RPlog:Last Night on Kichnar

 Level 4 -Keepon Casino-

For many beings, even tall ones, the only reminder this vast room gives of having a ceiling is the three large chandeliers which descend from the lofty roof to illuminate a virtual nebula of color and riches below. Crystal-distorted light casts a hazy glow over the casino, the rich midnight blue and gold trims of the decor giving the establishment the clandestine air of forbidden evenings and half-dreams. A clear aisle from the door sweeps a deep blue path to the bar against the far wall; islands of sabacc tables to the left of the entrance, a smooth near-reflecting black dance floor to the right, and a wide raised dais in the far right corner which bears tables for dining. Odd movement against the wall behind the draws patrons' attentions, for the entire wall, up to two meters, is one large mirror; but not quite, as odd ghost images waft across its surface which have no real origin in the room. The bar, presiding from the back, is long and of a deep real wood, graceful stools before, and one of the largest collections of drinks behind, rising like steppes behind three hard-working human bartenders. The dance of the Sabacc cards, the disturbing and distracting images on the mirror Wall, the elegantly dressed patrons and the dancers on an ebony field give the Keepon Casino a near mythical, ephemeral quality.

 -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Slot Machine => Jedi Duel Machine -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-  Corridor leads to  Level 4 -Northern Concourse-.

Paul_Nighman Paul Nighman is a tall and lanky Corellian, 6'3", with a lean and muscular build. His face sports rugged handsome features and a neatly trimmed short beard which accentuates the cut of his jawline. His hair is light brown with gold highlights, still long, but clearly cut into elegant and tidy lines. He currently wears it tied back with a intricately etched sliver clasp with unfamiliar symbols on it. There is still one unruly swatch which is a tad too short to reach the clasp. This, as always, drops over his brow, frequently covering his left eye. His eyes are expressive and hazel in color with a green sunburst at the center. His skin is lightly tanned and he seems a touch leaner and harder than used to be a few months ago. He has long muscled arms with light scars and nicks crisscrossing them. His hands are similarly large and strong, laced with thin scars. His voice is deep, warm, and gravelly.

Broad shoulders are graced by a deep forest green shirt, a slightly high collar dipping down toward the front of the throat to expose a healthy expanse of collarbones. A black vest drapes over it snugly, casually undone and open in the front. Black breeches mold his legs, tapering down to tall black boots. Only those with the most discerning of gazes will note the knife concealed within the right one. Hanging from a black belt and strapped to his left thigh is a blaster holster, complete with weapon. The ensemble is simple, but elegant. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => 10616 Standard Galactic Credits

Detjin steps into the entry way from the northern concourse. Detjin has arrived.

Detjin nods slightly to the bouncer, and hands the long barreled weapon over before entering.

Sitting at the bar on the far side of the casino, Paul Nighman faces out with his back pressed against said surface. A drink in his hand, his eyes randomly rove about the noisy room, idling here and there on a pretty figure or a fight, but all in all he seems somewhat preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Detjin walks slowly toward the lit bar, and holds up a finger to a bartender there, murmuring something in basic.

Detjin: From first glance Detjin stands roughly six feet tall, and is well armored. The upper of two sets of ears rotating on separate axis, his deeply ebony, oval shaped eyes and numerous sensory spikes instantly reveal his Rodian nature. As he moves, it is with great calculation and intent, as is when he speaks. His voice is a two-toned, relaxed baritone, and, despite all this, he brings with him an air of threat, he looms over his surroundings. The aural appendages perched on his head turn with an agitated pace, in defiance with his agile body, with which each movement appears unhurried.

His armor resembles that of an Imperial Scout Trooper. The Rodian's armor gleams white, nearly without blemish. Twin plates run up both his legs, at the shin and calf, then break at the knee and continue up his thighs. A solid plate encircles his trunk, breaking at the shoulders. Beyond that, his arms are covered in the same fashion as are his legs. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Light Armor  => Rodian Dagger => HBT-4 Hunting Blaster

Detjin looks at you for a moment.

A spray of dim, tiny sparks races across the mirror wall's image, chasing each other to the other far side before disappearing.

Hazel eyes flicker over toward the well armored Rodian joining the bar, one brow rising curiously, but not overly so. The Corellian settles himself back again, eyes scanning the room once more ... and by the set of his features, he seems almost disappointed.

Detjin seats himself, and takes the glass presented him. Peering over its rim as he takes a drink, his eyes move slowly across the casino. The Rodian ignores the eyes drawn to his attire, his lack of concern more than apparent.

There is a small sigh, and the Corellian turns about, placing his glass on the bar. Rising up, he shakes his head as the tender gives him the eye ... the are-you-sure-you-don't-want-another? look.

Detjin blinks, watching Paul in the corner of his eye.

The mirror's image acquires a faint reddish tinge, which fades after a few minutes.

Shaking his head again, a wry smile offered to the tender, he murmurs back, "No, that's my limit ... if you see Ariana, tell her I'm sorry that I missed her?" The bartender takes up the glass, looking about with an almost puzzled gaze. "I told you true," he defends, "could have sworn she said she'd be in today." The Corellian offers the man behind the bar a look, a mock stern yeah-sure-right expression.

Detjin tips his glass back, finishing its contents. He slides the glass and a few credits across the bar, and stands up in league of the Corellian.

That draws Paul's gaze back over with a touch of suspicion, his hazel eyes flickering to and fro, finally settling on the tender. The man offers an unapologetic shrug ... whether the Corellian believes him or not, he got three drinks out of the man. He's done his job. Shaking his head Paul turns to head out, his pace slowing slightly as he watches the patrons winning and losing to his right, and dancers losing themselves in each other to his left.

On the mirror wall, Detjin's reflection morphs into an unrecognizable for a while.

A waitress draws over toward the dallying Corellian, speaking in clear musical tones, "Mr. Nighman? Message for you." She hands him a small datapad with a smile, indicating how to access the information and delete it. "Just deposit it at the bar when you're finished?" Surprised, Paul takes the miniature pad, nodding, and waits till she was stepped away before walking over toward one of the tables and taking a seat.

On the mirror wall, Paul_Nighman's reflection morphs into an unrecognizable Ewok for a while.

The movement of patrons in the casino is depicted in the large mirror as trailing faint auras of color.

Ariana steps into the entry way from the northern concourse. Ariana has arrived.

Greeting the bouncers with amity and by name, Ariana steps through the throngs of patrons milling near the entrance to find an empty space in which to stand, her attire suggesting she is here for the evening.

Sitting at a rather quiet table, the Corellian in glancing at a small datapad that was just brought to him by a waitress. Clearly he does not seem terribly pleased by the message scrolled across it's surface. He reads it again carefully before hitting the erase control and rising up. Striding to the bar, he drops it off as requested, his eyes meeting that of the tender. The communication is clear - Another drink? No thank you, I've already reached my limit like I've said before. The Corellian turns, smiling a touch wryly despite the news.

"Brandin, might I get a Corellian brandy?" Ariana requests of a passing server, who, dazzling smile intact, scurries off to comply. After watching his departure, the small blonde crosses the dance floor toward the less active sections of the casino, pausing to greet a familiar patron or two along the way.

The reflection of Ariana in the mirror suddenly pixelizes and flies apart, only to reassemble again.

"Ah, -there- she is Mr. Nighman," the tender notes smugly, his honest reputation once again intact. Turning curiously, Paul's eyes rove only to stop and stare. "Yes ... yes she certainly is there ... many thanks." Pushing away from the bar, Paul slips one hand inside a pocket, strolling casually in the exquisite blonde's direction.

Ariana's lips curve upward in a smile at Paul's approach. How could she resist smiling at the amiable Corellian? "Why...what a surprise," she drawls, offering her right hand to Paul when he is within a proper distance. "Good evening, Dr. Nighman."

Taking the proffered hand, Paul's head dips elegantly to grace her knuckles with a kiss. "Ariana ... so formal? You look, as always, enchanting." Rising up, golden green eyes rove over her for a moment, taking in the small details with care. "I hope you had a good trip?"

Ariana, pausing at the compliment, schools herself not to blush while she murmurs, "It was pleasant enough, Paul. I thought you'd left the system."

"I had," he confesses, "and I'm about to again ... some business that didn't work out as well as I had hoped." The waiter, Brandin, returns with the requested brandy. "Here you are Ms. Millikin," he warbles. Paul pauses momentarily to allow the interruption to come and, after a shake of his head at the questioning waiter's eyes, go.

In the mirror wall, a ghostly rancor plows -through- one of the sabacc tables, then blips out.

There are a few shrieks of surprise from patrons unfamiliar with the rancor selection of the mirror, followed by embarrassed laughter. Paul's gaze rises, one brow quirking, before returning to Ariana's face.

Ariana lifts the glass and its amber contents to her parted lips, watching Paul during the entire gesture. Once she has tasted the brandy and swallowed the initial sip, she again smiles at her companion and confesses, "It is good to see you."

"Good to be seen," he counters warmly, stepping slightly to one side and offering her the choice of moving on or taking his arm. "I thought I would miss you entirely actually ... came by the other night but Jace mentioned  that you were away." Something must strike the Corellian funny, because his eyes narrow slightly in amusement, his lips curling. "I'll be heading off tomorrow, so I thought I would try my luck tonight. The 'tender conned me into  three glasses, assuring me that you would be here tonight."

"He's compensated by the glass these days, I'll wager," Ariana says drolly while her free hand encircles Paul's arm. "Care to take a pitifully lonely Alderaanian to a table and reintroduce her to the niceties of civilization?"

Swanstee stops just outside the door to the casino, speaking quietly with the guard there. He smiles at her, nods, says a few quiet words, and lets her enter. She approaches the bar and orders up a supernova mist. After the drink arrives, she turns to survey the casino, her drink held loosely at her side.

It's a slightly indelicate snort that greets -that- commentary, but leading her over to a slightly secluded table, Paul draws back Ariana's chair for her and then seats himself. "So, you went off the yemensvelt then, eh?" he murmurs. Dropping a glance to her drink and then back to her features, Paul adds, "Did you just want a drink, or would some dinner be in order?"

Swanstee: This Twi'lek stands tall and proud, her shoulders squared and her back straight. Her eyes are bright and alert, with a defiant glint, and the set of her beautiful features, even when she laughs or smiles, shows a certain hardness - a hardness that only comes from one who is confident in one's own abilities.

She moves with a confident stride that some may find appealing, her hips swaying and her flowing head tails swinging from side to side behind her.

The clingy black dress she wears covers everything from her neck down, including her arms and hands, and tapers along her body to end at her unshod feet. A short black cape of fine silk-like material drapes from her shoulders, attached to both of her wrists where simple silver bands are worn. Matching bands, silver with black patterns, adorn her headtails.

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

=> 700 Standard Galactic Credits(#122D`W)

On the mirror wall, Ariana's reflection morphs into an unrecognizable figure in dark robes for a while.

"I'm feeling a little restless," Ariana murmurs, letting her gaze linger on Swanstee for the briefest of moments before again regarding the handsome Corellian, "so let's start with a drink. You look very good in green."

Clearly that catches the man somewhat by surprise, but a simple gracious nod, countered by a wry disbelieving smile, is his only reply to the compliment. "Restless? Then perhaps sitting is the last thing you want to do ... would you care to dance?"

After tossing back much of her drink, Ariana rises bare seconds after her backside had touched the chair. "A dance sounds splendid, Paul. Thank you."

Swanstee stays near the bar, her attention on Ariana and Paul for a few moments. After downing about half of her drink, she makes her way to the sabacc tables, to observe whatever games may be in progress.

Smiling, charmed and charming, the Corellian rises up as well to assist her from the chair and lead her to the dance floor. As the draw close, the musicians are gracious enough to finish their current number and start a new one. It's a jazzy piece, fast enough for flair, slow enough for subtly. Drawing the slim woman close, Paul moves confidently amongst the other dancers, smiling down at the woman in his arms. "I think Jace is confused by our relationship."

Ariana rests one hand on his broad shoulder, one hand within his far-larger hand, leaving her gaze upon the rugged lines of his visage. She moves contentedly, fluidly, within his arms, not bothering to dismiss the smile from her lips. "That makes two of us. What did he say?"

In the mirror wall, a ghostly rancor plows -through- one of the sabacc tables, then blips out.

Chuckling Paul turns Ari in a graceful spin before replying. "He implied that you liked me for reasons that he could not fathom." There is a small pause and a mischievous smile. "I told him that it was probably a momentary lack of good taste."

Ariana's head draws back, turtle-like, at this last bit. "Oh, stop. You're one of the most appealing men in the galaxy, or so says the legion of women who  follow you."

Looking behind him, almost a touch nervously, Paul breathes a soft sigh of relief at the lack of women, let alone a line of them. Turning back there is a small laugh as he notes to the woman in his arms, "You flatter me ... there  is no legion of women. You on the other hand, well, I've seen the looks and  some active following." One brow rises in challenge before he spins Ariana out, moving about her to catch the spin on the other end.

Ariana follows Paul's lead with practiced ease, leaving the impression she has danced before on this floor and with this partner. Once she has resumed a more subdued step with the Corellian she notes wryly, "That would be Jade  with the followers, my dear. And if I were to get any looks, Talon would make  certain people knew who held my chain." Unhappy, is she?

At one of the tables, the Twi'lek finds someone willing to let her in on a game of sabacc. She sits down at the table and takes on a serious expression as the cards are dealt.

In the mirror wall, a ghostly rancor plows -through- one of the sabacc tables, then blips out.

Frowning slightly at the choice of words, Paul shakes his head. "We've had this discussion before ... and you get -many- looks, though granted some of them  are not desired I'm sure." The number slows, shifts gears into a new piece. The hand at her hip shifts to the small of her back, unable to avoid brushing exposed flesh. "I don't see that Talon is ever -around- to swing about your chain. Perhaps you should have it removed?" he murmurs softly as the music calls for slow subtle steps and flowing figures.

Ariana's cheeks blossom into a brilliant pink and her gaze falls toward the floor. Head now bowed, her forehead touches his chest and remains resting there, lightly and lingeringly.

According to the mirror wall, Swanstee is suddenly dressed in last season's fashion.

Kaley steps into the entry way from the northern concourse. Kaley has arrived.

Sighing softly, the intake of breath causing Ariana's head to bob fractionally, Paul leans closer, speaking softly to the blonde in his arms. They continue to glide across the floor along with the sultry music wafting about them.

Lando steps quietly into the bar, the soft soles of his shoes making slight noises on the floor, though the sounds are covered by the din that makes up the atmosphere of the Keepon Casino. After stopping momentarily to check his ornate sidearm with the guards at the door, he beings moving slowly toward the sabacc tables, adjust the collar of his expensive looking shirt.

Kaley steps into the casino and stops at the door to speak with the bouncers. After a brief chat, she continues on her way through the area. Her heading seems to be the bar.

Paul_Nighman sighs, his head dropping fractionally to the blonde hair pressed against his chest. He mutters to Ariana, "... without... the... there should... in... relationship... smacks... possession and... unequal..."

Ariana senses Paul_Nighman sighs, his head dropping fractionally to the blonde hair pressed against his chest. "You can cut the chain without hurting the relationship ... there should be no -chains- in a relationship ... that smacks too much of possession and owner ship ... and unequal partners."

Swanstee is at one of the sabacc tables, a frown on her face as she loses yet another hand. Her frown lessens just slightly as she notices Lando enter. She stands, waving to him.

A spray of dim, tiny sparks races across the mirror wall's image, chasing each other to the other far side before disappearing.

Ariana initially has nothing to offer in response to Paul's suggestion, trying to concentrate on the dance rather than the topic at hand. Eventually she speaks, though like him her words are pitched low for privacy. She mutters to Paul_Nighman, "... doesn't... equal.... Maybe... he's... employer...  lover,... Everything.... I'm... I... on..."

You sense "Ariana initially has nothing to offer in response to Paul's suggestion, trying to concentrate on the dance rather than the topic  at hand. Eventually she speaks, though like him her words are pitched low for  privacy. "It doesn't feel equal. It doesn't. Maybe because he's my employer as well as my lover, but I do everything to appease him, Paul. Everything. I'm so afraid I'm going to lose him I hold on too tightly.""

Lando's slight, conservative smile begins to broaden as his gaze falls upon the black-clad Twi'lek, waving to him from the sabacc tables. He lengthens his stride slightly, bringing his pace from a lazy, slow amble to that of someone heading some place with a purpose. He stops in his tracks a moment, though, as he notices Paul and Ariana out of the corner of his eye, and catches a few words even over the noise and bustle of the casino.

Kaley leans up against the bar and orders her usual juice but this time in a to-go glass. She waits patiently for the glass then hands the barkeep a few credits before returning in the way she came in.

Kaley makes her way out of the Casino.

Kaley has left.

Paul_Nighman raising one hand to stroke through her hair compassionately, Paul draws her along the dance floor, the steps blissfully easy. He mutters to Ariana, "Then... yourself.... can't control someone else... you... unless  they... let you. And... who you... they'll... back... not."

Ariana senses Paul_Nighman raising one hand to stroke through her hair compassionately, Paul draws her along the dance floor, the steps blissfully easy. "Then loosen your grip ... be yourself. You can't control someone else ... you can't change what they do or how they feel unless they choose to let  you. And ... you can't choose who you love or whether they'll love you back  or not."

Swanstee smiles at Lando. "Those lessons didn't help much. Perhaps you were letting me win..." She muses for a moment. "Anyhow, it's good to see you again. I realized after I left yesterday that I never even asked you your  name. Mine's Swan." She offers her hand to the gambler, to shake in the human manner of greeting.

Ariana follows Paul's lead in the dance with absentminded perfection until the dark figure of the recently arrived gambler arrests her attention and she nearly stops altogether. Under his hands Paul can feel her muscles tighten.

Lando brings his attention away from the lithe, blonde form and her dance partner, but with a bit of an effort. He finishes crossing the rest of the way and takes the offered hand gingerly, raising it to his lips as he bows somewhat formally over it. In answer to her question, he says smoothly, "My name's Lando, madam. I must have lost my manners in a sabacc game."

The mirror's image acquires a faint reddish tinge, which fades after a few minutes.

Lando: Before you is a tall, dark-skinned male of average build, with short, wavy dark hair. Many would probably regard him as handsome. His brown eyes gaze coolly about the area with an air of friendliness and confidence, bordering on cockiness. A simple, short black mustache decorates a slightly angular face. Perhaps it is the set of his jaw, or perhaps it is the cocksure air about him, but he looks as if he usually would wear a knowing, maybe even arrogant, smile.

He is dressed in a very simple blue shirt and neatly pressed black pants, both of which appear to be of the finest quality. He wears a long flowing black cape about his shoulders, which glides smoothly behind him as he walks. Strapped to his waist and leg is a holster which holds a very elegant looking blaster. The butt of the blaster is all that is exposed outside the holster. Nova crystals are inlaid on either side of the butt, glittering proudly in light. On his left wrist is a large metallic chrono. It has several small buttons and appears to be more than a run of the mill chrono.

Holding Ariana close, Paul gazes down at her bowed head, his eyes a touch concerned. When her figure tenses under his hands, her motions falter, Paul's gaze shifts to follow the raise of hers to settle upon Lando Calrissian. Perhaps the musicians take pity on the couple, because the song ends, allowing Paul to stop moving for more compelling reasons than the roguish dark man. Gazing curiously as Lando turns away, Paul murmurs, "Problem?"

Karrde steps out of a spot of bad lighting by a wall panel. Karrde has arrived.

Swanstee smiles and takes her hand back. "You were gracious enough to let me win. After playing a few hands today, I'm finding it's a much more difficult  game to win than I believed yesterday... but that makes it all the more  interesting."

Jase steps out of a spot of bad lighting by a wall panel. Jase has arrived.

A spray of dim, tiny sparks races across the mirror wall's image, chasing each other to the other far side before disappearing.

Ariana withdraws from Paul's arms as the music and, consequentially, the dance come to a close. "No, no, everything's fine," she mutters, fingers running through her hair. "Thanks."

Karrde steps out of the far corner, straightening a cuff of his jacket. His expression is a near-serene deadpan as he looks briefly over the floor, the gaze settling a moment on the dance floor.

Jase walks through the main doors, pausing to speak to the doormen. He moves out of the way of entering and exiting patrons to scan the room. Several beings catch his eye. Stepping out across the floor, he sticks to the middle of the room, his eyes moving from person to person, as he attempts to gauge the currents in the room.

The mirror wall behind the sabacc tables reflects the room, then slyly adds about a half dozen black silhouettes of stormtroopers.

Still holding her close in his arms, Paul's gaze shifts from Ariana, to where Lando has vanished amidst the sabacc players, and back again. Frowning fractionally his hand rubs up and down her arm gently and he leans close to murmur something to her softly.

Lando says quietly to Swanstee, He mutters to Swanstee, "... didn't let... the..." He fastens the woman before him with a confident, charming smile, then casually lets his eyes move once more to Ariana and Paul. He doesn't seem to take any notice of the proprietor as he enters the establishment.

Swanstee deals herself out of the sabacc game she was so graciously losing, her attention all on the dark gambler before her. "I believe you owe me a drink, sir. It is my right to claim." She smiles, the words obviously banter.

Paul_Nighman touches her hair tenderly, uncertainly shaking his head. He mutters to Ariana, "Well,... probably don't want to... go... and... a...  have... things to... to?"

Ariana senses Paul_Nighman touches her hair tenderly, uncertainly shaking his head. "Well, I guess you probably don't want to dance anymore? Shall we go back and have a seat, or do you have ... other things to attend to?"

Karrde steps the few steps necessary to lean on the heels of his palms, murmuring to the bartender. There is no gesture, and few words are said, but a few glances are directed to Calrissian's general direction, and the dance floor.

Ariana shakes her head, not in a negative response but in uncertainty that her words reiterate. She mutters to Paul_Nighman, "... know... dancing's... would... better about... Paul.... over... just... Everyone... want. That..." A hint of bitterness creeps into her voice, despite her efforts to maintain an amenable expression.

You sense "Ariana shakes her head, not in a negative response but in uncertainty that her words reiterate. "I don't know that dancing's what would make me feel better about this, Paul. Don't worry over Lando. I was just surprised to see him here. Everyone in the casino but the one man I want. That figures." A hint of bitterness creeps into her voice, despite her efforts to maintain an amenable expression."

Jase continues across the floor. He sees Swanstee, but Calrissian is there so he gives the sabacc table a wide berth. Ariana seems to be in intimate conversation with Paul. Deciding to leave his sister alone, he continues to the bar where he waits for the bartender to finish his talk with Karrde so  that he can order his drink and say hello.

Lando offers his arm to Swanstee. He mutters to Swanstee, "... course, my dear... I... to deny you what... rightfully..." The tone in his voice is playful, as is his smile and the look in his eyes.

Paul_Nighman cocks his head to one side thoughtfully. The music starts up again, soothing and sweet, a more traditional waltz. Paul says nothing, though clearly her words strike him, empathy filling his gaze. He holds his hands out in invitation to dance should she care to accept the offer. He mutters to Ariana, "... be... if... would... the evening with... way that  you... drinking,... your choice."

Ariana senses Paul_Nighman cocks his head to one side thoughtfully. The music starts up again, soothing and sweet, a more traditional waltz. Paul says nothing, though clearly her words strike him, empathy filling his gaze. He holds his hands out in invitation to dance should she care to accept the offer. "Well, I would be honored if you would spend the evening with me then, any way that you like ... dancing, drinking, dinner ... your choice."

The reflection of Ariana in the mirror suddenly pixelizes and flies apart, only to reassemble again.

Karrde picks Lando's profile out of the gamblers and straightens, thoughtfulness seeping over his expression as he starts through the scattered crowds for the tables, one hand slipping into a trouser pocket.

Swanstee lets Calrissian escort her to the bar.

Jase watches Karrde leave the bar. A thoughtful almost worried expression clouds his face. He forgets his drink and keeps his eye on the businessman instead. A quick glance toward the dance floor confirms that Ariana does not yet know of his presence. The worry deepens.

Ariana essays a smile, comes up with something half-hearted, and speaks with a lackluster hollowness to each word. She mutters to Paul_Nighman, "I'm sorry... It isn't... recent Imperial aggression,... been doing that...  help... all... nights on... what? Commerce? Please."

You sense "Ariana essays a smile, comes up with something half-hearted, and speaks with a lackluster hollowness to each word. "I'm  sorry for lacking enthusiasm, Paul. It isn't you. It's just...I'm distracted by everything. The recent Imperial aggression, all the work I've been doing that doesn't do anything to help the Republic...spending all these nights on a ship for what? Commerce? Please.""

Letting his hand settle on the soft one on his arm, Lando begins leading Swanstee toward the bar, taking them in the direction of the dance floor. He pauses at the edge of the floor, still unaware of Karrde's presence, but casually aware of Ariana's. "Perhaps I can persuade you to, madam? I would be most honored if you would."

Swanstee smiles. She mutters to Lando, " Why not? ... And... exchange, perhaps... more lessons at sabacc? "

Paul_Nighman takes one of Ariana's delicate hands, drawing her quietly away from the dance floor and back toward the secluded table that had briefly occupied earlier this evening. He mutters to Ariana, "No need to.... I... happy, and that seems more... not. I don't... like the... can't...  anything... it usually... that... need... or... more..."

Ariana senses Paul_Nighman takes one of Ariana's delicate hands, drawing her quietly away from the dance floor and back toward the secluded table that had briefly occupied earlier this evening. "No need to apologize .... I just hate to see you unhappy, and that seems more often the state you're in than not. I don't much like the fact that I can't do anything about it usually ... but I guess that office belongs to another gentleman. What does the Republic need help with? Sullust was retaken ... or is it more a question of some-one-?"

Karrde diverts, moving obliquely now, easily through his own earnings milling around him, blue eyes trained on Calrissian for the moment. His hand leaves his jacket pocket, with a slim rectangle that shimmers as it catches light. His course takes him to a corner of the ebon dancing field, near the door.

Ariana allows herself to be led toward the table, though melancholia dogs her steps. As they approach the table, she confesses, "I know. But that's not his fault."

Jase's eyes leave Karrde and focus on the couple entering the dance floor. The worry on his face turns to irritation. Turning abruptly, he demands something of the bartender. From the expression on the face of the man behind the bar either the order or the tone of voice surprises him. The drink that is presented to Jase is taken with the barest of nods. He takes a healthy drink before turning back to the room.

Chuckling softly and realizing that his presence is of no consequence one way or the other, Paul draws back her chair for her, signaling for a waiter. "What's not his fault ... the fact that he's the only one who can make you happy, or that he's rarely here?"

Ariana answers blandly, "Oh, others make me happy. I just don't want to sound like a doting, lovestruck twit. I chose this life. I should enjoy it."

Karrde settles at the corner of the dance floor, both bouncers giving him discretely odd looks, but only briefly. The tall, goatee'd man palms the item he's freed from his pocket, and watches Calrissian with the female a moment, before glancing calmly over the rest of the room.

Lando nods to Swanstee, then glances toward the musicians a moment. His attention continues to move, slipping to the bar where he notices an upset Millikin, then finally toward the door, stopping on the slim form of Talon Karrde. Again, he pauses a moment to observe the man, before turning back to the woman on his arm, giving her a warm smile. In time with the music, he begins to step further into the dance floor, leading Swan with gentle firmness.

Karrde: He is a slender human male, somewhat tall, with an indifferent, sardonic manner. He has short, dark hair, a neatly trimmed goatee and a thin face which would be considered cunning if the expression weren't so calm, although the mild blue eyes do have a certain intent scrutiny. His clothing is finely cut, tailored well to his tall, thin frame; a charcoal suit of good quality, with a snow-white dress shirt underneath. Together with his usual manner, one might assume he was comfortable in board rooms as well as dark alleys.

Jase divides his attention between his sister and Paul, Swanstee and Calrissian and Karrde. The rest of the casino seems to be taking care of itself. He moves to the edge of the dance floor nearest the bar where he leans against the wall and sips his drink

Various reflections of beings in the room are suddenly outlined in multicolored sparks on the Wall.

Swanstee allows herself to be led onto the floor, obviously no stranger to dancing. She mutters to Lando, "... although... quite..." She looks over to see who Lando was eyeballing, and catches sight of Jase for the first time. "," she says. She gives a little wave and smile to Jase as she allows Calrissian to lead her in the dance.

Seating himself, Paul takes a menu from the waiter graciously, ordering both of them a Corellian brandy before offering a menu to Ariana. "You've probably memorized this by now ... you should eat something." He opens his own, scanning it curiously, leaning a hand on the table. Glancing up he reaches across the table to take one of Ariana's hands in his own. "You should ... and you're free to make any choice you want to. If I thought it would make  you happy, I'd sweep you up and away to someplace fanciful and new." The smile is bright, but there is the spark of sincerity there, as well as the knowledge that she would never accept.

Karrde's almost bland expression settles on Paul Nighman, and his expression hardly changes. Then Ariana, and the gaze fixes there. He leans an elbow on a bit of wall trim, whatever in his hand hidden by his hand still.

Jase returns Swanstee's smile with a cold smile of his own. The steel gray eyes fix on the dark gambler. His lips can be seen to move, but there is no one close enough to hear the words.

"Someplace fanciful and new where I could enjoy the company of your other female admirers?" Ariana says dryly, giving the menu a brief once-over once she has taken it from Paul. Nothing apparently appeals to her this night, but, as she tosses the menu onto the table, she mumbles, "Oh, mixed Calamari greens. Why not."

Lando continues to move with natural grace with Swanstee, the expression on his face one of appreciation at finding such a good dance partner. Spinning her about easily, and turning around the dance floor in time with the music, Lando lets his gaze move around the room, taking in the various parties, but mostly his brown eyes settle on Ariana and Paul, and Jase, fuming at the bar. He mutters to Swanstee, "Not... This... Sabacc,... are,..."

"And where I can watch the men swarm you in droves," the Corellian counters without malice. "No, I was thinking of someplace a little more exotic and unusual than that ... where men are of little importance and women are  considered the next thing to the goddess incarnate." The waiter returns, allowing Paul to place Ariana's order as well as his own, a bowl of Salack chowder and bread. The waiter smiles pleasantly, taking the order and leaving the drinks.

Swanstee grins at Lando, then laughs aloud. "You taught me enough about sabacc to know that the cards can change at any time." She looks over her shoulder as she dances, toward Jase once more. She gives him a little pouting smile. "My friend is unhappy Lando, and as much as I hate to end a dance early, I should talk with him. Would you like to join me?"

Ariana eyes Paul mistrustfully, echoing, "Goddess incarnate? What, Jade'll be there? I know you can't mean me. And honestly, I'm not interested in  platitudes and flattery. What about that red-haired friend of yours, Shenner?  Or Winter? I heard you two kept company for a while. Who hasn't swooned your  way, hmm? I'd be lost in the stampede."

Karrde leans just slightly, and murmurs to the bouncer nearest him. Franz looks a little surprised, and grins, as if seeing a joke. His employer continues to look at him, and the man's grin quickly fades into suppressed humor as he  hands his primary weapon off to his counterpart and starts across the casino floor on an intercept course with the departing waiter.

Eyeing Ariana for a moment, Paul shifts, rising from the table and takes her hand to lay a kiss upon it's surface. "Why don't you save the anger for the person you mean to direct it at, hmmmmm? I'll make things easy for you and  remove myself as the target. Then when you next see Karrde, you can give him  your little diatribes."

Lando ends his part of the dance by stepping slightly away from his graceful partner, so as to bow formally to her. As he straightens, he says, "Actually, I think I'll leave you to speak with your friend alone. I wouldn't want to be  any sort of intrusion." After shooting a quick glance to Jase, Lando turns to face the direction Karrde's in, letting his smile linger on Swan before she turns away.

Ariana, flushing red, gets to her feet and stammers an answer. She mutters to Paul_Nighman, "... don't.... been... with... both... all sorts... Is it so...  who'll tell... he loves... even... on... weeks.... who... his business or..."

You sense "Ariana, flushing red, gets to her feet and stammers an answer. "Paul, don't. We've been through this before. I've been through it with Lando, too, You both have all sorts of women panting after you. Is it so hard to understand I just want someone who'll tell me now and again he loves me? I haven't even laid eyes on him in a few weeks. Sometimes I wonder who his love really is: his business or me.""

Jase pulls his eyes from the dancing couple and focuses for a moment on the pair on the dining dais. He does not notice the dance end. A frown creases his forehead as he sees a bit of turbulence between Ariana and her escort.

Karrde has turned his attention back to Lando, mostly, and watches him blandly. The bouncer, Franz, reaches the waiter, and after a few words, they switch places, the bouncer doning the nice, simple apron while the waiter moves quickly to take up the blaster at the door. Franz the waiter snags a clean napkin or two and starts back toward Ariana and Paul's table.

Swanstee approaches Jase, a mock-frown upon her face. "You don't look very happy," she says. "You must need more to drink." Her expression changes, and she tries turning a smile on him. "Whaddya say, huh? Relax."

Sighing softly, Paul lays a hand on Ariana's shoulder, catching her gaze intently. "I'm not the man you love .... and I'm not trying to be. I do not have women panting all over me .... and it's not hard to understand that you  want some who will tell you he loves you. But that isn't me .... because of  timing or fate or luck, or whatever. I came here because despite all the  fights we always end up having, I -like- you ... I -care- about you, and I  wish that you were happy for a change. I hope that someday you'll know which  he loves more, and I hope that for your sake it's you."

Oblivious to the interactions of the waiter and the heavy, Lando begins walking slowly across the room toward the proprietor, meeting the bland gaze with a neutral look of his own. He says as he stops a few feet from the man, "Good evening, Karrde."

On the mirror wall, Swanstee's reflection morphs into an unrecognizable Wookiee for a while.

Jase glares over her shoulder at the departing dance partner. "I'm on duty. I don't drink on duty." Even his words have a layer of ice on them.

Karrde gives Calrissian a warm smile as the man stops before him; his blue eyes, however, are grave. Franz the waiter reaches Nighman and stops just behind him, to the right, as he learned in waitering school right after heavy arms academy. "Evening, Calrissian. I'm glad to see you again, and enjoying yourself, no less."

Ariana sinks into her chair, face in her hands as she murmurs an apology to the scholarly Corellian. When she sits back, her face is shadowed such that only Paul can see her expression. She mutters to Paul_Nighman, "... wish,... I... Karrde,... Sometimes... regret... me... made... all I'll be... and... never  will.... as... has..."

You sense "Ariana sinks into her chair, face in her hands as she murmurs an apology to the scholarly Corellian. When she sits back, her face  is shadowed such that only Paul can see her expression. "I wish, before I was committed to Karrde, that we'd made love. Sometimes I think the regret will drive me insane. Yes, I've made my choice. Yes, he wants me. But...is this all I'll be the rest of my life? He talks of retirement and he never will. Never. And as long as he has his work I'll have a rival.""

Swanstee frowns. "Ah, well then." She waits for a moment, then turns to follow Jase's stare. "Are we still on for dinner?" she asks, her tone businesslike and flat, but not necessarily cold. "Your sister seems... occupied. Perhaps tonight is not the best time for that meeting."

"It's hard not for me to enjoy myself, and with such lovely company this evening," Lando says, turning his gaze in the direction of the bar, though anyone in that direction would be able to see his eyes move momentarily toward the table containing Ariana and Paul. As he turns back to Karrde, his smile is warm and friendly, as is his voice as he says, "You've outdone yourself in maintaining this establishment."

Paul_Nighman settles himself slowly to his seat again, taking up his glass which he was prepared to abandon and taking a sip. Hazel eyes flicker over her features for awhile before he leans forward. He mutters to Ariana, "... shouldn't regret... love... then... would have... been passion... us...  which... all well and good,... your... a rival... your life,... be... that...  -all- that... make... -life-, make... partner. Much healthier,..."

Ariana senses Paul_Nighman settles himself slowly to his seat again, taking up his glass which he was prepared to abandon and taking a sip. Hazel eyes flicker over her features for awhile before he leans forward. "You shouldn't regret it .... if you love Karrde so much, then it would have just been passion between us ... which is all well and good, but clearly not what you want. If Karrde is your life, then yes, you may very well have a rival for the rest of your life, and this may be all that you are. But it is not -all- that you are. Don't make the man you love your -life-, make him your partner. Much healthier, and less competition that way."

Karrde chuckles, eyes still on Calrissian, wary now, as if not sure if the man may explode into violence in the next second, or hug him. "Yes, I've been quite pleased with the trial run in this business." His hand comes up, the hidden item sliding out to be offered, glittering side up, to Calrissian. Wordlessly.

Jase shrugs. "I haven't talked to Ariana since she got back so I don't know if tonight is good or bad. Let me take a raincheck on the dinner. I'm not  hungry." His eyes slip back to look at the female before him. "You look nice, very nice. I know Calrissian thought so."

Swanstee reaches over to touch Jase's arm. "Do you think so? I didn't really notice. He's teaching me the finer points of sabacc. Seems a pretty competent  player, from what I can tell." She sighs. "No food, no drink..." and she looks to the mirror. "... and just look how terrible you dress. You're no fun tonight at all." She smiles. "But that's okay. At least you're honest."

Ariana gives her head a firm toss, anger underscoring the gesture. She mutters to Paul_Nighman, "... crawl... He... I... a... wish our... Since he's gotten... And... have to... him for... _can't_... subdued. Do... know how  demeaning... you..."

You sense "Ariana gives her head a firm toss, anger underscoring the gesture. "I don't want to feel needy. I don't want to have to crawl to him for attention. He has a separate life. I have a separate life. I just wish our time weren't so damned separate. Since he's gotten Bespin he's never here. And by the Maker, Paul, I hate feeling like I have to beg him for attention and feel I _can't_ because he's so subdued. Do you know how demeaning that is? Do you know how useless I feel?? I hate my life right now.""

The bouncer/waiter just stands next to Nighman, properly. The napkins even drape well over his muscled forearm.

Lando's eyes move to the offered item before he accepts it. He brings it closer to his face to examine it more carefully a moment, through squinted eyes. Recognizing it then, he flips it over to examine the other side, before sliding the item into a pocket within the folds of his cloak. The smile on the gambler's face remains, but the look in those brown eyes instantly becomes frosty. A touch of the ice enters his voice as he says, "Moving up in the world, aren't you? I suppose I misjudged you, Karrde. You've managed to  pull off a few deals lesser businessmen could never have arranged."

Looking up at the waiter, Paul frowns slightly. The outfit is right, but the man behind it is not. And of course, the fact that Paul passed him his weapon earlier this evening doesn't help in the matter of discretion. Blinking calmly he inquires, "Is there a problem?" His hand shifts on the table, taking up Ariana's with a squeeze to let her know that it's okay ... and that he wants to talk to her more.

"Honest?" Jase looks at Swanstee with a dark, crooked smile. "What is that supposed to mean? And, by the way, Calrissian is more than competent at  sabacc. He's one of the best."

Karrde murmurs his reply, evenly calm, "You of all people should know that sliding down is easy, it's the climb -out- that puts the most dirt beneath  your fingernails." He lifts his chin slightly, watching the other. "You ran her well. Even under the Imperial mismanagement, I see that."

Her steel-blue eyes following Paul's upward gaze until it lands on the bouncer, the diminutive blonde double-blinks, then, chagrined, hisses, "Yes, is there something wrong?"

Swanstee shrugs at Jase. "He didn't get to be the best by telling the truth all the time, I believe. I think you're honest, at least with yourself. Not  treating the world like some giant game of chance, waiting for the cards to  change right in your hands. Unlike our gambler friend. He seems to live on  the edge, all the time."

The waiter/bouncer smiles grimly, obviously something meant to be reassuring. "No, gent, ladiee. More wine?" His small eyes fix on Nighman's face, and his smile starts looking like his teeth should start cracking like knuckles.

The sabacc-side wall seems to be reflecting the room in a horizontally flipped image.

Raising one brow, Paul simply murmurs, "We're drinking brandy thank you .... anything else?" He silently starts counting to himself, wondering if the hulking brute was sent to hassle him, hover over their table, or simply hack him into bits.

Realization dawns on Ariana's features, and, mumbling her brother's name, she casts her gaze about the casino with the intent of spotting her overprotective sibling. When her eyes catch not only Jase but Lando's conversational partner, her glass slips from her fingers to bounce noiselessly on the Keepon's fine carpeting.

The coldness in Lando's eyes diminishes into something more of a mild irritation, like the look of a man trying to ignore a nagging headache. His smile diminishes as well. He says, quietly, "I'm sure you'll manage it with ease and finesse. I'll not ask what sort of price you must have paid for this  new venture."

The bouncer's grin widens (making room for limbs or just to show his teeth strength). "Very good sir." He doesn't move, his big arm crooked just -so- with its napkins.

Rhiannon enters the casino and takes a moment to look about the room. She offers a smile and a nod to people she knows as she makes her way to the bar. She orders a drink and then turns around to face the room. She casually leans one elbow against the bar as she takes a sip of her drink.

Jase nods. "I'm an honest man who works for an honest man. Thank you." He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Since we're talking about honesty, let me tell you something. I don't like or trust Lando Calrissian. What's he  doing here?"

"Teaching me sabacc," is all Swanstee has in reply to Jase's question. "I met him only last night, while I was waiting here, hoping you'd show up." Her voice lowers. "You seem to know him pretty well."

Sighing, Paul turns to Ariana as the glass slips from her hand, his gaze following the line of hers to the inevitable source of their ham handed hack. "Ah," he simply murmurs. Turning back to the hulking form, Paul's brow rises again. "So tell me, you here to keep us company, keep us here, or keep us from talking?" The Corellian tactfully does not suggest any of the breaking limb options that have occurred to him.

Karrde's smile slips at a corner, and he admits easily, "A rather sizable loan, I admit. The payback period was vague." He pauses, watching the other thoughtfully. "We'll manage." He watches Calrissian's face as if reading tea leaves off his skin.

Dane_Noth steps into the entry way from the northern concourse. Dane_Noth has arrived.

The bouncer gives Nighman another grin. "I'm here for the messes," he answers with rumbling cheerfulness.

Ariana ignores the fallen glass while forcing her focus away from Karrde and onto the bouncer. "Don't you _dare_."

Offering a bright smile in return, Paul points out the drink glass on the floor. "Excellent ... there's the mess right there on the floor, which is undoubtedly why you have those napkins I'm sure ... better hurry or it will  leave a stain."

A line of Twi'lek chorus girls is reflected in the wall, running through the room.

Dane_Noth stops near the bouncer, his gaze reaching across the bar to fix on Karrde for a moment. The impenetrable visor then fixes on the bouncer, "I need to speak with some briefly..can I pass?"

The bouncer returns Ariana's gaze silently. The bouncers at the door look the man over slowly and nod.

Lando, absorbed in the conversation with Karrde, keeps his gaze on the goatee'd figure and remains unaware of anything else going on in the room, until Ariana's intense voice cuts through some of the chatter and his thoughts. He glances back toward the table containing Ariana and Paul, long enough to  watch the exchange between the Corellian and the glorified thug, before turning back to Karrde and saying, "I'm sure you will manage."

Rising up, Paul simply offers Ariana his hand. "We can always leave ... which I suppose would be preferable to being thrown out?"

Karrde's smile flickers at the statement from Calrissian and he nods, gaze also going to the table, unconcerned. "Time will tell."

The bouncer/waiter replies with a rumble, "Lady's choice." He seems to grow a bit formal, or gruff.

"I know him well enough." Jase's gaze goes to the door and the armored figure there. "Excuse me." He speaks into his comlink briefly and seems confused but satisfied by the reply he receives.

"Not a word to him, Franz," Ariana snarls, despite the firm knowledge of who really calls the shots around here with the employees. "I mean that. It's neither his concern nor yours. Did he send you over?"

Dane_Noth walks casually across the room towards the table Karrde is sitting at, his head occasionally panning to return the look of a curious patron of the casino.

Franz stands as silent as a wall, his gaze somewhere beyond Nighman's shoulder.

Swanstee's gaze remains on Lando and the man he's conversing with. After Jase receives word back on his comlink, she poses a question to him. "Who is that man he's speaking with? Perhaps he bears watching as well? He seems...  important. At least, from what I can tell, it seems to me that he at least  *thinks* he's important."

Lando sees the armored figure out of the corner of his eye, and loses some of his facial control a moment as he turns his head quickly in the direction of  the Mandalorian, his memory immediately regurgitating the image of Boba Fett in his mind, and the bitter deals that were bargained in the presence of that armored thug. The moment passes, though, as the gambler focuses his will on straightening his features once more, turning back to Karrde and saying, "Yes, time will tell. I hope you won't be dismayed if I fail to attend the opening of your new venture. The neighborhood is too hostile for my tastes."

Jase puts his comlink up and looks at Swanstee with astonishment. After a brief pause, he breaks out into hearty laughter.

On the mirror wall, Lando's reflection morphs into an unrecognizable Ewok for a while.

Swanstee seems a little confused, but smiles nonetheless. "I figured I could cheer you up. I just didn't realize it would be through asking such a simple  question. What's so funny?"

Anger supplants the melancholia that had earlier seized Ariana, thanks in large to the impassive expression from the bouncer-cum-waiter. "Right. Well, tell him what you want to. I need some fresh air." Her words and posture suggest preparation for departure.

Dane_Noth makes his way across the room towards Karrde's position, his gaze fixing on Paul for a moment as if he's trying to get the doctor's attention..as he draws nearer to Karrde he stops trying, resigned to talk to  the man at a later time.

Karrde can't help but notice the armored figure approach, and he gazes at him, eyes narrowing slightly. He waits, tossing the conversational thermal detonator to the newcomer.

Rhiannon takes another sip of her drink as she lets her gaze slide over the other people standing at the bar. She notices Jase standing with Swanstee. She walks down to towards them, smiling in greeting. "Hello, Jase," she says as she steps up next to him.

Jase smiles. "Yes. He does bear watching, but I'll let Ariana handle that," he says cryptically. "In the meantime, let me apologize for my behavior. I -hate- that slimy gambler." He starts when Rhiannon speaks up so close to his elbow. "Oh. Rhiannon. Hello."

Taking Ariana's hand firmly in his own, Paul shifts around to the other side of the bouncer. "Fresh air sounds excellent," he murmurs, "I know just the spot." Escorting Ariana toward the door, the Corellian slows slightly as he recognizes the Mandalorian despite the armor covering his features. After the time spent together, he would recognize Dane anywhere.

The bouncer watches the pair move off, and looks across the room to his boss, deadpan.

Swanstee turns her head slightly to Rhiannon as she approaches. "Oh, hello," she says chiefly. Turning back to Jase, she smiles and one of her headtails snakes around to hang in front of her neck, over the other shoulder. "No need to apologize. I'll watch out for Lando from now on, if you think it's  appropriate."

As she and Paul approach the center of the room, Ariana gives Karrde and Jase each a defiant glare, seething still over the bouncer supplanting the waiter and the implications therein. _She_ knows full well how the people here are trained and is simultaneously infuriated and appalled at what might have been overheard. Still, acutely aware of the impression being made, she removes her hand from within Paul's to walk toward the exit sans escort.

The mirror's image acquires a faint reddish tinge, which fades after a few minutes.

Dane_Noth stops near Karrde, his armored head inclining slightly, "Mr. Karrde.." he then shifts his gaze to Lando, "Calrissian." His hand extends towards Karrde, "It's been sometime. I was hoping I could speak with you privately." Noth keeps his filtered voice low knowing Karrde's preference for the low key, it's multi-timbral growl not carrying far past the small distance between the three men.

The exit of his sister with Paul Nighman occupies Jase's attention for a moment, the women near him temporarily forgotten. A frown chases away his recently rediscovered smile. He glances at Karrde and sees that the armored man has approached the businessman. Slight gestures get the attention of the wait staff and bouncers. Additional coverage is soon on the armored man and his conversational companions.

Rhiannon looks from Jase to Swanstee, and raising one eyebrow she murmurs, "Pardon me, Jase. I did not mean to interrupt. Perhaps we can talk later when you have some free time." She nods to them both and starts to walk back down the bar towards a bartender.

Her hand drops away, but they continue to walk side by side, a companion rather than an escort. Paul's gaze touches nonchalantly on the pair of men with no discernible expression from across the room. He pauses only briefly to reclaim his weapons from their previous waiter, and then they step out as one.

Karrde gives Ariana a smile and nod that utterly ignores her look, and gives Nighman a neutral look before looking to the armored figure. "Mr. Noth, a pleasure." He takes the hand and shakes it firmly, adding, "Would it be too rude of me to offer a raincheck?"

If she had eyebrows, both would be raised right now. "Whoa," Swanstee says. "I believe that gentleman is a bit overdressed." Her eyes are on the armored figure as well.

Paul_Nighman makes his way out of the Casino. Paul_Nighman has left.

Temper lanced, Ariana hesitates as her eyes meet the pale blue ones of Karrde, then, shoulders slumping, she moves outside with steps that are just short of being hurried.

 Level 4 -Northern Concourse-(#5270RXntF)

You stand in the middle of a long corridor reaching from the center of the station out to the outer edge. Along the corridor a variety of businesses have shops open and flashy signs trying to draw you into their interiors.

OOC Note: Type INSPECT/CONTENTS to see what else is here.

-=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Paul_Nighman => Rykon => Nadezhda -=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-

Stepping out from the Casino, Paul keeps quiet, simply turning and heading toward the core along with the diminutive blonde at his side.

Paul_Nighman heads for the core of the station. Paul_Nighman has left.

Ariana follows Paul, though not entirely enthusiastically.

 Level 4 -Concourse-(#447RXntF)

The main concourse of the KOS is the busiest part of the station. Wider than the rest of the station, this level is nearly half a mile in diameter. The center of the concourse is domed upward, with the turbolift tube rising up through the center. Spacers, traders, technicians and guards of countless races bustle through the concourse.

Currently, sounds can be heard coming from the west, as if huge machinery was being brought to bare. An access panel leads off in that direction, and occasionally, crewmen, wearing anything from overalls to full vacuum suits, can be seen coming and going.

OOC Note: Type INSPECT/CONTENTS to see what else is here.

-=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Galactic Bank ATM(#613`Wz) -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Paul_Nighman => Kadgie => IGNews Terminal - KOS => Caspar News Service - Kichnar Edition => Mail Terminal: Kichnar -=-=-=-=-=<<Visible exits>>=-=-=-=-=- <HB> Holonet Booth leads to Holo Booth. <EN> Edgeward North leads to <KOS> Level 4 -Northern Concourse-. <ES> Edgeward South leads to <KOS> Level 4 -Southern Concourse-. <EE> Edgeward East leads to <KOS> Level 4 -Eastern Concourse-. <TL> TurboLift leads to <KOS> Turbolift.

Paul_Nighman glances from side to side as the pair make their way toward the turbolifts. His features are a little tight, the revealing thing about his inner thoughts. Eyes flickering uncertainly to the woman fuming at his side. He mutters to Ariana, "... of... in... in... if... alone..."

Ariana senses Paul_Nighman glances from side to side as the pair make their way toward the turbolifts. His features are a little tight, the revealing thing about his inner thoughts. Eyes flickering uncertainly to the woman fuming at his side. "I was thinking of someplace in particular ... unless you had something in mind yourself ... or if you'd rather be alone ..."

Ariana pauses, turning away from the Corellian to look anywhere other than at him. Her reactions imply that whatever happened before she left froze her blood entirely. She mutters to Paul_Nighman, "I... don't... just... myself..."

You sense "Ariana pauses, turning away from the Corellian to look anywhere other than at him. Her reactions imply that whatever happened before  she left froze her blood entirely. "I don't know. I don't care. I should just shoot myself and be done with it.""

Drawing his mouth to a thin somber line, the Corellian simply nods, pushing the button for the lift.

Paul_Nighman presses the elevator call button.

The <KOS> Turbolift arrives and the doors open.

You enter the Elevator. <KOS> Turbolift(#243RXntF)

The turbolift runs up the core of the station. It's large, cylindrical shape runs the entire axis of the station. A panel of buttons is positioned by the lift door, next to the list of floors they send the turbolift to.

-=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Paul_Nighman => Turbolift Control Panel -=-=-=-=-=<<Visible exits>>=-=-=-=-=- <O> Out leads to <KOS> Level 4 -Concourse-.

Ariana enters the Elevator.

Standing quietly as the doors slide open, Paul waits, knowing what he wants to do ... but not knowing if it's what Ari needs or wants. Despite his urge to just take her away, he holds still and waits for her to make the choice ...

Ariana's lips part as if to emit some wisdom about the evening, but, still too riled to speak, she finds a corner of the turbolift to study, arms crossed over her chest.

You leave the turbolift. <KOS> Level 5 -Transportation Hub-(#8893RXntF)

The central transportation hub is filled with a variety of travelers, pilots, aliens, businessmen and security personnel. As you pause to look around you see a variety of small blast doors leading to private hangars. A few of the larger doors lead to the hangars of the variety of shipping and passenger lines that service Kichnar. The largest door leads into the cavernous public hangar in which can be found ships from all over the galaxy.

Crewmen of all sorts move in and out of the area, going between the hangars with all manner of equipment and tools. Many panels in this area are open, with electricians working diligently on the rewiring as the new hangars in this area continue to come on line.

OOC Note: Type INSPECT/CONTENTS to see what else is here.

-=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Paul_Nighman(#3728POaACcmF) => NOTIFICATION(#5948n) -=-=-=-=-=<<Visible exits>>=-=-=-=-=- <PH> Public Hangar leads to <KOS> Level 5 -Public Hangar-. <GH> Griffon Hangar leads to <KOS> Level 5 -Griffon Hangar-. <NH> Nycad Hangar leads to <KOS> Level 5 -Nycad Hangar-. <TL> TurboLift leads to <KOS> Turbolift. <PRH> Private Hangar leads to <KOS> Level 5 -Private Hangar-.

Walking toward the hangar, it seems best to just be quiet ... least till they're somewhere where having a fit won't draw undue attention. The _Hawk's Wing_ will serve that purpose nicely ... and if fresh air is desired, then it's just a short drop down to Caspar and a particularly private and peaceful grove that the Corellian knows of.

You go through the airlock to the hangar. <KOS> Level 5 -Public Hangar-(#452RXtF)

The Kichnar Station landing pad is built into the fifth level of the station. Wedge-shaped, it takes up about a quarter of the largest level on the Kichnar Orbital Station. Various ship maintenance and repair equipment lines the walls. A set of hydrospanners lie errantly on the floor. A fusion generator supply tank stands at ready to fuel ships. An airlock leads to the transportation hub of the station.

Signs of construction can be seen all around the hangar, as workers continue to move bulkheads to finish the construction of this huge hangar. Portions of some of the walls are of different color, obviously moved from other sections of this space station. The repulsar fields used for the ship entry area are portable, temporary units, positioned at each side and being run manually by several crewman. The large, permanent unit can be seen being brought into line at the rear of the hangar, with a dozen other crewman in gray jumpsuits working diligently on that project. The whole hangar, while functional, is cramped with all the construction.

OOC Note: Type INSPECT/CONTENTS to see what else is here.

Ariana's steps drag as they enter the hanger proper and she spots the Wild Karrde...at which time she stops completely. A hand reaches out for Paul, groping until it locates his hand, and when he is found, she latches on tightly.

Squeezing that hand reassuringly, Paul turns her toward a smaller less impressive Ilyrian Gnat. "Come on," he murmurs softly, taking the last few steps needed to get them to the wing. He types in a few commands and the hatch opens up obligingly.

"And what?" Ariana is struggling, really, to maintain a semblance of control, though her hand trembles as if she is wracked by a fever. "And do what, Paul? Talk? Console each other for the absence of others? And _what_?"

Stopping, Paul turns to face Ariana, laying hands on her upper arms. "And whatever ... I figured someplace quiet and soundproof so you can get some of  this off your chest without the public eye on you all the time ... and after  that whatever you need. Time, talk, planning, confrontation. This isn't about  me. I don't need any consoling. This is about you."

Stepping back from Paul, looking abruptly less like the confident businesswoman she is attired to be, Ariana counters uncertainly, "I don't know what to say anymore. I don't know what to think and feel anymore. If I were a child I'd  run away from home." A glance at the Starry Ice hints that, perhaps, such a thought is running its course in her mind.

"Then take a shorter route and run away with me to Caspar ... or Calamari if you like. I would prefer to know you're safe and not alone ... and I think  more than anything you need time to think about things when you're less up in  the air. If you want to run away in the end, I won't be in your way." No pressure. It's clear from his words and the gentle tone of his voice, it's clear in his eyes that watch the conflicted emotions on Ariana's face.

Jade descends slowly from the ramp of one of the larger ships, her ever-present pack slung loosely over one shoulder. Her head swivels back and forth in an easy motion as she scans the hangar casually, reaching up to rest her hand against the ramp's hydraulics. Leaning there for a moment, she pauses, gazing at her surroundings.

Ariana's shoulders droop. "I'm trapped, Paul. I've mucked up my life until barely any choice remains. I'm miserable being on the fringe of his life. I'd  be miserable leaving him. I hate doing nothing but flashing my legs at  businessmen and hate the idea of not working for Talon, not being on that  fringe of his life. I'm the most freaking useless of females, and I trick  myself into thinking I do some good by doing Karrde's business deals and  sleeping with the boss. Just shoot me."

Reaching up to unlock the door again, Paul doesn't say a word, only presses a hand gently to Ariana's back, urging her inside.

After a few lazy moments, Mara releases the hydraulics pump, lowering herself to the hangar floor with a few long-legged steps. Once there, her attention turns coreward, her delicate hands reaching back to tie her crimson hair into a utilitarian ponytail. That is, until her crystalline eyes fall on a certain blonde and her companion. This time her expression doesn't change much; she merely nods and slows her pace enough to allow for a greeting if one is forthcoming. If not, it doesn't look like it will kill her.

Ariana spots Jade; how could the flare of golden red hair be missed when in such proximity? And speaking of flare, that's precisely what happens to her temper. "Oh, perfect. Even you've come to spy on me. He can't take time away from his busy schedule to talk to me, but by the Maker he can send every last  one of his flunkies!"

Glancing up in surprise and bafflement, Paul's eyes settle on Mara, and offering her an apologetic grimace, he places a hand on Ari's shoulder. "Easy easy ... Jade wasn't even around," he murmurs to the blond. His eyes focus on Jade then, nodding in greeting as he murmurs, "Good evening ... well it was.  Don't mind us ... things are a little, confused at the moment." Clearly the man could have been a diplomat.

Maybe it's a smirk that creeps onto Mara's face. In any case, it's certainly subtle. Her expression tonight seems to be stuck on smug, but she manages to be tactful herself...at least as far as Mara and Ariana are concerned. With a brief nod in Paul's direction, she focuses on the blonde again, murmuring smoothly, "Flunky? Is that what I am being called now?" Her lips curl up into a wicked grin. "Perhaps I'll have to ask Talon what /your/ title is now," she purrs, batting her eyelashes just slightly. "And believe me, I have better things to do than baby-sit you. If Karrde was ever stupid enough to ask me to  do such a thing, which he hasn't, I'd tell him so myself. So enjoy your mood,  but leave me out of it." The smirk has quite understandably faded by the end of her statement, and she turns to continue her trek coreward.

"Whore is the term you might be considering," Ariana suggests, not in the mood to dance around verbally. "Or concubine? That better? Perhaps floozie? And yes, since you have better things to do, though wandering around Kichnar  seems to be it, just...go. All right? Go. Just go."

Go ... going .... what a fine idea, and one Paul wishes to indulge in himself. Pulling on Ariana a touch more insistently, he murmurs softly, "Come on, it's not worth it ..." A frown lays upon his features as Ariana's loud voice and fancy appearance are more than just a little out of place and a lot interesting.

Jade doesn't respond to Ariana's comments except to chuckle under her breath, and slow her pace down fractionally just so she's around just that much longer to annoy the woman. Eventually however, her lithe frame disappears into a small crowd also heading coreward.

Jade walks out the airlock to the station. Jade has left.

Ariana stares after Jade, then, her temper fleeing, she whispers, "Maker, I hate my life," before following Paul's urging.

Paul_Nighman enters in a code and unlocks STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Quasar Bolt STARFIGHTER: SubPro Ilyrian Gnat -- Quasar Bolt(#4402Xez)

You enter the ship Main Ring -- Quasar Bolt(#6524RVat) This is the main area of the ship and obviously serves multiple purposes. The entrance is open and airy, with several couches and a table. It is designed to be an area for passengers and the occasional crew to lounge in. There is a computer terminal available in one corner. To the right, sectioned off slightly, is a kitchen area, well stocked with the latest in cooking equipment as well as a fine assortment of food. Off to the back of the entrance space is a walled off crew quarters section. To save space, the bunks are folded up into the wall space and can be pulled down at will. There is a storage unit available for personal belongings next to each bunk compartment. There is a door visible, leading off to the right next to the kitchen, but it is locked. -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Captain's Quarters(#6338en) -=-=-=-=-=<<Visible exits>>=-=-=-=-=- <OUT> leads to <KOS> Level 5 -Public Hangar-. <A>ft leads to Cargo Hold -- Quasar Bolt. <F>ore leads to Cockpit -- Quasar Bolt. Ariana enters Main Ring -- Quasar Bolt

Following her into "his" ship, Paul settles the blonde woman down upon one of the more comfortable couches, stroking her arm gently before rising to walk to the kitchen. To be safe, as he passes the hatch he palms the lock. There is the soft clink of glasses before he reappears, hunkering down next to Ariana and placing a glass in her hand. "Here ... drink."

Ariana obeys, and without complaint or fight. She doesn't seem concerned about what the glass contains and takes a good, healthy gulp.

It's Corellian brandy, and the good healthy gulp brings with it a good healthy bite. Frowning, Paul lays a hand against Ari's face, tilting it up a bit. "Easy .... I'm going to make you some food, alright? You need to eat something." His gaze drops to her dress ... exquisite, beautiful, and revealing ... and hardly comfortable. "How about a change of clothes? Something a little less constricting?"

"I can't eat. Just give me..." Ariana tosses back the rest of the brandy, coughs thricely, and continues in a hoarser voice, "another of these."

Rising up, Paul takes the glass from her slight grasp, refilling it and returning, this time with the bottle as well. What can one night of drunkenness hurt? She can't get off the ship, that's for sure. Dropping down again, Paul presses the glass into her hand, murmuring, "You're going to eat a little ... just some quick pasta. Tasty and timeless." Before she can refuse him again, Paul rises, dropping a quick kiss to her cheek before returning to the kitchen. There is the gentle, almost homey clatter of pans and dishes.

A second glass is hurriedly downed, the tumbler refilled as Ariana grits her teeth to restrain the paroxysm of coughs that threaten to come out thanks to the harsh liquid. Abruptly, as Paul putters about in the kitchen, she gets to her feet and reaches behind her for the gown's zipper. "Damn it, and damn him," she mumbles, fumbling all the while.

There is a brief pause as Paul peers over his shoulder. Striding over to a doorway, he palms it open, disappearing inside for a few moments, the light snapping on to reveal a private quarter. After a few minutes he re-emerges, walking toward Ariana with a number of things in his hands ... a large soft green robe with the words, "Grand Palanhi Hotel" embroidered upon it, a soft green shirt, and a pair of green sweats. Placing them down on the couch, he murmurs, "Feel free to wear any of this," rising up to make sure she can get out of the gown by herself.

The heavy *plop* of beaded gown pooling around the blonde's feet is proof enough that she can undress herself as yet. She kicks aside the expensive garment with disdain and lack of grace, nearly tumbling twice before succeeding in stepping out of the garment. Her fingers snatch up the robe as she says, thickly, "Thank you."

Watching her with warm eyes, Paul waits, making sure she is balanced and settled. If her near nakedness bothers the Corellian, he does an excellent job of hiding the fact. Instead, he leans down to retrieve the dress, taking it along with the unselected clothes. "You're welcome," he rasps deeply, and the clothes are removed from sight, tossed into his quarters on his way back to the kitchen. Once turned away, however, he takes a deep breath and lets it out ... slowly.

Ariana flops onto the couch again, nestled within the oversized and comfortable green robe that she uses more as a blanket than as an article of clothing. Before long she is working on the third shot of brandy and looking blurrier in her attention than earlier. One can only hope it leads to relaxation.

The pasta is fast - a simple dish of spiraled noodles, a light oil base, and a variety of savory additions like sundried tomatoes, artichokes, pesto, and spices. Bringing over a bowl for each of them Paul gently extricates the glass from Ari's hand, placing the bowl and a fork in them instead. He settles down across from her rather than sitting next to her. His eyes take in the strange picture before him ... her delicate figure swathed in his robe, the precious jewels sparkling out in ironic contrast at her wrists, throat, and ears. Paul swallows, even though he hasn't taken a bite yet. "Eat," he urges gently, taking a forkful from his own plate.

Ariana, contrary to her former declaration, samples, then eats voraciously. "This is good," she asserts between mouthfuls, oblivious or perhaps uncaring about any effect her appearance may be having on her host. "I'm impressed."

Inclining his head graciously, Paul replies warmly, "Thank you. It paid to learn to cook when I was a child .... " There is a small flare of pleasure as  it seems as if -finally- he has done something right. The fact that she is not only eating, but relishing the meal is reassuring in a small way. Going planetside seems out of the question now ... most likely she'll drink, eat, and fall asleep.

With the bowl mostly empty, Ariana sets it down and retrieves her glass, drinking in an incautiously deep manner. When she returns it to its resting place with an unsteady bang, she blinks, drinks in air this time rather than brandy, and confesses, "I think that's enough of that. I'll be doing something foolish soon if I'm not careful."

"Alright," Paul replies readily. He gathers up his bowl along with hers, removing both of the glasses and the remaining liquor. All of this is taken off to the kitchen, and musical clinking of these objects being washed and put away ringing out once again. Once finished, Paul returns, drying his hands on a towel which he casually flips over one shoulder. He walks softly, lest the woman have fallen asleep right there where he left her.

Ariana is not entirely drunk and, as such, is given more to brooding than to sleeping. Her feet are drawn up beside her on the couch, her pose half-reclining on her side; she seems resigned to spending the night here and is making herself as comfortable as passable. A hand thumps the couch beside her, perhaps an invitation to sit beside her.

Uncertain if that was in invitation or drunken daze, Paul hunkers down next to Ariana, reaching out with one hand to draw back a swath of hair that has settled over her eyes. "Hey you ... would you like something warm to drink? I can offer tea or coffee ... or cocoa?"

Her greyish blue eyes fix on the twinkling color of his twin irises, then she just shrugs. "Got something that'll mix well with cocoa?" she slurs. "Something that'll make me forget?"

"Whipped cream?" he adds hopefully, his hand stroking back her hair gently. Those golden green eyes are soft and comforting as he gazes upon her face with a bittersweet expression. "If I had something that made one forget, I'd be the richest man in the galaxy ... and have practically no past." Leaning forward he presses a tender light kiss to her brow. "Whipped cream," he asserts, "I'll be back in a second ... don't go."

Ariana sinks backward until she is practically horizontal, her blurry gaze upon the Gnat's ceiling. "As if I have anywhere else to go tonight," she mumbles to herself, bitter again. "Something can make me forget. Something has to. I can't handle this pain...where did the brandy go?"

Returning, the cocoa, laden with a little extra something, is handed to her as Paul reaches down, wrapping an arm about her and returning Ari to a vertical position. There is whipped cream on top. He settles himself on the couch next to her, wrapping the robe about here when it chooses to slip off, and letting her rest against the couch and himself. "You can handle this Ariana ... you're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"I'm tired of being strong," Ariana complains, allowing him to right her when she is so close to drowsing. "I don't have a purpose in my life. I was fooling myself into believing Talon needs me. He doesn't. You don't. Lando  doesn't. No one needs me. Even I don't need me. That's why I should just get  it over with and shut myself up." Pause, sip. "'S good. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he murmurs softly, arms wrapping about her form gently. "And that's banthashit ... you know that as well as I do, but I know that you  don't believe it now ... cause I didn't when I was where you are. Being  needed is a heavy thing ... it's much better to be wanted and cared for, and  I want you and care for you." There is a small pause before Paul clarifies, "And you know what I mean, I'm not talking about sex."

Those long-withheld and long-anticipated tears spill out onto the creaminess of Ariana's cheeks, giving her cause to turn away from her companion. "Why can't Talon say that to me? Why can't he just tell me he wants me and loves me? Why  do I have to be such a bloody idiot and fall in love with _him_? I've thrown  away my entire life for the wrong reasons, Paul, just to be wanted and I'm  not except by you, and _you_ are never here either!"

Taking the cup from her, Paul draws Ari against him despite her move to turn away. His hands stroke over her hair and back gently, his voice a warm rumble as he tries to give her the opportunity to release the grief, the anger, the tears. "I think you'd be surprised ... you have people about you who care for you, who want you. I'm not here because I don't live here ... I don't live  anywhere right now. But when I am here, I come to see you, just as I seek out  the other friends that I have on other planets." He rocks her ever so slightly as he soothes. "As for Karrde, I don't know ... he seems a very closed man, and I guess he simply can't show affection ..." Without realizing it, Paul recognizes that personality, a sharpness pricking his throat as he manages to murmurs, "It doesn't mean that he doesn't care ... that he doesn't  love you."

"I know," she admits miserably, not even attempting to staunch the flow of tears. "I know he loves me. He shows me with glances and touches when he's here. When he's not distracted. When he's not working or reading or drinking  or any of the other hundred things that take him from me, and damn it, Paul," sobs the blonde, "just sometimes I want him not to be distracted. I just want...I just want..." She snuffles loudly, aghast at the realization that comes next. "I just want to be special."

Hugging her close, Paul's eyes flicker closed at her positive comments about Karrde, relieved that they are there ... and that she knows it. "Have you told him that? Asked him to once in awhile make some special time just for  you?" Clearly the man is an entrepreneur, and while Paul used to find his life similarly consumed, that has changed over the last year ... has become less important.

Ariana snuggles against the warm side of the Corellian and answers quietly, with a bare hint at sleepiness that is on the fringe of her awareness, "No. He's too busy for me to ask him to give me some of his valuable time. He's an  important man, Paul...and I'm...I'm what Bec said I am. A gangster's moll.  His secretary, no better than that. I can't ask him to give me more time."

"That's terrible," Paul murmurs. "Really and appallingly terrible. Not only that you believe that crap, but that you allow it to be true." Tilting up her face, Paul brushes away tears and hair. "Maybe it would be better if you left him ... you're so consumed by this relationship that you sacrifice everything  else to it - your career, your spirit, your love, your energy. If you can't  even -ask- him, then he's not your lover, he's your owner, and you're his  slave."

If she were getting a hold of her emotions, this bald statement renews her writhing emotional agony. "I know," she wails, burying her face in her hands. "It's not his fault but mine. I let him put up the rules of the relationship. I'd do anything for him. Gods forgive me, I haven't even tried to help get  Luke back. What _am_ I anymore but a useless tart? Bec was right...Bec was  right."

Stroking her face gently, Paul murmurs, "I don't know who this Bec is, but calling yourself a useless tart is a cop out. It only gives you permission to  be one." Sighing, Paul's face drops to press against her head. "Perhaps what we need to do is give you something of a backbone ... something to invest  your energies into that doesn't have anything to do with Karrde. And maybe a  bit of time away from him that is not on -his- side of things would remind  him of your value." There is a strange little pause, Paul's head rising up slightly. "Ari ... tell what it is that you do ... or did?"

Ariana is just drunk enough and despairing just enough to blurt out, "I was in NRI, Paul. A spy. A valued member of the Republic. That's a laugh, isn't it?  Me, former NRI head, doing nothing more than spreading my thighs for a  criminal." Bitterness creeps into her voice again, sharper than before.

The Corellian winces, he can't help but do otherwise. It has nothing to do with what she has confessed to him so much as -how- she did so. Drawing her back slightly, Paul's hand brushes away the hair from her face thoughtfully. "You're no whore Ariana, don't paint a false picture." There is a quiet pause before Paul murmurs, "I have a proposition for you ... I would like to be my partner on something."

Ariana blinks, sobered more in the emotional manner than in the physiological way. "What sort of partner?" she asks hesitantly, distracted from her woes to wonder what the Corellian has in mind.

He trusts her ... is shows in his eyes. And in this instance, he has no right to share what he's about to share. But the one solution that's been eluding him all this time may very well be sitting right in front of him. "Have you ever heard of Darius Nul?"

"Darius Nul?" Ariana may have been drinking earlier, but she's not that sloshed. "No, I can't say I have. Why?" Again with the touch of mistrust, though curiosity dwells in her gaze.

"Darius Nul was a Corellian pirate back during the time of the Old Republic," he explains, his eyes glinting with interest as he contemplates the possibilities. "For many years he ran the most successful pirating ring, but when he retired, he hid it all away. For decades now, people have been  hunting for this supposed hold in vain. Until now." Drawing back a touch, Paul watches Ari's face for interest.

Ariana's eyes narrow, the volume of curiosity turned up a notch. "You're going to tell me," she drawls, dubious, "that you've found this stash of treasure?"

"No of course not," Paul sputters slightly, an almost sheepish grin coming over his features. "But we have the next best thing .... a map." Clearly recognizing the AdventureVid sound of it all, Paul coughs lightly, but the smile grows wider and more lopsided, if genuine. "Honest."

Ariana's eyebrow arches upward, doubt competing with curiosity. "A map. And why would an archaeologist with the map to a fabulous fortune need the help of a  smuggler's lover?"

"Xenoarcheaologist," he corrects lightly. "And I have no use for a smuggler's lover ... I have use for an ex-spy. We're still working on figuring out the  map, but one thing is clear ... we need to go to Athaniss ... that's where  everything starts. The trick is, we need to figure out a way to get through  Imperial space - and while I can think of several cover stories, I haven't  yet been able to figure out the details ... like falsified documents, getting  into the computer system so we -look- legitimate ... and what to do about the  physical checks and such." Hazel eyes rest on blue-grey ones meaningfully.

"I see." Ariana's mind already appears to be cranking on the minor details, her eyes unfocusing as her attention turns inward upon the possibilities. "And what would be my...reward for this assistance? Other than watching you find  your treasure."

"Like I said, you'd be a partner ... so it would be you, me, Sinjon Teague, and Nerik Dreshkar ... whatever we find we split equally. It could be quite a  fortune. If it's not, I'll compensate you for your time." This is business, even if it does involve a beautiful woman sitting half naked next to him. Paul cocks his head to one side. "That's why I was here ... checking out a potential submersible. I'm off to Calamari next."

Ariana starts. "Calamari?" She draws her borrowed robe more securely to her slender frame, shivering from the thought of going to that planet more than from any lack of warmth in the cabin. "I can't go there, Paul. Some members of the Republic think I'm a traitor."

Pausing thoughtfully for a moment, Paul nods. "That's fine ... we can work around that. I need to pick up Sinjon who I left there to come back to  Caspar. We can either zip in and pick him up, and you can just stay put on  the ship, or I can meet you elsewhere. I was planning on doing some shopping  there, but I didn't see anything that wowed me before ... so I'll probable  drop by Corellia to see if I can find a submersible there ... have more  contacts and friends there, and they make nice ships."

Ariana's smile becomes wistful as she ponders, "Corellia. I can't remember the last time I was there." She has not, perhaps, realized that she has been successfully diverted from her previously self-destructive line of thinking. Until, that is, she notes quietly, "I'll...I'll need to talk to Talon about this. If nothing else, I can't run off without him knowing where I'm going.  That's not fair to him."

The Corellian thinks it's perfectly fair ... but it's none of -his- affair. "If you feel you need to, that's fine. But Ari ... if you want to do this, don't  let him dissuade you. This is -your- life." Hazel eyes are bright with enthusiasm at the whole idea ... but there are lingering lines of worry as well. The Corellian knows all too well about the persuasive power of a loved one.

"He'll worry," she insists weakly, sinking backward against the sofa again. "I don't want him to worry, Paul. I don't want to hurt him. No matter what.  Never." Pressing a hand to her forehead, Ariana continues limply, "He'll worry if I don't come back tonight, and I'm half-drunk. I should go."

Pressing her back gently, Paul shakes his head. "I really don't think that's a good idea Ari. I would really rather you stay here ... you've had a hard  night, you're still not on the most stable of emotional ground, you're,  forgive me, a bit drunk, and I personally think he deserves to worry for a  change of pace." By the time Paul finishes that line, it's clear that whatever Ariana might think of Karrde, Paul holds the man to a certain degree of contempt. "If you're that concerned about it, I'll go tell him that you are safe and will see him tomorrow."

Ariana rests her head on the Corellian's broad shoulder, eyes twitching shut despite all efforts to the contrary. The food and alcohol have dulled her senses, lulling her into a drowse that she is powerless to forestall. "I'll be fine," she mumbles sleepily. "Just let me rest here a moment and I'll get dressed and go."

Watching her drowse despite herself, Paul slips his arms about her slim figure lifting her easily. The couch is nice for sitting, but not for sleeping. Carrying her to his quarters, Paul's voice drops to a more soothing tone. "Alright, you rest for a minute or two, then we'll clean you up and send you home." The door to his room opens silently, the bed large, soft, and inviting as he lays her down upon it.

You enter into the Captain's quarters. Captain's Quarters(#6338en) Unlike the rest of the ship, this room is extremely cluttered with books, papers, computer equipment, and many artifacts and pieces of art from different cultures. In the corner stands a Viol, and a guitar rests in it's case not too far from it. The rest of the ship is clean and efficient looking, but this room is somehow cozier for all it's mess and confusion. -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Paul_Nighman

Ariana murmurs a token term of resistance as she feels herself being lowered onto something soft and pliant and, most importantly, comfortable, and draws her robe about her like a blanket. A burbled word or two seems to indicate she finds the room cool and is searching for covering.

Blankets are raised and draped over her delicate form, the Corellian even going so far as to tuck her in snugly. Lowering down to the side of the bed on one knee, Paul raises a gentle hand to brush away a loose tendril of hair. "Sleep well Ari," he whispers softly, and leaning forward he brushes his lips against her brow and then rises up again. He grabs a spare pillow and blanket, heading toward the door. There are bunks in the main cabin that will suit him just fine. With a small tender smile and a spark of hope, Paul gazes back at the sleeping woman. "Sweet dreams."

In the morning she will likely be grateful for the distraction from her distress. In the morning she most probably will remember much of what happened and thank Paul for his selfless granting of time to ease her pain. For now, however, considering the man who is foremost in her thoughts and remembering her near-drunken, exhausted state, it is perhaps not unexpected that to Paul's quiet farewell she answers back, slurring, "Good night, Talon. Don't be up late," even as sleep claims her for its own.