A Memorable Evening

[Karl Valten]

Kuat Drive Yards had repeatedly denied the Inquisitoriate access to their shipyards for subprojects. Always slating that the volume of contract required all available construction slips in the aftermath of Endor or some excuse about maintenance or lack of staff or some other bull shit.

Naval commanders seemed to press their disdain for the Inquisition everywhere they travelled, none more-so than at their precious construct sites churning out warship after warship. Even cooperation from the government became minimal; amongst other minor insults from Kuati nobility.

“Just the ravings of Inquisitor Settra. You’ve met her no?” High Inquisitor Settra easily remained one of the more…aggressive…members of the Inquisitoriate when it came to politics; especially in her regards to her blatant opposition to the Telbun system. The Citadel had more than once received formal complaints…and promptly ignored them.

“I apologize, Mr. Quenn, but I must take my leave.”

Valten relaxed his grip on Yeart’s hand for just a moment before…

“…Oh, if I may, my office would very much like to get in contact with you regarding access to your shipyards for a small construction effort.”

Only the Moff could feel the sudden intense grip that began crushing his hand. And only he could see the demonic glint that flared in the pits of the Grand Inquisitors eyes.

[Rekoj]

"A dance? You know what they say about dancing Reeouurra? Dancing is the perpendicular expression of a horizontal desire." Rekoj arched an eyebrow trying to match the sly grin that had taken control of his lips.

The dance floor they were approaching looked big enough to accommodate the majority of the party if the mood chose to sway in that direction. So far it had not, as the dance floor was relatively empty with only a scattering of guests taking part in some gentle two-steps. How mild, there would need to be a definite change of tempo.

"Something spicy perhaps?"

Rekoj took Sasseeri's hand and lifted it above her head, influencing the half breed into a unexpected three hundred and sixty degree twirl. When the Vigo found herself facing the Inquisitor again her body was snapped firmly up against his own. His other hand felt its way to the small of Sasseeri's back and down.

"Sha'll we?" Rekoj gave an enticing squeeze.

[Sasseeri Reeouurra]

If there was one thing Mr. Rekoj was not, it was uptight. Sasseeri wasn't sure if she liked him or hated him. Pressed up against his body - his njice and fjirrrm body - she mewled a little into his ear.

"Well, lets gjive them somethjing to talk about." The words were barely past her lips when he had them whirling about the dance floor, turning what had been a rather sedate dance into a steamy and sensual number that drew the eyes of their fellow dancers.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Despite the climate scrubbers, it was almost a balmy evening on Coruscant. The velveted walk to the mansion was hushed, a distant throng of hangers-on stood whispering in the far background, craning to catch a glimpse of others to join the party.

Taataani Fai'sheea Igaarrai Meorrrei fanned herself with a delicate arrangement of feathers in a gilded fan as she waited for her young host to escort her inside. Paxan Nerya was relatively young for a baron of industry, having recently completed his buyout of SienarTek Interstellar: a starship conglomerate with numerous important clients, the Galactic Empire being among the foremost. He was in his mid-thirties and rather attractive. Still, he was barely a chew toy. Taataani, old enough to be the hyuu-mann's mother, had broken him within a week. Oh he was cute enough to hang on and could keep her interested for a while, but tonight he served only one purpose - to get the Meorrrei clan matriarch into the most exclusive den of power brokers in the galaxy.

"Don't fuss now, Paxan, you'rre jin good company."

She slipped her arm through his while grinning genially. Her tail, trimmed with a lacy accent to complement her flowery dress, pressed against the side of his leg, running up it just slightly enough to remind him that she could run it up much higher and really cause him to lose his composure.

Paxan nearly flushed, smiling tightly as they walked together.

"Taataani, of course. You're right. I really should put my best forward, yes?"

Taataani, doing her part to cajole him into his boldest, looked up at her temporary beau with blue eyes casting off moonlight slightly and a knowing smile on her lips.

"What betterr tjime than the prresent to put yourr name forrwarrd wjith so many people to hearr jit?"

Inwardly, she thought about setting Paxan in the first monied lap that would humor him. She already had an itinerary of important people to meet. She may not be building starships or massing armies of stormtroopers, but Mama Taa had spent a lifetime making money here and there. She was a Cizerack, after all. Capitalism was the most celebrated of self indulgences. She certainly knew more about it than Paxan, but no need to put the young man down. He was a doll, after all.

[Caran V'al Counis]

He felt Nya's grip on him and turned on her a curious and examining eye. Caran had his own suspicions about his 'partner', things she kept hidden under that armour of hers. It was a hope of his, a double purpose in having her dressed the way she was. For one, she had to look the part, that much was true. Without her armour to hide her, everything would likely be laid to bare. The widening of her eyes, the uneasiness of the line of her mouth, the pitch of her voice when she uttered his name at the mention of certain individuals...

It was time to deal with his mother, whether he liked it or not. Certainly, knowing her, she just might stand there all night waiting for his acknowledgment. He kept a hand over Aree, which was curled around the crook of his elbow and turned to face the insufferable woman.

"Good evening, mother." He emphasized the familial title, adding tension to the word as if to subtly indicate his displeasure at her need to come anywhere near him. It might have come across as childish, were he to have made more of a fuss. He glanced at Nya, still gauging her physical reactions to her recent realization or epiphany, which seemed to have elicited some stripe of fear. "Ny... ah, Aree, this is my mother, Cora. Cora, Aree Ankarta."

He smiled tightly at his mother, then moved the arm which Nya gripped to place a hand on the small of her back, slipping said hand around to the other side and giving her a gentle push forward.

"Why don't you two talk? Get to know one another. I've some business to attend to." And with that, he left them, making quickly for where he had spied his father, Getar, chatting with Estelle's 'bodyguard' and tossing glances in his direction. His intuition gave him a nagging thought that there was more going on in that relationship than they let on. Nothing intimate persay, but something didn't seem all that honest about the image her and this 'Kazaar' presented to the general public.

Not that he had a bone to pick. Estelle was more like a kid sister to him, if anything and she could take care of herself. It was his business, investigating things. He felt, however, that he could leave that one well enough alone. What he couldn't leave alone was the mystery of Nya Halcyon. There were things, quite obviously, that she was not telling him and he couldn't abide that fact for too much longer. It was in him to want to know. It was practically his job. He settled himself along in the company of Kazaar and Getar and kept one- nay, both eyes, swept to the direction of the two women from whom he had taken his leave to 'attend to business.

Business, indeed.

"Evening, father... Mr. Kazaar." He said, plucking a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and tipping his head to the both of them in greeting, then taking a sip. "I didn't get the memo à la 'shiver up my spine', but if I didn't know any better, I'd say you two were talking about me or something thereabouts. Care to indulge me?"

[Santiago Cristobal]

“Talk about making an entrance.” Said he as he turned his attention back to Mili and Cristobal.

"I agree." Cristobal nodded as Empress Tarkin made her way into the gathering. He noted ruefully how it appeared the more important one was, the more impressive the entrance had to be. So unlike the Alliance.

Santiago smiled a quick greeting to Estelle as she made her way back to the small group. "So Mister Lykaios. What brings you to the party?"

[Roger Phillips]

The attention had shifted. Good. Zai didn't want the attention on him, near him, or around him, in any way. Explanation was one of the kids strong points. Problem was, he wasn't having a strong night. First it took a while to get through the door. His outfit was right, his hair wasn't. Still, he managed. Especially since it wasn't good form to cause trouble with an Admiral.

Gutsy, really - acting as Admiral. Zai hadn't done it before. Normally he went under-cover on the lower totem pole, but that wouldn't work. This was a classy event - royal type. The only way in was the front door, no side entrance. So, he had to be a spectacle. All the assortments were adorn. Deck in his white, sleek outfit, and blessed with the authentic medals he stood stout and ready as if his fleet was behind him.

The only fault he had in his design was habit. Rarely did he slip, but the keen eye might have caught him sticking his hands in his pockets. Cool, collective, he didn't betray an Admiral's nature, but did put into question the typical uniform behavior. Someone so highly classed in the Imperial traditions, and Navy wouldn't let anything casual be found in their demeanor. They always walked around with a caribarator stuck in their load. That was their way, and hopefully no one noticed him swaying a bit off track.

So far, he was good. A few talks here, chit-chat there, and he was coasting. All he had to do was keep his ears prick. Any info on the whereabouts of these supposed "hoskey Jedi" zealots could put this down as a success. Matter fact, any progression would leave this risky move as a success. The time had come to go out on a limb. Nothing had been happening since his last operation, and Zai had to be drastic.

That was the only way anything would get done.

"Blumfruit please," he said, barely lifting his hand from his side. The help was off with the tray, walking about, handing out delicacies. Good stuff - he wouldn't mind taking a bite himself. Especially since it was on the house. As long as it wasn't on him, it would taste great...

"He'll be having that to go," Roger's voice added from behind Zai.

Two very big, burly, non-nonsense types flanked Roger as he confronted the interloper. "Sir, that Admiral's uniform just doesn't suit you. You're not on the guest list, no one here has been able to identify you, and while you seem to have successfully sidled in during the arrival of the Imperial entourage you are not with the Empire."

"That's preposterous." The other paused indignantly, but it was an act that Roger easily saw through. His voice did not carry with it any of the true propriety or command of an Imperial Admiral. It was instead the raw, slivered speech of someone whose voice had been cut to ribbons by fear.

In contrast, Roger stood calm, resolute, and charming even in the face of a problem. "Is it?" Roger gestured behind him. "Perhaps Empress Tarkin or Inquisitor Valten would care to vouch for you? They are here, and while I pride myself on knowing who's who of the Empire, I'm sure they'd be able to confirm anyone who had slipped through the cracks of my knowledge. As well, they would likely take a special interest in anyone posing as an Imperial Admiral."

The intruder did not answer, a boy in a uniform made of smoke and the hope of unasked questions. "I thought not," Roger cleared his throat. "If you would follow me please?" As they moved off, Roger tapped a few commands into a wrist unit.

The three escorts led Zai to a small room with a table and a few chairs. "Inside if you would sir," Roger directed.

The other willingly entered the room with a push from one of Roger's security agents. Roger pulled the door closed and the two stood on either side of it. After another half minute or so, Aurelias Kazaar came into view, accompanied by another of Roger's men. "Th' frack ya want Rog?" he asked, his lips clamped tightly around the cigar he'd been smoking outside. "Was chattin with ol' man Val Counis when ya boy asked me over."

"Mr Kazaar, thank you for coming," Roger began. "I have a gentleman inside this room who is quite definitely an intruder. I'd like to ask for your help in questioning him. If he doesn't respond to questions, that's fine - we don't need to know why someone would crash the societal party of the decade - but we'd like you to escort him out if he's uncooperative."

Kazaar's cigar shifted with a look of hesitant acceptance. "Rog, ya owe me one f' this."

"As a partial concession, you're allowed to smoke inside for as long as the task takes. I'm sure I'll find additional ways to compensate you later."

Kazaar nodded grudgingly. "Hold on t' this," he said, giving his coat to one of the security agents. In an almost stereotypical fashion, Kazaar began to roll up his sleeves as he entered the room for his 'talk'.

Roger watched him go with mild satisfaction. "Please do take good care of his coat," he instructed the guard. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see a gentleman about some business arrangements."

######

From the balcony, it would have been easy to see Roger's approach; finding Xavier Synik watching him as he came up thus did not surprise. Roger put on his most disarming smile, seeking just to ease any tension or uncertainty that might settle in at his arrival.

"Mr Synik? Ms Shadowstar?" Roger began. "My name is Roger Phillips and I work for Russard Industries directly under the Younger Mr Russard; I also liase with many of our top clients. I've been advised that I'll be delivering some documents to you tomorrow and wanted to take the opportunity to introduce myself to you now so it would not be a surprise when I arrive later. I was also hoping we could spend some time getting acquainted."

He extended a hand, first towards Xavier. "How are you this evening? Don't find the party too stuffy, I hope?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

'Course what Rog'n th'Russards knew, Kazaar wasn't gonna frack th'guy up. No point t'it. Wasn't an Imp, so that gave 'im o'point in Kazaar's book, but he'd tried t'slip in t'a party done by some o'the people th'former bounty hunter's heart hadda nice little place for. Most of 'em anyway...Jason th'Younger had a helluva stick up his ass'n Rog never always let 'im have any fun. Most o'the time.

"Here's what we're gonna do pal." Kazaar cracked 'is knuckles'n blew smoke at Zai's face f'effect. "I ain't beatin' ya up t'night. Ain't in thfrackin' 'mood. But I sure as hell ain't lettin' ya stick 'round here. 'Specially with that frackin' fake uni ya got. So take that damn thing off'n get outta here."

Th'guy looked like he was gonna protest. Kazaar got in 'is face, his black eyes pretty calm. "There's o'game I learned while ago." He pulled outta vibroblade he'd hidden in 'is pants'n turned it on. "Called five finger fillet."

Kazaar spread out Zai's hand'n started slowly movin' th'blade between th'fingers. "Now take off that Force-damned uniform'n get the frack outta here. Before I decide t'go any faster."

Five minutes later, 'is victory cigar perched b'tween 'is lips, Kazaar was back with th'V'al Counises. He'd somehow forgotten 'is jacket. Instead it was headed up t'his room. If he frackin' ran into Delly he sure didn't want t'cause o'scene.

"Frackin' party crasher." He smirked as if t'say he 'dealt' with 'im. "Who's th'dame ya got tied t'ya arm. She like t'play dress up in some kinda armor?"

[Xavier Synik]

From the balcony, it would have been easy to see Roger's approach; finding Xavier Synik watching him as he came up thus did not surprise. Roger put on his most disarming smile, seeking just to ease any tension or uncertainty that might settle in at his arrival.

"Mr Synik? Ms Shadowstar?" Roger began. "My name is Roger Phillips and I work for Russard Industries directly under the Younger Mr Russard; I also liase with many of our top clients. I've been advised that I'll be delivering some documents to you tomorrow and wanted to take the opportunity to introduce myself to you now so it would not be a surprise when I arrive later. I was also hoping we could spend some time getting acquainted."

He extended a hand, first towards Xavier. "How are you this evening? Don't find the party too stuffy, I hope?"

Xavier smiled and reached out to shake Roger's hand.

"Mr. Philips it's a pleasure to meet you."

He let go of his hand and took a slight step back.

"The party is wonderful, thank you for asking. And that's aside from the business deal which you obviously know about.

You don't actually need to spend your time coming all the way out to our facilities. You can send it along to my assistant Jax Stracken. Emelie doesn't know it yet, but I think we're going to take a couple of days vacation while we're here. Emelie get's back to Coruscant more then I do, so going to take some time while we have it."

Xavier didn't know if Roger knew about the Bastel or not, and decided not to mention it by name. He suspected that Roger knew about it, but when unsure about what someone knew, it was always better to avoid just handing them information.

[Caran V'al Counis]

"Something like that, Mr. Kazaar. Something like that." He replied.

Caran chuckled, lifting the flute to his lips and sipping quietly, snuffing out the laughter in short order. He kept a bit of an eye on the two women, not letting his investigative watch detract from his ability to participate in conversation.

"Though if you ask my personal opinion, I think she looks much better in the dress." An agreeable smile formed and he admired her form from afar, amidst his ponderings. A little enjoyment of the subject of his present investigations could hardly do much harm in this setting, now could it? "She's been of great use in my employ. Not sure I'd go so far to say she's Mando, but she sure seems to think it and act it. The armour is a nice touch to a believable image."

He knew she at least was very convicted that she was Mando, at the very least. If anyone had a good point of reference, it was Caran. She spoke the language well enough, that much was for certain. The younfer V'al Counis turned his face fully to Aurelias.

"What do you think?" Then he turned his gaze back to the woman in question, (as if to say that asking Kazaar's thoughts might have been rhetorical, though an answer was welcome) wondering just how said woman was getting on with his dear mother.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Now Kazaar was really feelin' outta place. Ya never called someone 'Mister' unless ya were lookin' t'get under their skin. Th'former bounty hunter kinda doubted th'boy V'al Counis was tryin' t'do that.

"Drop th'Mister' crap will ya? Name's Kazaar. Keep it like that." He blew outts long puff o'tobacco, enjoyin' the flavor even more. "Dame's cute sure." And she definitely looked pretty frackin' familiar.

"Don't look too comfy in th'dress either. What she think she's some kinda Mandy're something with th'armor she likes?"

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle tuned into to the conversation as she rejoined Santiago, Mili and Lykaios, the former discreetly folding his hand over hers in a quasi-possessive gesture. Estelle beamed. Could this night be more perfect?

Behind her, Kazaar was making new friends..or reaquainting old ones. One never really knew for sure, given Aurelias and his ambiguous past associations. Estelle took it as a good sign that he was striving to atleast appear social. She tossed a casual look his way and he noticed it immediately, giving her a subtle reassuring nod. She turned back to her company.
"Lykaios, please, tell us a little about yourself. Were you at the coronation ceremony of the Empress? I heard it was quite something."

[Getar V'al Counis]

This Kazaar fellow was highly interesting.

There had to be something more to him than his rough accent and uncouth manners, for Phillips to turn to him when there was trouble. Or was it part of Russard Jr.'s contract with Kazaar to have him act as security at this party? It seemed a little odd, otherwise, for young Estelle's bodyguard to be a guest at a Russard party otherwise.

Getar preferred thinking about Kazaar to having to deal with the uncomfortable stirrings of guilt Caran's first words had caused in him. Another memento of his past... another sign of the heritage the boy had been denied because of his actions. It had been the smart decision back then, but a selfish one, too. The older he got, the clearer that became.

As the old man stood there apparently following the conversation between his son and Aurelias Kazaar, the old memories won over his new curiosity, and he sank into a sullen mood of wondering what the boy would have been like, would have experienced, would have learned, if he - doddery old foold that he'd been already back then - had exposed them all. The what ifs were haunting him again, inspite of the outcome of the situation back then. But he hadn't decided to accept fate because of some foreboding voice telling him of the dangers of not doing so - he'd simply wanted the boy. A son. It'd been a second chance where he'd not thought another possible, having seen to it himself that it could not. It'd been a selfish thing to keep Caran for himself, but... for all his respect for the Jedi, he would not have let them take the boy. Even if his father was one of them.

Maybe if Kel-Naro had fought for him. But the Jedi hadn't. Had accepted the news, and accepted his deal. Maybe he, with his Jedi senses, had known what fate might have had in store for the boy had he become one of them. But if so, he'd not said a word of it - simply given up every right to his own son. And Getar had thought him cowardly, yet at the same time rejoiced. For with the rejection, the Jedi had given him a son.

His eyes watering now, Getar watched Caran, thinking of all the situations where he'd felt vindicated for his decision and actions back then. He couldn't have had a better son.

[Vince]

"Sir," he clicked his heels together as he saluted and stood stiffly. "Flight Lieutenant Idalix reporting for affirmation of transfer."

For a moment, under the scrutiny of North, Idalix felt his easy-going confidence falter for a moment under the weight of the man's authority. He allowed himself a quick glance at Adelaide, and saw that she seemed nervous as well. He hoped that his nervousness wasn't so easily seen; after all, he'd been trained to act under the eyes of thousands of people at once. Compared to that, one man couldn't be so difficult, could he?

[Cora V'al Counis]

"Good evening, mother." He emphasized the familial title, adding tension to the word as if to subtly indicate his displeasure at her need to come anywhere near him. "Ny... ah, Aree, this is my mother, Cora. Cora, Aree Ankarta."

He smiled tightly at his mother, then moved the arm which Nya gripped to place a hand on the small of her back, slipping said hand around to the other side and giving her a gentle push forward.

"Why don't you two talk? Get to know one another. I've some business to attend to." And with that, he left them.

She was too much a product of society to allow the intensity of her displeasure to show on her face. He dared talk to her like that!!!

It stung. Oh how it stung. And how it hurt - physically hurt - her to return his smile. She tried to pour every ounce of genuine warmth and love into it, but his never wavered a bit from its glacial coldness.

"Caran,... you--" she began to mutter, trying to entreat him one more time, trying to pick up the conversation where it had ended so disappointingly the last time. But instead of giving her even a second, of listening, he simply thrust his assistant at her, and stormed off after a short introduction.

He'd called her Cora, not mother.

That was the moment she realised she had truly lost her son.

Panic rose inside her heart, accompanied by sharp stabs of pain, and she lost all sense of dignity for a moment. Gasping for air even though her lungs seemed ready to burst with it, she snatched at the young woman's arm, instinct forcing her to find something to ground herself on. Even then, she didn't realise she had: she was lost, lost in a sea of faces, of voices, of meaningless babble that was swelling and ebbing in murmuring waves, creating vocal background to her personal orchestra of silent shrieking filling her head.

"Caran...!" she tried to call after him, but her voice wasn't there. It was a silent croak. It echoed inside her head. It was all empty in there now, but for the reverberating of his name. Her son. Lost.

What could she have done....? Totally oblivious to her surroundings now, hanging on to his assistant's arm without realising that she was doing so, she simply stood there, her eyes wide open as the first tears started to roll down her cheek.

[Yeart Quenn]

“Just the ravings of Inquisitor Settra. You’ve met her no?”

“I apologize, Mr. Quenn, but I must take my leave.”

Valten relaxed his grip on Yeart’s hand for just a moment before…

“…Oh, if I may, my office would very much like to get in contact with you regarding access to your shipyards for a small construction effort.”

Settra? Oh yes - how could he ever forget the Inquisitor that had come to call on him during the early days of his appointment, and done the mental equivalent of trying to shove her opinion of just what was wrong about the telbun system up his arse with a large metal stick? It had been because of her that he had taken on a telbun in the first place - just out of spite.

An annoyed nod was all he allowed himself to give the grand inquisitor in return to his question, which had been at best rhetorical, anyway.

Relief washed over him when he heard Valten announce that he must be off, only to be replaced by instant cowering dread when he saw the look in the man's eyes. Nevermind his hand which felt on fire, somehow - there was something inhumanly terror-inducing about Valten at that moment, and a shudder ran through the Moff. His mind was a total blank.

"Ahh... yes.... your office.... yes---" was all he managed to stammer, a mere repeat of what Valten had said, never realising that there was an assent in there somewhere, too.

[Rekoj]

The band had remarkably picked up on the couples saucy tango and did their best to keep the tempo. It was something that scared off some of the dancers while others took delight in joining in on the spark of lust filled activity.

Rekoj drew his hands to the small of Sasseeri's back, his right continuing to fall over the naughty curve of her butt and down to the back of her thigh. He gave a wink and hoped the half breed had enough dance intuition to feel what was coming as he let her drop in a low dip. Something for the boys perhaps, the Inquisitor thought with a grin as he sinfully reached down to bring the hem of Reeouurra's dress up to reveal the entirety of her right leg. He let her indulge the crowd before bringing her back up to press against his chest as the song neared its end.

[Eliessa Corta]

While Trix 'reported for duty' to North or whatever the heck he was doing, Eliessa allowed herself to purvey the room about her. There was old Getar, another old school associate of Corta's..the man had lost so much hair! And there was his wife, whom Eliessa had met once years ago at a benefit lunch in Imperial Center. They were money, those two. This bash of Jake's had brought out some of the wealthiest families in the city.

She recognised Valten, albeit she knew him only by reputation and even then, hard data on him was not easily come by. Not surprising really, given his position, but it was an annoyance to the Judge nonetheless.

There was Tarruurri, who Corta had liasoned with in the past on a number of different cases and who's sympathies to the Empire were simplified down to whatever keeps the streets safe. Corta was not convinced things were really that simple, however. The ICPD Detective's sense of injustice had often revealed itself in their discussions and the Judge felt the felinoid's increasing frustrations. It was a good relationship to explore.

And speaking of Cizeracks..the guests were getting a good show with the duo dancing the Tango. It was an odd match, Corta decided, but the two seemed to suit each other. They definitely danced well together. Applause erupted as Rekoj dipped Sasseerri and the room crackled a little with the effect of their display. "That was well done" Corta said, appreciatively.
Adelaide and Trix turned to where the Judge was looking, the dance now ended and Rekoj pulled Sasseeri into a close embrace.

"He another one of yours, North?" Eliessa asked Travis.

[Adelaide Kasperian-Kazaar]

Adelaide didn't care much for dancing, couldn't remember the last time she'd done it -- in any acceptable form with respect to their present company, that is. It was a long road from the days of Gorgja's Palace..

She halted the memory as best she could right there. Gorgja led to Aurelias and Aurelias led to watching him standing there wearing that damned suit and playing stupid games that she just was not up for. She had a strong urge to give him a peice of her mind and perhaps stick him with something sharp. A very strong urge. Trix must have sensed the sudden swing in her mood as he turned to look uncertainly at her.

Look at him...large as life. Adelaide even suspected he was, god forbid, having himself a good time. Bastard. She shot him daggers from where she stood and was barely held in her place from storming over to him by the subtle touch of Corta's hand to her arm. Apparently, Trix wasn't the only one to pick up on the volatile vibes Kazaar's former wife was generating.

[Karl Valten]

“Excellent, my aides shall be getting in contact with you soon.”

The smile turned warm and his eyes lightened somewhat, but it was still nearly impossible to read the Grand Inquisitor, the man had such impeccable control over his body language it was almost frightening.

“You will be compensated of course, we look forward to doing business with you. Do enjoy the rest of the party.”

Valten slightly lowered his head in a barely discernable bow, and took his leave turning towards the Cizerack.

“Shall we, Ms. Tarrurri?”

And with that the Inquisitor and Detective disappeared from Quenn’s sight.

“I detest politicians to no end.”