The commentary is meant less as a perpetuator of conversation than a tool to buy some time with which to gauge the fellow, "I'm no aesthete, myself. But that ice sculpture is hideous, you have to agree."

With her attention drawn in so many directions, it is hard for Elya to focus on just one thing. She only half listens to the speach the host makes, knowing that if not for NovaCom she would not even be present at this party, in this dress, with these people. With one last long look at the slave bothan, she exhales a deep breath and turns her attention to the male Twi'lek though she looks over his shoulder at the two Shistavanens, and easy task due not to his smaller stature but also their large size. So many races she has never met, so many people. Again, she graces Alistair with a rare smile, "Did it now, I should think you might want a less risky approch. Or is it common for you to throw yourself at women?" The humor is forced, as the sight of a Hutt has made this an even more stressful event. So much so, that ELya remains distant from the food and off the dance floor, away the majority of the crowd.

Draga the Hutt is helping himself liberally to the writhing gourmets his gracious host has provided, to the exclusion and ignorance of most everything else going on. Once he's had his fill, he turns to the guards as if no one else is ine room, and roars, "Send it in now." As a multilimbed shadow is visible in the doubledoorway, the Hutt's mood seems to lighten by a shade. He turns back to Smitherbodkins, "The food is excellent. Your cook should be rewarded. Do not think I have come to your party empty-handed. My gift to you." He turns toward the doorway, as a large mechanical spiderlike apparatus shambles into the room sporting a transparent globe at the front in which a brain floats half-submerged in fluids, the occasional electrical charge seen shooting through the fluids, hinting that there is still some life to the dislocated organ. The spiderlike being moves about in a curious manner. "ONe of the recluses that hole themselves up beneath my palace. I beileve you may find use of it." (speaking in Huttese)

Ai'kani felt it, too. The sudden disturbance coming straight from within Jarek and propelling out quickly. Even more so, his entire complexion has changed. Who /is/ this guy and why does he seem so different towards her. Even his introduction was cold. Sparing a glance to Johanna, she nods in silent agreement. Something is very off about that man. "Indeed, indeed," she says, moving along with Johanna. Best to keep an eye on Jarek. Just as she is reaching for a crack and spread, the woman looks up to see the "gift" Draga has brought with him. The cracker falls from her hand as Ai'kani's gaze falls on the.... thing. "What in the name of the highest powers is that?!" Suddenly, she isn't very hungry anymore.

"A different side...?" Lyra asks Ai'kani questioningly as she moves with Johanna and Ai'kani like some horrible little gossiping pack of girls in middle school. Lyra finds herself looking over at Ai'kani, but the redhead's eyes linger on Jarek's sudden reaction, one that could be called peculiar to say the least. "I wonder if he is unwell, stumbling about, and now this...perhaps he needs a medical droid," she hazards, watching as Jarek stumble about and keeping her voice low enough so that shecan't be overhead. The redheaded woman finds herself picking things, almost mechanically, choosing a few things, but passing over the majority of items. For anyone who watches her closely, she manages to take smaller portions to fill up her plate. No matter, Johanna should more than make up for her lack of partaking in the food. Instead, she's watching the Monk, or what would be a B'omarr Monk if she knew what it was. As is, she just comments, "How ghastly." This coming from Lyra of all people. Any other comment is interrupted by the reappearance of something similarly odd, at least to Lyra. No, it doesn't show its brain nor does it scamper about on mechanical legs. But being called Mistress Marguerite does certainly rate somewhere decently high on the weirdness meter. "I am afraid there is some mistake," the Lyra-who-was replies to J'Eves, "I am not Marguerite."

As he descends from the dias, Smitherbodkins' attention is drawn to Draga as he speaks. He stops in front of the majestic Hutt, bowing as he says, "You are too kind," he says, a smile lighting on his face, "Without your expert menu, it would not have been possible." The mention of the gift causes his smile to widen, as he says, "A gift! How unexpected! Thank you, O Great One." Turning, his eyes fall on the...B'omarr monk? There's a long pause where he looks as though he is struggling for words to express himself. Finally, lets out a great laugh, slapping his knee with pleasure. "Draga! I would never have expected! You will go down in history for this one!" He looks, for whatever reason, quite pleased. "He will be able to translate the book! How did you know? Just what I have always wanted!" An actual monk? Not many people ask for those on their birthday list. But Smitherbodkins is not most people. Just then, Smitherbodkins' ears are graced with the loudly shrieking voice of the Kubaz. Already shaken with his own vision of the woman who looked so like his dear departed wife, Smitherbodkins turns, murmering, "Excuse me, Your Mightiness. I must see to my valet." As though he almost believes that he will see her there, in the flesh. Of course, it's only Lyra, and he begins to walk in that direction, his expression rather grim. That little valet was going to get it, one of these days. He had told J'Eeves to stay out of the sherry. "J'Eeves!" he cries as he reaches the inebriated Kubaz, one hand lunging out to grab him by the shoulder and shake him, "Have you gone mad?? How could she have come back from the dead?!?" Looking up to Lyra once more, he continues in a more civil tone, "I apologize profusely, Miss Lyra...you look so much like my late wife, my valet has become confused."

Simetha walks into the ballroom and looks uncomfortably around. "Coming here without an escort was a bad idea," she mutters under her breath, and pulls her wrap closer around her shoulders. She smiles and nods, to no one in particular until she comes to a small cluster of people looking at something. Risign to tippy toes she tries to peer past those in front of her. "What in the galaxy is that thing?" she says rather audibly. She weaves a little trying to get a better view of it through the people and others in front of her. Not knowing anyone, she stands back to observe the behaviour of the other guests.

Still fighting fights of coughing, Zhamari offers an apologetic smile to Lianja as Ta'Keshi drags her off toward the buffet line. She's hungry, really, but at the same time, she isn't. And that champagne she just drank didn't help her appetite much. For the sake of her taste buds, she takes the proffered snack and crunches it between her teeth. Thank the gods for the savor of meat! She would thank the gods, too, to be out of this crowd. Actually, the crowd isn't so bad as just being out of her element in it. Again, she tugs at the material clinging to her body and pressing her fur against her frame.

Lianja gives the ringing bell barely a glance and the speech only gets half his attention until the host becomes slightly choked up... The being's head swivels quickly towards Smithers. "Mmm," It whispers, then wth a jolt remembers where it's at. The vest is straightened once more as it quickly turns back to the furry and now departing females. It gives Zhamari a little finger wave before it snags a drink from a waiter and begins to stalk the room once more. It passes by many beings and all are dismissed until finally it spies Vyal... With drink in hand the being approaches.

Vyal casts his pale stare a the drunk manservant."So that is what happended to the cooking sherry." he says to himself quietly as moves closer to J'Eeves. The swishing of his skimmersilk slacks are the only audible thing coming from his as he approches the Kubaz. Vyal looks to the host and his employer this evening and back to the Kubaz. Slowing his pace, he looks between them leaning forward and bowing his head slightly. "Is all well, Your Lordship?" He says says obviously concerned.

And right on his heels they were. It was a good thing that his footing was not compromised as the four head towards the tables, for someone probably wouldn't get back up after that tumble. Unlike everyone else, Jarek does not stop walking as Smitherbodkins begins his speech. Touching. Really. He shakes his head and begins to finger through some unrecognizable dishes, placing a scoop of this or that on his plate and grabbing himself a small drink. "Books, yes." Jarek nods to Johanna, lifting the glass to his lips and drinking much more than he had first intended. "And I'm not entirely sure what sparks his drive. I guess when you have enough money for all of this," his eyes wander around the room for a brief second before snapping back to the woman. "You have to try and find -something- to collect. I would imagine that it is similar to those that collect weapons, ships, or swoops. Whatever works for him." Whether the book was interesting or not, it was worth a lot of money. Ripped from thought, Jarek errupts into laugher, quite loud at first, but quelled as he pours more liquid down his throat in order to drown out the loud noises. "Quite ugly indeed." he states as he regains his composure, "Though I've never really been drawn to this style of living." Understatment of the evening, no doubt. "So what is it that you do, Ms." Had she introduced herself? "I see that the young one is not with you this evening."

That is it, normally Elya would be intrested in how the mechanical spider functioned, the techie background kicking in. Not today. It is bad enough that it seems her employer has left her to fend for herself, in a place that she knows she doesn't belong. But, brains in a jar, slave bothans as well as Hutts masters is more than she can stomach. Offering a polite bow to the blue Twi'lek, she excuses herself. If this was a test by NovaCom, she'll stick to working in the repairshop's back room. Weaving her way across the dance floor, and through the crowd she makes her excuses and "excuse me" as she strides towards the door and out.

The Kubaz's tears of joy turn to tears of sorrow, feeling as if he has lost the young mistress all over again. "Oh, Master Smitherbodkins, it is not fair. I miss her so!" J'Eeves begins to sob sadly, dabbing his eyes on his immaculately clean sleeve. He looks as if he is about to sit down on the floor and have a good cry when the B'omarr monk walks in. His grief forgotten, he whispers in that way that drunk people whisper that is not really a whisper but more of a very loud voice, "Is that a B'omarr monk??" He had done much research on the sect while trying to help his master procure the tome that has sparked the party tonight. Without waiting for a response, the Kubaz has departed, making his way through the crowd towards the large spider-like creature. "Lord Monk!" he says loudly, bowing in front of it. "It is an honor to have you here at the Smitherbodkins estate! Please! Have a drink!" The valet looks around for one of the waiters with trays of liquor but finds none in sight. Instead, he offers his bottle of sherry.

The nice bit of salad that Johanna was just about to chew on finds itself leaf-projectiled back onto the plate she's holding as she catches sight of the hideous brain-in-a-jar thing. "WHAT THE KARK," the Jedi hollers before regaining her composure and turning firmly on her heel so as to avoid having to look at the revolting contraption, "And I *thought* I'd seen it all. Hell, was I ever wrong." She looks from Ai'kani to Lyra and then back again, before her gaze settles on Jarek once more. "Oh, I never introduced myself. Sorry." A hand reaches out in a seeming gesture of social propriety. "I'm Johanna. Yes, my son isn't with me this evening. These gatherings aren't meant for children, after all." Not only that, but with Corellia under Imperial control... well, technically she shouldn't be here, but the prospect of having a chance to snoop around and eat and see the floating chandelier and maybe pick up a hot date... well! Sometimes a girl can't help herself. "I crew on bulk freighters," she continues, enjoying the texture of this lie she's beginning to tell, "I know my way around their innards better than most, so. The pay is pretty decent if you understand how to make yourself indispensible." Here's hoping Lyra and Ai'kani don't die laughing.

No. She doesn't die laughing. Ai'kani just smiles so wide her cheeks almost split in two. That's all. "I must say," Ai'kani chimes in to keep Jarek from dwelling too deeply into one person, "I am so rude. You introduced yourself and I haven't even given you my name!" Though it seems as if he never wanted it in the first place. Extending a hand, she waits for him to accept. "My name is Ai'kani. Unfortunately, my occupation isn't as elaborate as Johanna's. Though I do share the Master of the House's interest in books. I am quite studious and am one of the caretakers for a museum on Coruscant." Close enough. For a moment, she glances to her side to see a small fuss being brought up over Lyra. Frowning gently, the Jedi looks back towards the table. "I'm surprised the Hutt left anything in his wake, huh?" An idle comment made as the woman's attention seems to be waivering between the conversation and something else.

The Hutt begins to watch the other attendees at the party for the first time with some interest, remaining mostly silent as his eyes scan those in attendance. The spider thing notices J'eeves approach and speaks through its vocoder with an emotionless synthetic voice words coming out slowly. "I do not feel...honored. I feel...out of place. But still...the mysteries of life are to be found....everywhere. Perhaps there is...more I can learn here...than I have gleamed...where I was. Drink. ... I desire no drink nor do I have need...I am sustained...the demands of the body are mine no longer....food and drink....mere distractions from...the approach to purity."

Lianja appears reluctant to approach the man just yet, instead hovering nearby waiting for Vyal to move away from the host. In the mean time the being takes a sip of its drink, swirling the liquid around on its tongue then, after a quick glance to make sure no one is looking, it spits the liquid between its sharpened teeth, watching with childish glee as it arcs back into the cup,

"I see." Jarek states, raising an eyebrow at Johanna. "So I suppose-" OH DEAR GOD. He sees the spider brain jar machine for the first time, and much like those around him, he stops shoveling food into his mouth. "Wow. Anyways." he tries to pick up where he had left off - a miserable attempt to say the least. Luckily for him, Ai'kani chimes in. "Ai'kani." A cold stare settles over the man for a few seconds. "I can't say that I have a liking for books, though I am eager to see the one that has caused such a fuss." He is clearly talking about the party. Forgetting about whatever it was he wanted to ask Johanna, Jarek sets his plate down on the table and downs the rest of his drink. "Would anyone care to dance?"

Yeah. Anyway. That's a good way of summing up Lyra's reaction as Smitherbodkins comes and chases away the drunken Kubaz. "It is quite all right," Lyra replies to the obviously slightly out-of-sorts gentleman, adding a commiserating smile and a shake of her head. "I am sorry to hear of your loss." There. She even managed to say it like she meant it. Still, even then, Lyra manages to listen with half of an ear to Johanna's latest lie. There's an unaccountable shake of her head added in as she hears the desert woman lying to Jarek, but she doesn't try to correct her or even suggest anything to Jarek that she's onto the whole thing. Instead, she glances over at the Monk, around with the drunk J'eves now capers around, "That is your guest, my Lord?" she asks Smitherbodkins.

Vyal looks upon this scene with puzzlement. Though curious about what is taking place between the machine and the manservant, he was hired to perform a service. Passing one of the servers, he places a hand on the shoulder of the rail-thin Duros waiter and points to the host and the manservant. "Drop whatever you are doing and bring a mug of bactade to him." he says with quite concern. He raises burgundy colored eyebrow at the being that is near his station. Having seen many of the galaxies races, this one eluded him. He bows to the strange alien and gives a polite smile. "Good evening, is there anything I can get for you?" he asks in an engaging voice.

"I could take a turn about the room," Johanna nods to Jarek, stepping up the task, as it were, to form a more accurate impression of him, "Here, Ai'kani. Would you hold my plate for me?" Without waiting for the reply, the pilot shoves the plate at the padawan and exchanges a private glance with her before grinning at Lyra and scooting over to her would-be dance partner. "Tell me, Mister Syris, are you particularly good at the sort of dancing they do here, or is your area of expertise rather more... shall we say... common?" She's goading him a little, of course. "I hate to be snooty but the choreography is positively mathematical." It's all said with a wink to soften the delivery. How will he take it? "So, where exactly does your line of work bring you? Mine gets me all over the galaxy, though we always stick to the major trade routes and don't venture far out of our comfort zones."

Before she can answer, Johanna takes the exact same opportunity /she/ was going to take. Instead, Ai'kani finds herself serving as guard-dog for the Knight's plate. Blinking a bit dumbfoundedly, she watches as the two literally waltz away. Looking back to speak to Lyra, she finds that the woman, too, has dismissed herself elsewhere. "Great..." she mumbles; looking at the half-eaten grubs on Johanna's plate. There's only one thing worse than being a wallflower at a party... and that is to be standing by yourself next to the buffet.

"I was not aware that the Great Draga would be bringing him. But I could not be more pleased!" Smitherbodkins looks as eager as a young boy who's been indulged in his pet hobby. And, that's really precisely what he is. Although not young, of course. He looks at J'Eeves somewhat indulgently, a smile on his face, all previous ill humor seemingly forgotten. "J'Eeves seem to be quite smitten with him. A very interesting guest indeed..." The band strikes up another waltz just as he finishes his words to her. His smile grows, and he then extends a hand to Lyra, bowing slightly. "May I have the honor of this dance, madam? You are too lovely for me not to ask you."

The mighty Draga watches as some of the guests take to the dance-floor. "Lyshi!" he barks, and the timid bothan female in the provactive gown holds up her head as a reflex with more than a little fear in her eyes. "What would please my lord?" she speaks. One word from the Hutt. "Dance." The female nods and immediately begins to twirl around seductively in a rhythmic dance that sends her loose white fabric flowing in intricate and artistic manners. The Hutt nods his head seeming to be more pleased by Lyshi's acceptance of his order than by her grace and coordination. He coos deeply as the bothan does her best to pretend he's not there, and lose herself in the dance. (speaking in Huttese)

J'Eeves stares at the spider-creature for quote some time, nodding his head and scratching his chin. "Yes, yes," he says intelligently. "I have often wished for a robot body! This raggety old thing gets so tired and hungry sometimes. The master works his valet quite hard sometimes! Why, did you know that I am really responsible for planning this party? I saw that the invitations were printed and I delivered them all and I saw to the food preparation! Smitherbodkins just had to make a speech or two!" This was, of course, not entirely true, but J'Eeves was quite worked up anyway. "I was even the one to track down the book, of course! I have read quite a bit about you monks! It is an honor to meet one in person! Perhaps you could answer me something...how do you use the facilities?"

"Facilities..." the monotone voice of the monk repeats. "Unnecessary... To seek purity...is to go beyond the base needs...of the body...eating...drinking...sleeping...breathing...you have little idea how much....brainpower is wasted....on these mundane tasks...catering to the useless flesh...when the mind can wander...my mind...is no longer trapped...no longer slave to flesh...and so I devote myself fully now...to contemplation...in time i will no longer need....to even pay attention to outside stimuli...as those who have come before have...i will explore the cosmos...from within."

It can't be said Lyra exactly shares Smitherbodkins' pleasure in the B'omarr Monk's arrival. It was a rather creepy ... thing. But it was so hideous, with the brain floating there and idly Lyra wonders if it was possible for a brain to get suburned, being all exposed like that and floating like the snack of some Hutt at a podrace. "Yes, it does indeed," Lyra rings an agreement with Smitherbodkins' assesment. Watching J'Eeves speak with the cyborg, she feels a pang of emotion that she can't quite place. The redhead's melancholia isn't allowed to last. The Host is asking a dance of her, and there's no polite way she can refuse, though it's obvious she flirts with the idea the way she glances over at Ai'kani, the Padawan left as some endtable to hold Johanna's plate while the desert woman dances off Jarek. She gives Smitherbodkins a smile as she replies, "Of course, what sort would I be to turn down the Host for the honor?" she replies smoothly, placing her dish discretely aside. It's not some paper-plate affair. She doesn't bother remembering where she puts it. She can always get another dish.

Vyal watches the guest dance. He watches each of their movements carefully, watching their styles and trying to determine if it says something about their inner character. From across the room he spies a past patron of his restraunt acting as keeper for anothers plate. Searching the room for one of the servants, he orders the man to bring a small table. A small brown table is brought in from the back and is brought to the near human female.

Ai'kani looks around idly. Okay... Lyra is getting a dance from the host... Johanna is dancing with Jarek... the bothan slave is dancing with herself.... and she... she is holding a plate. Sighing deeply, Ai'kani idly eats one of Johanna's crackers slowly. The patheticness of her situation suddenly becoming /blaringly/ obvious as a table is put in front of her. "Um.... no, thanks. I'm... holding it for a friend." No, thanks. I'm so lame...

Who can fathom the workings of Lianja's twisted mind? As Vyal approaches the being smiles widely. "I am fine, thank you for asking," Tantai whispers as it suddenly crosses the short distance to the food table. A sudden blur of movement and the glass is smacked against the table turning it into a jagged weapon. In almost the same motion Tantai reverses its grip on the jagged thing and stabs itself in the middle of the chest, ripping downwards. The blood flows instantly, seeping up through broken skin, soaking the red shirt and staining green gloves. A moan escapes Lianja's lips as it stumbles against the table, the bloody weapon slipping from its hand to shatter on the floor.

Jarek moves towards Johanna without hesitation. "I've had my share of dance lessons." he grumbles, motioning towards the tie pin. "My uncle is high society, I was trained early on, even though I rarely care to use such skills." He tastefully dips Johanna back, winking at her before pulling her closer. "I'm afraid I don't really have a lot to say about what it is that I do, though. I've been a...free spirit if you will, for some time. Have no need to work as I have all the money I'll ever need, though adventure and such does draw me into some things." It is now, that the second phase of the plan is put into action. Pushing their way through throngs of people, several beings in black tuxedos push their way towards various positions in the room. Ten human males, to be exact, all adorning billowing white cloaks and stern expressions. It takes but a minute before they each arrive at their respective destinations; Several scattered amidst the dancing, one edging unusually close to the dais, as well as a few more near the staging area. Everything was ready. The dance between the two is cut short as Lianja begins to cut himself. "Oh my lord!" Jarek blurts out, pointing to the odd being who was now gushing blood. "What is wrong with him." This comment is made under his breath and he quickly diverts his eyes. Turning away from Lianja, Jarek slips - however clumsy he might look, it /had/ been planned. His hand flys backwards to his jacket. It was a split second, though his fingers slipped into the pocket, grasping the flash grenade. His index finger skillfully twists through the pin, popping out and letting go of the object before ever pulling his hand from his jacket. "Oops." Jarek blushes, looking towards the woman as it falls towards the ground. Jarek hears nothing but the click of the metal. Another series of clicks sound throughout the room, though with the the noise of the party one would be hard pressed to hear. -FLASH- The flash grenades explode, lighting the room to unbearable levels and temporarily blinding anyone who had been unfortunate enough to enter the party with eyes. This was it, Jarek unshields his face and sprints towards the glass box, narrowly twisting and turning between the crowds of stunned people. The men in white capes rush towards him, gawking at the spider creature. A shattering of glass. The white capes drop to the floor. Jarek grabs the book quickly and hands it off to one of the men who in turns hands it off to another, then another. It is eventually shoved into a pocket and the men retreat into the frantic crowds. Jarek smirks and does the same, preparing to fight his way out of the room should anyone have seen him.

Just as Smitherbodkins takes Lyra's hand to lead her to the dance floor, pandemonium erupts. The giant flash causes him to duck down, shielding his eyes from the massive glare. For a moment, he's unable to do anything, the chock of the grenade going off almots too much for him to bear. Then, the glass. Oh my god... He continuously blinks, trying to clear his eyes, but he's already stumbling forward even before most of the guests have recovered. He should have expected something like this to happen. Curse them, where were the guards that he'd placed? "GUARDS!" he fairly screams, looking around in vain, spots of light clouding his vision as the men in white look like nothing so much as angels of death to him. "THE BOOK! GET THE BOOK!"

J'Eeves had not planned any pyrotechnics for the festivities tonight. The goggles he wears to protect his eyes has mostly protected him from the blinding effects of the flash grenades. He is not immune from the panic that erupts in their wake, however. Blinded guests stumble about, screaming and groping blindly. "The book! Mr Monk! They are taking our book!" he yelps. "Excuse me, please." Ever the gentle-kubaz. "Guards!!" he screeches, echoing his master, but it seems that the guards are not stopping, but facilitating the robbery. Who had hired these guards??? They would be fired in the morning! Dodging betweeen the helpless guests, the valet rushes for the double doors, hoping to seal the room before the book made its exit.

The Ghost of Alderaan smiles as she places her hand in Smitherbodkin's grasp and allows herself to be led out to the dancefloor. Not that she's ever done this in her entire life. Or that she's ever had lessons per se. She just knows the steps. It's even easier than shooting a blaster for her. The dancing wasn't the sort she was used to when the word came up, the word having a distinctly different meaning in the Nar Shaddaa undercity. Or maybe not. There's a blinding flash and what feels like a moment of disorientation. The Ghost, lured out by the thought of a civilized evening out vanishes to whatever corner of Lyra's mind it occupies. "What the frell was that?" she asks, the voice firmly that of Nar Shaddaa this time, the accent of lost Alderaan vanished so completely it's difficult to imagine it ever being there. A hand goes to where she usually carries her weapon ... and finds nothing. Nothing at all.

Draga coughs as the smoke begins to dissipate, writhing around angrily. The monk on the other hand stays perfectly still as if nothing is out of the ordinary or unexpected. Everything is just to be experienced. The guards quickly move to the Hutt's side to ensure that he's okay and no attack has been made on him. Suddenly, Draga's eyes go wide as he glances around the room as if looking for something lost. Enraged, he shoves one of the guards away. "Lyshi! She's gone! She must have fled during the smoke! Find her!" The guard gets up and runs out. Only then does Draga begin to take notice of what else is missing. (speaking in Huttese)

Vyal's eyes dart open at the display of self mutilation in front of him. He shuffles back from Lianja keeping his eyes trained on the strange alien. "What does this mean?" he says under his breath. With his concentration on the bleeding creature in front of him; the flash grenade takes him by suprise. The blinding light almost drives him to his knees. Pulling open the clasps on his coat, he pats around relizing he left it on the ship.Placing his hand next to his heart, he feels the beating of it for the moment, greatful to feel it thumping.

Ai'kani's head suddenly lifts up as the Force is screaming at her. Everything is suddenly chaotic in a wail of warning. There is no time for her to make sense of it. Suddenly, she finds herself yelling. "Everyone! Get---" Damnit. Too late. The flashbang rips into the atmosphere; tearing into Ai'kani's heightened senses. The woman half-crumbles; hands pressing to her ears and her eyes shut tightly. Chaos... panic. 'Johanna!' The Padawan is left in a state of confusion as she staggers to her feet. She can feel the crowds panicing around her. All she can do is stagger and fight to see again, looking desperately for her friend somewhere in the crowd. The only one that might be able to do something immediately.

Being blinded is the least of Lianja's worries at the moment as it collapes on the floor, dragging plates of food with it. At least one gloved hand is pressed against the wound, for all the good that is doing.

There's a strange prickly sensation nagging at the edges of her awareness the entire time she's dancing with Jarek. "Adventure? You seem too refined for adventure. You dance very well, Mister Syris. In fact..." The sudden arrival of the white-clad humans who move like ghosts, interspersed with the cries of horror at Lianja's display, make for a most disconcerting evening. Is this what she was being warned about? It must be. And yet, there's more, the feeling doesn't lessen any as Johanna processes the information that yes, there's a crazed being cutting itself and yes, some sort of coordinated infiltration is taking place. But does Jarek know about it? Is that even real blood? Flash grenades. She and Bazil had played around with them on Tatooine once, a few kilometers outside of Bestine. Why, again? She can't entirely recall. What she *does* remember is the bizarre glee they'd taken in setting the things off while wearing goggles normally used in the repair of microfissures on starfighters. It's a good thing she doesn't need her eyes to see Jarek's retreating form after he's grabbed the book and run off in the other direction. The months on Kessel had taught her much. In an instant she's in pursuit, the cut of her clothing a mere afterthought as she moves past the confused partygoers to chase after the culprit. What had she said about being on his heels? There's much chaos here but it's not enough to keep her from reaching him and grabbing his left shoulder in a firm grip, preparing to spin him around. How will he react to this new development? Hopefully he will not cut himself and bleed all over her nice expensive dress!

YES! He had done it! The book was safely tucked into the coat of one of the many infiltraters and he was making a steady retreat. He had rides lined up, from the manor to the starport and from the starport into the great beyond. Or so he had thought. A hand grasps firmly at his shoulder. Twisting around quickly Jarek is braught face to face with Johanna once again. "I see you couldn't allow me to leave with just one dance." he winks, continuing to take backwards steps towards the wall. It was clear that Johanna was more than she appeared. She had been caught in the blast yet she could still track him through the room without problem. She had seen him, perhaps not with her eyes, but she had.

"You are more than a simple freightor pilot, Ms. Johanna." he begins, his feet still craftily carrying him until he is but a foot or two from the wall. "You can come with me." he begins. Perhaps he could bribe her, at least to let him escape unscathed. "You'll not get the book back by harming me, it is already on its way off of Corellia. I'm sure that you could use the extra money, though. Think about it." His silver eyes meet with hers, the effects of the grenade surely waring off by now, his gaze unwavering as he offers her quite the sum of money. "Or you can try to stop me and get nothing out of it. It's up to you."

The gentleman has eyes for nothing but the shattered case. He lets out an anguished moan, his expression twisting in a pain that seems to actually be physical. His hands clutch at his chest in agony, eyes trained on the spot where the book had rested. Or at least, the spot that he would be seeing if his vision weren't still a bit damaged. Though it doesn't matter, since he couldn't do anything even if he could see perfectly. He slumps to his knees, mouth hanging open as he's unable to even do anything more. It's gone. The object of years of searching, hours and hours of research, mountains of credits...gone in a flash as though it had never exsisted in the first place. The chaos around him does not even register, the bleeding...whatever it is...is not even spared a glance. Though that would certainly be rather difficult to get out of the floor. Poor J'Eeves. But no, all he can see is a pinpoint in his vision surrounding the pillar and the shards of broken glass on the floor. "Marguerite..." he says, his voice a mere breath, little more than an exhalation, "What do I do now?"

Ai'kani's blurry vision begins to slowly return. As it does so, she is weaving more easily through the panicing guests. She had to find Johanna... but everything around is is dulling her senses. She needs to concentrate. Taking in a deep breath, the woman pauses for a moment in order to gather all her thoughts into one focal point: finding her friend. Through the screaming sheep that was once an elegant party, Ai'kani takes another moment before catching the faint hint of Johanna. Looking up again, the woman begins to move through the crowd hurriedly. Perhaps it wasn't too late.

J'Eeves is racing towards the door when he slips on something. Something wet, and red. "Agh!" he yells, not because he is slipping but because whatever this is will be difficult to get out of the carpets. As he recovers his balance, he notices the fallen creature clutching at a horrible chest wound. "Guards! Guards, call the paramedics!" Remembering his elementary first aid training, he looks around for something warm with which to cover the injured being, but can only find a pile of cloth napkins. Washing them later will be murder, but valiantly the Kubaz covers the bleeding creature. "Help will arrive in a moment!" The wailing of his master breaks the heart of the kubaz, and J'Eeves nearly starts to cry again. His party was ruined! RUINED!

The wounded figure on the floor, gazes upwards at the Kubaz, seeing two of them wavering before it. "Is it over?" It whispers. "Please? Is it over?"

Lyra for her part, her evening throughly ruined by this enterance notices Smitherbodkin's sobbing, J'Eves' hysteria. Then she actually notices the Hutt's displeasure. The bleeding sentient who had...what? Cut himself? Maybe. Anything that makes a Hutt unhappy is likely like to be a good thing, and that's nearly enough to recover Lyra's good spirits. In fact, she supresses a moment of wild glee where she would run up and chortle to the Hutt about losing something. Wait. What did he lose? Ooooh, the dancing girl. Perhaps she was in on it? She wouldn't put it past a Bothan. But if not ... Violet eyes scan the room. The lights were so dim in the room, it was hard to see. Or ... the dazzle from flash of light, duh. She looks around, there's only a few ways a Bothan could have fled and Lyra leaves the room in a determined step to find the dancer before the Hutt's men do.

Vyal stands up straight, blinking away the what remains of the effects of the flash bang. Looking around at all the stunned faces make his what his own confused expression must look like from the outside. "What kind of mad creature is this laying on the floor? And why did they leave it?" Was all he could think.

"Bribes don't work on me, Mister Syris." The effects of the grenade are still felt throughout the room, though not as intensely as just a few seconds before. Johanna's unwavering gaze right at Jarek is far too accurate however to be the result of simple physical sight just yet. In fact, she takes another step forward, either forcing him to retreat or defend himself in some other fashion before his back is literally against a wall. "I could end you before you formed your next thought, but that would bring me nothing, as you said. I do however covet a discussion with you. Discussions are nice, aren't they?" Amidst the clamor and sea of beings stumbling about (indeed, six have already blindly wandered into the ghastly ice sculpture... ouch, that's going to leave a mark!), Jarek and Johanna seem quite the composed pair, even when the pilot's voice takes on a subtle change of pitch. "I think you'd like to tell me more about your plans." Who hired this guy? Why is it that she encountered him on Coruscant looking so seedy? This can't be the simple ploy of a bored playboy millionaire... can it?

Well, there goes the neighborhood! "You must be mistaken if you believe that I am going to stay within these walls and converse with you. I might as well commite suicide right here in now if that were the case." He nods, taking off the jacket slowly enough not to invoke any unwanted actions from the crazed woman. Once it is removed, Jarek quickly turns towards the wall that he had been backing into. A window! Yes. He pushes the jacket from his grasp, not waiting long enough to see it fly through the air towards Johanna before he is into a sprint again. One step. Two. He dives, arms covering his now tucked head protectively as he smashes through the window and disappears into the darkness outside. Continuing to roll as he hits the ground, the young sith is on his feet in no time, entering full sprint towards the back of the estate.

The crash of the window seems to bring Smitherbodkins back to reality. His sorrow turns quickly into anger, as he rises, his features livid with rage. Accosting the first guard that he sees, he grabs his collar, screaming, "Who wat the plant? Which one of you was it??? How could you do this to me?!?!" He shoves him backward, anger lending him strength, though he still is not able to really push the rather giant man backward. At all. Looking toward the disgusting display lying bleeding on the floor, he says curtly, "J'Eeves. Clean it up." His mind is already turning over the recovery of his book. Walking quickly toward the broken window, he peers out, though it's not like he really expects the thief of the book to stick around long enough to be seen fleeing by him. Who could have planned this? It was no ordinary heist, of that he was certain. Not many people knew the true value of the book. Most put his obsession down to eccentricity, but there was much more to it than that. "Start tidying up," he says to a waiter woh lies cowering on the ground, uniform covered in food which had been upset by the pandemonium. His tone could have been chipped off the ice sculpture, frigid as it is. He had already lost enough face. It was time to begin thinking of how to rectify it.

"Yes it is all over!" J'Eeves says sadly. And indeed it was. The party was ruined! The book was gone! All was lost! Full of woe, the valet turns to Vyal and says, "You. Clean it up!" J'Eeves was an excellent delegator! Besides, he had more important things on his mind. Like letting in the authorities! He could hear the sirens approaching the manor, the silent alarm having been triggered by the theft. "Everyone remain calm!" he announces, making his way into the foyer. A few moments later, Imperial troops and medics begin streaming into the ballroom. The largest one, obviously a commander, announces, "Everyone line up! Everyone is getting searched!" The aliens are immediately seperated off to one side, objects of extra scrutiny. Some medics go to attend to the injured and those still blinded by the flash grenades.

He can run all he wants. He can even resist her attempts at persuasion once or twice. But he can't escape her, not yet. There will come a time when Jarek Syris has the training and the skill to do successful battle with Johanna but that time is not now. Though his moves are bold, they're not fast enough to stop the pilot and as the two take off across the estate grounds, the jacket left uselessly on the floor inside where it fell after the Jedi chucked it there.

She could take him off his feet with a few of the maneuvers in her otherworldly bag of surprises, but Johanna has always been one who likes to make her points in an obvious fashion. Gathering up momentum, she finally lunges forward, aided by the Force in the unnatural strength of her leap. Jarek's going nowhere but facedown onto the nicely manicured lawn! Too bad about his nice clothes! Oh well. He can be glad it wasn't the gravel path.

Lianja seems to relax as J'eeves speaks. The being closes its eyes and stops struggling so hard against the enroaching darkness.

Just as she finds Johanna, Ai'kani watches as the Knight leaps out of the window. Running up to the windowsill surrounded by shattered glass, Ai'kani watches for a moment as the two figures bolt across the estate. With a quick curse bitten under her breath, the white-haired Padawan jerks away from the window and begins pushing her way through the crowd. Great.... stormtroopers, too?! Fighting through the crowds, Ai'kani attempts to make her way to the front door. She has no doubt that Johanna can handle this bandit on her own. It was the potential back-up he may have that worries her. "Get out of the way," she grunts as panicing patrons step on the hem of her dress. Damnit! It's a rental!

Vyal walks over and checks on his waiters, making sure none of them got hurt. He takes time to pat each of them on the shoulder and help those who have fallen get back up. Once he's sure his staff is well, he asks them politly to help tidy up. A beeping from his jacket startles him for a moment. Gripping the silver and black comlink in his hand, he tells the person on the other in on the other end,"Nah, I wouldn't bother with the Bamassian bread rings. I doubt they would cause much of a stir."

Outside the mansion crouches Tyy'sun Eson atop the shadowed form of a swoop. Cloak draped around his shoulders, cowl pulled low across his features he awaits the sight of Jarek escaping the chaos from within. The lithe Twi'lek had not attended the party, but was the one who informed Jarek of its existance. He would not have entered after that less than positive first impression on Lord Smitherbodkins in the Smuggler's Dig Cantina a few nights previous. As Jarek is flying the compound along with Johanna trailing not far behind, Tyy'sun sets his jaw and fires up the swoop's repulsor and ion engine array, which throttles to life beneath him. Kicking it into gear he leans down and slams into motion just as Johanna smashes Jarek face-first into the lawn. A quiet curse is uttered from the Twi'lek's crimson lips as he angle's the swoop, slightly, meaning to dart by at a slower speed, hoping Jarek is aware enough to grab ahold and climb on as he goes past.

Ruuuun Jareeeek! Ruuuuuunnnn! No such luck. He could sprint, yes. He was one quickly little bugger too, though it was not enough. Johanna leaps, a wombat in a world of sloth. Jarek was clearly the sloth. The jedi plows into him and they both go down in a heap. Grass, it was, painless I think not! The man does not even see Tyy'sun in the distance with the swoop. The blackness begins to move in on him, had he rolled over the top of a rock? Either way he does not move much from his new bed of grass.

The arrival of the stormtroopers seem to fill Smitherbodkins with a rage that knows no bounds. Where were they a half hour ago, when the book was stolen? The thief was already well away from the scene, and questioninf the guests left behind would do no good. "No!" he exclaims, walking up to the commander and thrusting a fist in his face, "This is unacceptable! You may not detain my guests in this manner! Especially not the Magnificent Draga! Let him go at once!" He turns to Draga, his face a mask of rage and grief. "My sincerest apologies, my Lord Hutt. This evening has been disastrous. You are, of course, free to go." The commander makes a noise of protest, but Smitherbodkins holds up one finger with a slight noise in his throat, stopping the man in mid sentence. Not even he dares argue with Smitherbodkins at this moment. The gentleman bows to Draga, his jaw twitching with barely controlled anger. He straightens, turning on his heel and facing the comander once again. "Commander, I do not know where you and your men have been for the past half hour. The alarms went off more than that long ago. Is this how you reward your faithful citizens?" His voice rises ever so slightly in pitch, "The perpetrator has escaped! Leave the premesis at once!" He waves his cane wildly, his hair ever so slightly disheveled from the previous events. Turning to the other guests, he says, ever the gentleman despite the events, "I am sorry for this unpleasant turn. Those of you who wish to leave are, of course, free to go." Which would probably be everyone, at this point.

Breaking through the crowd of people spilling from the main doors, Ai'kani move away from the herd. Picking up her dress with both hands, she runs around the house to where she had seen the two bolting. Ah! There they are! 'Good. She got him down,' Ai'kani thinks as her feet carry her across the knoll. "Johanna. You got him. Good. Now, what do---" The sound of an approaching engine pulls Ai'kani's head upwards. It takes only a moment before she notes the red twi'lek. With a narrowing gaze, she watches him pass with a glare of warning. What is /he/ doing here?

Draga turns his attention to Smitherbodkins, his rage level decreasing slightly, and speaks basic for the first time tonight, "The theft that was perpetrated will not go unpunished. I will send my men to see what they can find out. We will stay in touch. We will talk again Smitherbodkins. Perhaps the monk will still be of assistance." He then gathers his guards, and moves toward the doors to leave, nodding politiely to J'eeves, and making a rude sound at the stormtroopers.

After packing up all they had brought with them, Vyal instucts his crew to head towards the ship. They file out past the stormtroopers, relieved to have survived teh experience. After they leave, Vyal walks up to Smitherbodkins and bows deeply, "It was honor serving you, Your Lordship. If there is anything I can do to assist please let me know." Bowing once more he turns and heads out stopping briefly to bow to J'Eeves.

She pulls Jarek over onto his back, her hands wrapped around his collar as she shakes him. "Who do you work for?" she demands, dark eyes blazing with insistence, "Who hired you?! Answer me!" The roar of Tyy'sun's swoop sounds close by, snapping her attention to it for a moment. Oh great, the last thing she needs is more company. "Answer me!" she hollers again, giving Jarek one last shake for good measure, though not hard enough to knock him unconscious. Is he Tyy'sun's accomplice perhaps? Did the Twi'lek hire him? Or are they both working for a higher power? Why is the book so important?

In a gust of repulsor wind and engine noise the swoop and Tyy'sun blow past Johanna, Jarek and Ai'kani, an expression of sour dissapointment as Jarek fails to take the fall with grace enough to see him. He grips the swoop's handle controls and hits the breaks, yanking his entire body outwtard while squeezing the swoop between his feet. The swoop pivots and slows to a halt and Eson's booted foot touches down on the lawn. He is perhaps 20 yards from the trio of Force intellects. Unsure of Jarek's condition, Tyy'sun can only rev the repulsor engine in annoyance as he holds his poitions, lekku writhing in thought at how to extract his associate without falling to the Jedi. Intimidated by the prospect, he hesitates there a moment before finally slipping his leg off the swoop altogther and unholstering a pair of blasters from underneath the flowing cloak. He crouches down defensively, blasters held high and casts a downcast gaze at Jarek, attempting to assess his condition, looking for movement, and then scanning his more than capable opponents Johanna and Ai'kani. The swoop idles in nuetral, drifting slighly over the lawn in its thrumming hover behind him. We is growing concerned about these unexpected runins with Johanna.

The shaking quickly pulls Jarek away from the darkness and he jerks upward, stopped by the tight grip that Johanna has on him. It takes a second before he is capable of registering what it is that she is asking of him. "Who do I work for?" he repeats the question, not to buy time but instead floored that she even thinks that she can get an answer. "I told you that you will get nothing from me." he states again, a trail of blood beginning to run the length of his temple and down his jaw. "Not here. Not under these circumstances. And certainly not as long as you remain...well..you." the right edge of his lips curl up into a half smirk before fading. "So do what you will." He does not struggle at this point, it would be useless, though he does take note of Tyy'sun, who if he knew what was good for him would simply drive away. There was no salvaging the evening.

Ai'kani grunts gently to Jarek's response. "Typical." However, Johanna clearly has him under control. The white-haired woman's attention is now on Tyy'sun. "What are you doing here, Eson? I do not believe /you/ were invited." She takes a step forward, placing herself a pace between Jarek and Tyy'sun. If they are on cahoots, she's not going to make it easy for them to collaborate. It would seem that their newest captive is of some concern to the otherwise heartless man. "What does he owe you, Tyy'sun, for you to put your neck out like this?"

"You do so at your peril," Johanna hisses, her grip tightening, "I wasn't lying when I said I could end you before you formed your next thought. What could you possibly gain by keeping your employer's identity secret? Do you know what that... creature there is? Do you? He'll leave you face down in the gutter if you fall. Watch him hang back there like the coward he is. He has blasters, a swoop... but he'll leave you here rather than face me." A grim smile blooms across her own features as she regards her largely vanquished opponent. "And what do you think I am, Mister Syris?"

Tyy'sun's eyes narrow as he sees that Jarek is conscious, yet does not fight - he senses the surrender in the Human's eyes as he looks at him. Then he focuses on Ai'kani, and if his eyes could narrow more, they would - but then his eyes would be closed, so he doesnt. Instead his grip on the blasters tighten. He inwardly frowns about losing Jarek to the Jedi, but if the man would not put a boot in Johanna's gut and give them a fighting chance the Twi'lek would be hard pressed to take them both on. And then an idea slips into his mind as he recalls the grenade launcher strapped to his back. The blasters slip back into their holsters and the tube-like weapon is replaced in his hand as he raises. A grenade is plucked off the underframe of the launcher and stuffed into the firing mechanism. This one was a specialty - a dud with all the explosive drained from it by a weapons tech aboard the Remittance. Luckily for Tyy'sun, Johanna and Ai'kani dont know that. "ACtaully I am here to kill him!" he 'reveals', now posing himself as an assasin. The grenade is launched, firing right at the trio - certain doom for any foolish enough to weather the coming blast. Simultaneously Tyy'sun breaks into a run, meaning to cross the 20 yards and grab Jarek from the ground as Johanna and Ai'kani attempt to dodge the decoy grenade!

Jarek laughs smuggly at Johanna. "If you wanted to end me you would. Don't pretend to be something that you are not, Johanna. I am not stupid, I remember well enough the day that we met on Coruscant. At the first sign of trouble your child ran to the basilica without second thought. Ran to his home, no doubt." Jarek had not given up, not yet, though there were definately lines, and should they get crossed prematurely nothing good would come of it. "So if you wish to kill me, do it now or cease with the empty threats." It is about this time that Tyy'sun 'reveals' the intent of his visit, and the grenade flies from the launcher towards them. Jarek's eyes widen, and for the first time he struggles to break free from the woman, arms and legs flailing like a madman.

Ai'kani takes a step back as the launcher is revealed. Okay.. yeah. Can't dodge that. As the grenade flies, she runs towards Johanna and Jarek. There isn't even enough time for her to gather her thoughts, She just grabs each of them by the first fistfuls of garments she can get and tries to pull them away.

Why does she put her ass on the line, again? Why? Honestly now. If the situation didn't call for the utmost in concentration, Johanna would likely have sighed and looked a little morose. Of course, when a GRENADE IS BEING LAUNCHED TOWARDS YOU, there really isn't time to do much but react with thoughts of "OH SHIT" and try to get out of the way. It's a good thing that she's learned to control her instinct to flee however, or the trio would likely have been vaporized. Well, if the ordnance hadn't been fiddled with. But anyway!

The grenade never reaches its destination. It travels as if through a medium much denser than air, its velocity decreasing more rapidly than naturally possible until it comes to a strange, hovering standstill a scant two meters from the startled three. Maintaining that kind of concentration is no mean feat and the pilot stares a bit glassy-eyed at the object that would have spelled almost certain injury (or death!) for them. "I call it a day," she says slowly, unsure of what to do with this newfound object (maybe throw it back at its origin? Ha!), "I really do."

As the grenade hovers miraculously in mid air before the tackling Ai'kani, the concentrating Johanna and the flailing Jarek, the form of Tyy'sun's cloaked body rushes past it and falls over Jarek, grasping the man by the cloak, "Nows your chance." he snarls in near desperation, boot cutting into the lawn as he reverses momentum and airs Jarek to his feet, doing half the work himself. Shocked that his plan seemed to actually be giving them a chance, Tyy'sun moves with surpising speed back across the 20 yards to the hovering swoop, swearing in his mind that Jarek had better be on his heals or the associate may just have to be left behind after all. All his focus is on getting unocasted to the swoop, leaping on and ferrying Jarek and himself down the Corellian streets at few hundred kilometers per hour! He is'nt quite there yet of course.

Jarek is first suprised at the most at Johanna's disposing of the grenade, though what suprises him the most is when he finds himself standing. He is shocked, to say the least, though it does not stop him from running. Once again pushing himself into a full sprint - despite the slight wobble still remaining from his initial blow to the ground plaguing his gait. He does not wait, nor does he ask any questions, but instead closes the distance as quickly as possible and slides onto the back of the speeder.

Jerking around as Jarek is all put pulled from her hands and Johanna doesn't budge, it doesn't take but a few ticking moments for Ai'kani to realize. "It's a dud." She bites out the realization in frustration as Tyy'sun and Jarek manage to escape. "After /all/ that... the little womprat got away." Oh, well... what can they do now except.... Looking back to the house, Ai'kani lets out a heavy and tired breath. "I will go inform Smitherbodkins of our culprit's name and his accomplice." Looking at the dust the speeder leaves behind, the woman's brows narrow. "It's all we can do for now." Sadly. Though Johanna might disagree, Ai'kani knows it what Luke would've done. Doesn't necessarily mean that's what she personally wishes to do, but without a speeder of her own... the attempt would be futile. Looking down to the rental dress that had all but been ripped apart, she sighs again. "I'll have to break the news that his tab just been ruined somehow..." Turning on her heel in the grass, Ai'kani makes her way towards the mansion once more.