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Thread: Forces of Attraction and Repulsion

  1. #21
    "Oh!"

    She'd not expected the grab and the pull, but she certainly didn't really fight it, either.

    She had only been wanting to inspect Abby's armor, to make sure there weren't any micro-fractures or anything (not like she could really see them without some sort of microscope), but it was the words of wanting to take her for food that arrested her attention fully, and Tamera bit her lip in suddenly serious though.

    Food. Delicious dinner. A treat with a woman who thought she was worth spending time with.

    "A dinner with you?"

    And in that moment, she reached up to give Abby's helmet a little tap with a fingernail, right in the middle of the forehead.

    "I want to go there," she grinned.

  2. #22
    "Hell yeah a dinner with me."

    I have never been much of a dinner date kind of guy. I don't know what I'm doing and it's terrifying, but I'm trying my best. I used to pick up girls in bars. Well, I tried to pick up girls in bars. Usually I didn't get anywhere, but every once in awhile I would be successful. I certainly did not contact them the next day. Abaddon is a one and done kind of guy. I've never stayed in any one place for long. Too many targets on my back, and every minute I'm docked is more time for mother to find me. The next thug she sends to bring me in probably won't be as chill as Fook, and I'm not in the mood to either bury some rookie merc or hear a lecture.

    But with Beck I just can't stop coming back. Hopefully mother doesn't find me here. I don't want to think what I would do to her if she ruined what I had here on Jovan.

    "You want to go to my helmet? I mean, you can wear it sometime if you want."

  3. #23
    An impish smile, and Tamera rolled her eyes while gently pushing back from Abby.

    "I was making a bad joke about going to dinner with you," she grinned.

    At that moment, a protocol droid trundled out from a service hallway holding a box.

    Many pardons, Ms. Beck! I was told that you needed a new motivator?

    And suddenly work called her right back, and she extricated herself from Abby's hold. She turned on her heel, and let out a startled yelp. It was an involuntary reaction. Even though she'd dealt with the CZ droid many times, the damn thing never failed to startle that absolute mess out of her. Something about how it looked... it was just creepy.

    "Thanks, Zip," she ground out while snatching the flimsy packing box from the droid's hands. In the next motion she shooed the offending automaton away.

    "Go back to your order sheets, now."

    The sooner that it left, the happier she would be.

  4. #24
    "Holy shit. That thing looks like it eats babies..."

    Like, how did something like that ever make it off a production line? It was haunting to look upon, and I don't normally use fancy words like that. Because if I do, then Mother won. No. Stop. You're not here to think about Mother. You came here for a reason and so far you've been dancing around what you really want to say. I can do this. I can be brave, I think...

    "I was thinking we could check out that Corellian-Cizerack fusion place; Coronet Cluster. You know, get cleaned up and dress nice. No armor. Make a big night of it. You and me me. Abaddon can stay home..."

    Oh goddess, kill me now. My anxiety was going to make my heart explode.

  5. #25
    The temptation to turn back up at the depot in an hour sharp was strong. For one, Untaaura was punctual to a fault. That was half due to being a Marine, but she'd always been a stickler about time in general. Uncle Aiirrkaano always called her "Miss Serious." She'd never left the house without a chrono on her wrist. This would be no different, other than the Ronto in the room. Rrou Beck was throwing a spanner into her sense of temporal discipline. Showing up an hour sharp? If she didn't already know that something was up before, that would do it. It would burn her good escape that she'd made. Instead, she'd need to bend the rules a little.

    She'd show up late.

    But how late? A quarter after might seem even more suspicious than showing up on time. Someone who knew it was creepy to return on the dot, but also was premeditated enough to account for that. No, it would need to be something random, like eleven after. That could happen to anyone, right?

    The very idea that Untaaura was even thinking about this finally caught up with her with the force of a mag-lev train. There had been no shortage of beautiful women to cross her path since she'd returned from Thalassia, so it wasn't as if she didn't know that the attraction was there. But this wasn't a feeling that was completely sexual. There was something goofy and unconventional about Beck in their little encounter that left her feeling off guard (in a good way). Untaaura hadn't felt anything like that in a long time. She wasn't even sure if she could anymore. This was damned inconvenient, and her first instinct was to just bottle up the feeling and throw it in the vault. That wasn't exactly easy to do, though...


    When she finally got the nerve to break her afternoon routine, Untaaura arrived at the completely-casual time of two hours and 28 minutes after. That seemed completely unintended. She rounded the door into the depot, doffing her cap crisply as she approached the counter. In plain view was her familiar security-issue MSE unit. Next to it was not the person she was looking for. Swallowing her disappointment, Untaaura kept herself cool.

    "jIss that mjy MSE unjit?"
    Last edited by Untaaura Verratoa; Jul 17th, 2022 at 06:49:05 PM.

  6. #26
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    "Hmm?" Gradoona chirped, looking up from her holoromance novel. "Ooh, um, yepper it is. Taam took care of that one befoore headin' ouut."

    The Herglic haumed a little as she stood up, padding over to the counter where she hoisted the droid with one hand and eased it over.

    "If ya wanna yaknoo take it foor a few paaces in here, to make suure aall the wires are saaldered right, be my guest."

  7. #27
    "No, that's fine." Untaaura demurred, her previous ire at the lack of quality repairs suddenly forgotten. She held the mouse droid with detachment, almost like it was an incidental to the reason she was here.

    "jIss Beck herre?"

  8. #28
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    "Naah, she was ouutta here abouut an houur agoo." Gradoona had settled back into her seat and had resumed scrolling through her novel, half-engaged in the conversation. Suddenly, she paused mid-scroll, glancing up.

    "Why ya aaskin?" The vibe Gradoona had always gotten from Major Scarface was that she was button down and all business. Probably not a good thing to have her following up on you. Maybe she was asking out of concern for Tam, but Gradoona's first reason for asking was the sign of a gossip junkie looking to score.

  9. #29
    "jI jusst wanted to assk herr about ssomethjing we'd been talkjing about." Untaaura tried not to grimace. It was a complete nothing answer, she hadn't planned on this contingency. Either way, she wasn't here.

    "Tell herr thankss." the Marine added somewhat hastily, giving the MSE a little shake to remind herself she was still holding it so that she would stop doing that. She eased the mouse droid to the ground, started it up, and keyed the droid into follow mode. She took a tidy few steps towards the exit, and then suddenly complicated her retreat once more.

    "jYou wouldn't have anjy jidea about wherre sshe went afterr worrk, would jyou?"

    Untaaura turned back to face the Herglic, leaning as casually as she could against the bulkhead corner, allowing her to bleed nervous energy out of her tail sight unseen around the bend.

  10. #30
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    "Praabably either her quaarters oor the greasiest spoon aan the caancourse."

    She click-whistled a laugh, thumbing to another page.

    "Ya waant me to ping 'er?"

  11. #31
    "No." Untaaura replied, maybe a little too sharply. She shook her head and tried on a reassuring smile. It didn't feel convincing, who knows how it looked.

    "No. That'ss fjine. jI'll fjind herr laterr."

    Before she had a chance to say anything else wrong, Untaaura left without a goodbye. Alone with the mouse droid, Untaaura gave a sigh.

    "jYou pjicked one hell of a tjime to brreak down...ljittle man."

    She began the walk back to headquarters. To Beck's credit, Little Man pathed straight as an arrow, like an obedient pet. Arriving back, Untaaura stowed the droid on its charging stand, and checked in with her staff. The pulse of the room indicated a pretty slow day. Two arrests for publix intoxication. One for assault. A few citations for improper shipping clearances and permits. A half dozen protestors covering something or other. In other words - relative harmony. Nobody was seriously causing enough trouble to warrant anything more than business as usual. Just how she liked things.

    Sergeant Fangarn was at the front desk tonight. The Ishi Tib made small talk to anyone who wasn't slow enough to avoid it. Untaaura leaned into it, finding herself absent-mindedly talking about the weather on Carshoulis to upcoming station arrivals to some Twi'lek HoloNet influencer who was selling some kind of bullshit quack wellness plan. All of it was perfect cover so that Untaaura could casually glance at the security feeds over his shoulder. They covered just about all of the business-zoned concourse. If Beck didn't beeline it to her quarters after this, maybe she'd be somewhere out there?

  12. #32
    * * *



    Coronet Cluster was the sort of place that she would always send hungry side-eyes to. Except, she would never go since she didn't have someone to go with. And she certainly never opted for the delivery option since that screamed lonely homebody. Instead, she generally stuck with her greasy spoons and docking-bay style quick-food that was always so delicious, yet so so so bad for a body.

    But Coronet Cluster? So much swank.

    And swank like that called for looking hip. Looking good. Looking like they were put together and not a mess of junk food, red-eyes, and pants suits held together with overtaxed hairbands and used mechanic's tape. She was barely a human, but she made attempts, at least. She had found a pair of trousers that hugged her lower half in such a way that gave her more of a shape than anything she normally wore on any given day, and finding tops to go with was easy enough.

    While Abby had gone off to take care of whatever business it was that Abby did, Beck had finished up her shift - Little Man had taken a bit of extra care to make sure he was ship-shape for the Major - and had breezily ducked out when 'Doona showed up to relieve her.




    Stepping out from the lift, Beck paused only just enough to half-scowl while stepping aside so the others behind her could disgorge out to the concourse.

    Her hair had been put up into a strange amalgamation of a messy-ish half-bun, held with two foodsticks (because she didn't have anything else). A canvas low-cut jacket over a red linen button-up with a subtle voorpak pattern, and her beloved trousers. These ones were tan, which were close enough in color to the jacket to match - sort of. It was an unassuming sort of outfit, but for her it was almost extravagant. She'd even made sure to wear a necklace! Ok, it was a silly handmade mini-wrench pendant that little Musaraki had made her back on Nar Shaddaa, but it meant a lot to her, and so that was why she wore it now.

    The glittering, new jewel in Jovan's culinary crown shown brightly in the form of a soft-light sign, and Tamera took a deep breath.

    It would be a lie to say that she was excited to spend this meal with Ori.

    With a small grin to herself, she started forward, ready for delicious food and even better company.

  13. #33
    Naturally, I fucked off back to my ship as fast as I could. My heart was exploding in my chest. Shit, there was no reason to be so worked up. It was just a dinner date. I've faced so much worse. I've had blaster fights over rooftops where I was outnumbered ten to one, and nearly died. That's a cake walk. I know how it feels to be shot, stabbed, burned. I know pain. I know how my blasters feel as they rock in my arms. I know that jarring, second-hand sensation of punching out some guy's teeth with my gauntlets. I know how much force it takes to break fingers. I know to walk in full body armor when you are broken and bleeding inside. It's a shell that holds you up. But taking a cute lady out for dinner? Shit. I can count on one hand how many times I've done that before.

    It's once. And it was a lunch we didn't even get to eat!

    Beck was going to be off in a few hours and I needed to get ready. It was not going to be nearly enough time. The Firespray was not exactly a spacious model. I was never going to fit a grav-table in here no matter how cool they are and how much I want one. I still managed to unearth a lot of clothing I had stashed in the corners. Most of them had never been worn. Just things I had picked up here and there that I thought looked nice. The beauty of not having a tail is that I can wear most humanoid clothing without having to make any adjustments. I mean, come on. Look at me. I'm definitely not the type that can even scissor paper in a straight line. I'm sure as hell not cutting and sewing my own clothes. If I hadn't lost it in a fight, I would have had my tail removed just for convenience.

    Every screen and holo-projector was switched on and filled with images full from the Holonet of current fashion trends or advice columns on how to dress nice. And it was a big fucking waste of time, because I had the fashion sense of a teenage boy and did not have the wardrobe to even remotely fit these styles. The panic was really starting to build up. Random pieces thrown together as I posed in front of the mirror I usually use to check for armor damage and missing polish. Makeup? No. I'm not even going to try. Not my thing. Something cute, maybe? I think I have a skirt around here somewhere. Maybe even a dress. Oh goddess, I threw up in my mouth a little bit. Why do I have so many big belts, small vests, and weird hats?

    I don't want to look cute. I want to look HOT. I'm not sure how to do that. I usually go for badass, and the armor does that for itself. Shut up, Abaddon! I can hear you over there in the corner. Say one more thing and I swear to the goddesses above and below that I will bury you.

    Time's up. I had been spinning my jets for hours. The playlist of Blasterwave Cybercore music had run out awhile ago and I never noticed. Strappy pants, a staple of my life; my red and yellow boots, a red and black half shirt that showed off plenty of waist and scars, and the smallest half-jacket I had. I let my mohawk go limp over the earless side of my face and took a comb to fluff my good ear. And sure, fingerless gloves. I didn't like having naked hands. It felt very weird after so much time spent moving in the armor. It was a punkcore kind of look, but it was clean and presentable. Probably the best I had on short notice. We weren't going to dinner with my mother's business partners. This should do it for the Coronet Cluster. It was nice, but it wasn't nice nice.

    After properly locking down the ship, and giving Abaddon the rules for being home alone, I set off for the promenade. It wasn't the first time I had been on Jovan without my armor on, but it still felt very naked. Vulnerable. Anyone could recognize me out here. Every felinoid shape that stepped out from a shop or around a corner was suddenly my Mother coming for me. I stuck my fingertips in my tiny pockets and stared straight ahead. I would feel better if I had some kind of weapon on me, but security was pretty explicit in that I was absolutely banned from that sort of thing and I was not going to get myself thrown off the station on such an important nice. Tonight was about me and my big booty mommy.

    Of course I was arriving at the restaurant first. Everyone knows you gotta get show up early in case there's a line and get a table before everyone else shows. Basic courtesy. I was shown in pretty quickly, which felt a little suspicious. Usually I have to wait a long time whenever I go anywhere in armor. Have people been giving me the run around because they don't want to seat me in my armor? Buncha assholes. The inside of the Cluster was nice. Lots a Cizerack wood tone and neutral Corellian colors, slightly dimmed lights. It was cozy. The architecture was designed to mix those of Corellia and the Cluster. They had tastefully not put any statues of the Sun Goddess up around the place. That was the big mistake a lot of places like this usually make. So I guess that's one point for them.

    "Right this way!"

    The waitress was very, very chipper. Almost annoyingly so. Twi'leks weren't my thing. It turned me off how much everyone else was into them. But I had to admit, they grow them thicc on Ryloth.

    "Thankss."

    The table was tall with barstool chairs. Four of them. No two-chair tables left. I guess I should have put in a reservation. That's on me.

    "Can I get you anything to start while we wait for the rest of your party?"

    The projector in the center of the table came to life and display the menu options.

    "Uhh, can jI get a paji leeha, cold, and the deep frrjied ssajoji bjitess wjith extrra rrrrou krree'aji sauce?"

    Extra rrou? I mean, it was kind of right but still really weird to see on a fucking menu. Not as racially insensitive as I was expecting this place to potentially be.

    "Right away. I have to say, I love your accent! What part of the Cluster are you from?"

    There it is.

    "Diangsu."

    I'm not, but I'm not giving out where I'm from. Not reason to leave more breadcrumbs for my mother than I need to.

    "Wonderful. I'll get your order put in right now and check in on you in a bit."

    Thank the goddess she was finally gone. The place was half full, but the noise wasn't too bad. A lot of foppish looking humans and not a lot of Cizeracks. A familiar shape in the corner of my eye pulled my attention to the door, and Beck standing there looking around. Goddess, she looked nice. Funny seeing her without some kind of grease on her face. Looked almost like a completely different person.

    I waved my hands to get her attention.

  14. #34
    The look was different through the security feeds, but even with a three quarter overhead, it wasn't difficult to pick Beck out. She had a particular gait, a style that was more antithesis than thesis, and the glasses too, definitely the glasses. Usually people with ocular imperfections either had them corrected through surgery, genetic therapy, or cybernetics. Glasses might seem to some to be stubbornly anachronistic or simply inferior, but Untaaura had seen the frames close enough to know better. Beck knew what she was doing. And right now...she was apparently diverting from the concourse thoroughfare towards the new eatery - Coronet Cluster. Bingo.

    "Thank jyou Sserrgeant, that wjill be all." The Major cut the small talk off at the knees as she departed, leaving Fangarn halfway in the middle of a Hutt Ball discussion she wasn't even contributing to. If she looked back, the Ishi Tib might have appeared chagrined to have been jilted from the conversation, but Untaaura wasn't looking back. She was scheming. She headed into her office, quickly closing the door and shading the single pane of window that separated her from the common workplace at the station.

    The Major began the task of changing out of one uniform and into another, carefully working through a protocol list of buttons, folds, and the inevitable high-starched ascot. Her previous uniform cut a nice figure, but it was designed as much for function as form. She was changing into her parade crimsons, which were called for during parades obviously, but also for desk duty and social obligations where permitted. Outside of her tassled & high-collared dress crimsons, these were the nicest clothes she had. After doffing her previous jacket, Untaaura multitasked by pulling the cap off a can of deodorant with her teeth while punching a comm code with her other hand. Audio only please, connecting, one moment...

    Untaaura squeezed her eyes shut as she turned away from a bracing gust of deodorant applied with the care of a carpet bombing.

    "Hello?"

    "Tenjun, jitss Verratoa." she pulled a drawer open at the cabinet behind her, looking through a half dozen matched pairs of white cloth gloves before placing one set aside.

    "What can I do for you, boss?"

    "jYou'rre sscheduled to rreporrt on that jImbrrjissji gass haulerr we jimpounded tomorrow morrnjing," Untaaura tried to talk casually in the midst of bending halfway to keep the blousing of her jodhpurs even as she inched her high-calf boots up each leg. "jI want that rreporrt tonjight. jI have a sscheduljing confljict jin the morrnjing, and want jyourr takeawajy forr ssenjiorr command."

    There was a pause on the line, and Untaaura hurriedly moved into the small lavatory to scrub her face in the basin. When the soap and violence were concluded, she heard Lieutnant Tenjun's voice pick up again.

    "That, uh, that's not a problem ma'am. Give me five, ten minutes, and I can come by precinct."


    "Negatjive, negatjive," she furiously scrubbed her face dry against the towel and began to hastily throw on her blouse, fussing with buttons up to the top, where she paused and retrieved her ascot, "Thjiss jissn't a forrmal jinqujirrjy. Let'ss...let'ss get djinnerr."

    The delicate dance of getting the ascot to behave with her collar gave plenty of time for Tenjun's "Ma'am? to eventually bubble out. Untaaura glanced back to the comm with the cautious eyes of a cat burglar.

    "Djinnerr. Chow. Grrub. Let'ss go to oh, um..." The Major allowed herself a briefly indulgent grin at her subterfuge as she finished tying the ascot. Throwing her jacket over her shoulders but not yet buttoning it, she raced back to her desk to quickly bring up a quick key search. "...how about the Coronet Cluster?"

    "That new place? The expensive one?"

    "jIt'ss not that expenssjive..." Untaaura consoled Tenjin, herself having absolutely zero idea about the cost as she dealt with other important things, such as the wooden case with her bars, badges, and pins. She carefully began to affix them mostly on muscle memory. There was plenty of time to figure out the price for stuff later.

    "I mean, that's your call ma'am, its just not exactly the kind of place that I...

    No no no no!

    "jI'm not orrderrjing jyou to pauperr jyourrself, Tenjun. Mjy meetjing, mjy venue, mjy tab."

    Untaaura was vaguely aware that her words and pace were getting a little tighter and more clipped. Sometimes when you couldn't afford to sound angry, you put effort into sounding tidy, and Untaaura's cadence was clean enough to eat off of. Either way, Tenjun seemed to get the gist, and realized that you shouldn't question a free meal from your boss.

    Understood, Major. Coronet Cluster in ten minutes?

    Pulling a drawer, Untaaura's face relaxed into a frown as she stared at a complicated glossy black case. Opening it revealed an array of colorful swatches and tubes. Carefully, she twisted a tube, watching as a tapered vivid point raised from the opening.

    "Make jit half an hourr."



    Fifteen minutes later...at the Coronet Cluster


    Okay, so she'd padded her schedule, so what? Only some of that was needed to negotiate the makeup. It wasn't that Untaaura was some kind of feral Fey'danni bumpkin that never dressed up, she was just sometimes out of practice. Well, there were a lot of things she was out of practice with, so the learning curve was gonna smack her for one reason or another. But now, she stood at the precipice of the thing. The signage was electric neon signage against wood grain. It felt like a little unsubtle, like an unsupervised toddler with a tray of paint and a roller.

    "...an jinterrsstellar fussjion of culjinarrjy trradjitjionss, oh Goddess."

    She honestly had no idea what Corellian food was even supposed to be, or why it was different from other forrda food. The objective was going to be ordering something with alcohol, probably ordering the cheapest entree on the menu, and being convincingly interested in Tenjun's report that he could leave quickly, or at least allow for a spontaneous and accidental meeting.

    "Welcome to Coronet Cluster, how many are in your party?"

    The cheerful attendant forced Untaaura into interaction mode, and she tried not to treat the chipper attitude with outright suspicion.

    "Uh, jusst a table forr two, pleasse."

    "Oh I'm sorry, there may be a few minutes wait unless its okay to seat you at the bar?"

    Untaaura quickly clocked the bar relative to the dining area, and determined that it didn't really afford a good vantage.

    "No, that'ss fjine, jI'll wajit."

  15. #35
    She had been about to address the hostess when she caught sight of Ori, hands waving in the air and trying to get her attention. Not quite towards the back, but certainly not in the front of the house, Tamera smile wide as she quickly cast her eyes to the hostess.

    "My party is back there," she lifted her arm, pointing to the waving Cizerack, "... I'm with her."

    The hostess was a harried looking Gran, but was game enough to nod graciously.

    "Kaii-too jjicha oh rrroo saa," she mumbled, in a badly imitated Cizeri accent of her Huttese.

    It was the only understanding that she needed, and Tamera slipped past the greeting station to begin the short trek through tables, patrons, and staff. She was mindful enough to keep an eye on the serving trays that were brought out, and the delights that lay atop them.

    Of course, her smile was radiant when she hopped up onto her chair opposite Ori. She stilled, blinked, then gave a frown.

    No.

    This was silly, sitting across from Ori.

    Slipping off the chair, she moved to the one beside her dinner partner. Dinner partner... not really girlfriend, but wasn't she? Noooo, she wasn't going to think like that. The moment she'd ever started to in the past, it always fell apart. They were just figuring things out right now. And Ori hadn't shown anything but interest in her, and she'd certainly not rejected her little affections! Who knew?

    Perching herself finally on the chair closest to Ori, Tamera decided to test her luck. She had a good idea that her feelings were felt in kind, but she was always second-guessing herself, and that was because she was an insecure Nar Shaddaa trashbag.

    Leaning over, she planted a little kiss on Ori's cheek.

    "Hey there, you."

  16. #36
    I've had incendiary armor piercing rounds bounce around inside Abaddon's suit that burned less than my ear and face did right now. I mean, we have kissed more than a few times, but never out in public. It felt extra special.

    "Wow... jI mean, you look grreat. Verrjy snazzjy."

    I don't think I've ever done something so naturally before in my life as I reached under the arm of her chair with my hand and pulled her chair just a little bit closer to me. It felt like the right thing to do, and that's saying something because I never know what I'm doing or what to do. I just do, and usually wrongly. This must be what animals felt like when they acted on instinct. No thinking. Just doing without even knowing it. Because somehow her hand ended up in mine and I don't even remember making the decision to grab it. Freaky, but smooth.

    "jI orrderred uss an appetjizerr; but you'rre alrreadjy lookjing ljike a ssnack."

    So much for smooth. Goddess save me.

  17. #37
    The minutes dripped by like treacle. Untaaura sat on the waiting bench in the restaurant's foyer, resisting the urge to take a few steps into the dining room and rubberneck for the human brunette. The moment she considered it, she could fill her ear tip glowing in self-flagellation. That was a quick way to sink the ship! Her right knee began to restlessly bounce, and Untaaura snatched a menu from the hostess's podium to help smooth that over and give herself something else to think about for a few minutes. Opening the menu datapad was like upending a cornucopia of analysis paralysis. There was a section of dishes that were obviously Cizeri. A picture of the fish, rodent, bird, etc and a brief description of the animal's diet, planet of origin, etc. Options for live or fresh kill, and that was it. The other three quarters of the menu was, well, alien. Fussy things on plates cut into strange shapes, on a pile of something unidentifiable with a liquid that was assuredly not blood spooned over. Untaaura had to admit that despite how ridiculous some of them looked, there was clearly something artistic at work. She then began to think of how long it took someone fussing and fiddling over a plate to make these things. Papa always used to scold her if she played with her food.

    "Verratoa?" the Twi'lek pronounced her last name with an E-for-effort Carshoulis patois as she rejoined her Gran coworker at the podium, picking up two menu pads before noticing the Major already had one. Setting one of them down, she gestured towards the dining area. "Right this way, rrou'a." Untaaura tried not to grimace. The girl was being paid to project ambiance obviously, but it almost came off as kitsch. Untaaura willed herself way from fixating on that. After all, she had a mission.

    The trip across the dining room was quicker than she would like. By the gait of the Twi'lek and the wait in the foyer, they were in dinner rush and she was trying to stay out of the weeds. It didn't leave a lot of time to look around, so Untaaura did the best she could. The lighting inside was low and moody, with each table and booth having a hovering light source that served to keep each party's attention on their own space. Additionally, the dining room was long and had a gentle curve around a massive wood and aquarium accent wall, from which another bar seemed to emerge organically. The curvature, however, meant that one end of the room would be unseen from the other. Hurrying past, Untaaura tried to quickly clock the half-lit faces as she moved in step with the hostess, but remained mindful that she shouldn't obviously gawk. A quick flash of brunette mane caught Untaaura's attention, but the face turned to reveal someone else. On a hunch, Untaaura stole a moment to briefly pivot to look back. There! A tall table along the far wall. Nobody else wore those glasses. She was with someone though. With their back turned to her, whoever it was remained mostly silhouette. Untaaura greedily stole a moment to try and get a better look.

    "Here's your table, rroua."

    Damn. Untaaura sighed, pressed her tongue lightly between her dry lips, and turned back to follow the last few paces that would carry her out of sight. Well, no plan survived contact with the enemy. Seated at a similar table, Untaaura looked at the high chairs with a frown. Whoever made these things should be shot. There was no way to take a seat gracefully when you had to use a step bar to get up there.

    "Would you like to hear tonight's specials?"

    "No." Untaaura replied, trying to strike the right balance in her head between brevity and enough politeness. "jI'll have a glass of Occa'rajee and, uh..." She returned to her menu, finding her way back to the exceptionally fussy thing she was looking at before. "...the Kaatho Thranishan."

    "Oh, that's a wonderful choice, rrou'a!" Untaaura's eyes tracked to the right and the price. Thirty-eight credits?! She tried not to visibly wince. Fuck! Goddess, she couldn't back down now. It was the fussiest, most ridiculous thing on the page. She'd leapt with her heart instead of moving ahead with her brain. Plus, if Beck saw what she was having, maybe that was a conversation starter? Wow, you ordered a cooked piece of buffalo with a half dozen things wrapped around it, coated in pastry that could be displayed in a museum, and spent half a day's pay on it. I'm sexually attracted to people with taste and bad money skills.

    "What'ss a Thrranjisshan?" Untaaura blurted out of nervous energy, regretting asking instantly. The Twi'lek seemed put on the spot, and the twitchy shift of her lekku didn't need to be translated.

    "Oh, um...that's the name of a famous general...person...I can go ask?"

    With the opening she needed, Untaaura killed the indulgence.

    "No, no, that'ss...that'ss fjine." She could feel the beginnings of sweat starting to glisten on her head. "Can jI get ssome waterr?"

    "Absolutely. I'll be right back with that, rrou'a."

    Finally left alone, Untaaura let out another sigh. She tried to crane her head around the accent wall, and gave up, settling for fussing with her white gloves, eventually snatching them off her hands and stuffing them into pockets.

  18. #38
    Ori was grinning at her, and Beck grinned right back. Whatever appetizer she'd ordered didn't matter - the brunette knew she'd love it. Heavens, everything on the menu looked delicious. The fusion dishes were what she had eyes for, however.


    Crispy Fried Sajoi on skewers with portion of Corellian Forest Rice and a Kola Nut dipping sauce

    Bluevev Glider Roll with Rainbow Sauce and topped with Bokito

    Thimiar and Stewfruit Hash with Calanic Esote Maize

    Flutterdeer Tartar with a Mint and Yoghurt Sauce

    Fried Blackfish Skin with Cave Bean Pesto and Artisanal Toasts

    Kalo Waloo Boneless Wings

    Corellian Grass Snake and Juualai Egg Carbonara



    It all looked so damn good, and Tamera wasn't so sure that she could properly choose just one thing.

    Making an almost pained face, she let her head tip to one side.

    "I can't decide," she finally let out.

    One hand went down, below the table, to rest on Ori's thigh.

    "What do you think?"

  19. #39
    I felt my thigh tighten at her touch. It was a surprising sensation. Warm and comforting, but also I had the sudden urge to clench my thigh muscles tightly so that the muscle was apparent. If I had to say one thing about Abaddon, dragging his heavy ass around was great for muscle development. The support exoskeletons in those things was only good for so much, and I'm out there wearing a set of armor that doesn't even fit me so I can look bigger.

    "Well, jit'ss one of the few tjimess jI'm eatjing out wjithout an jinch of tungssten-plasstojid arrmorr platjing on everrjy fjingerr so jI thought jI would trreat mjysself to thosse wjingss. jYou have no jidea how harrd jit jiss to eat ssaucjy food wjith arrmorred glovess on. jIt sstajinss the fjinjissh."

    My face was as stoic as I could get it, pretending to be so enveloped in the menu and serious; but I couldn't keep it up before I cracked and tried to hide the smile that wanted to explode by pulling my lips into my mouth.

    "jI'm kjiddjing. jI'm ssurre thejy'll have forrkss orr ssomethjing. jI don't thjink thejy arre rreadjy to commjit to the rreal Cjizerrack experjience. jIf thejy brreak out a feedjing pjit jI'm outta herre. Heh. Thosse sskewerrss look good."

  20. #40
    "Oh I bet there's one built in to a private room in the back for the folks that want it," she couldn't help but muse aloud.

    It was interesting though, how Ori seemed to shy away from certain things about Cizeri foods. She was a lover of snacks, but no desire for the live stuff? It was interesting, and Tamera had to admit she rather liked it; it was a neat thing to think about, that her girlfr-...

    She blinked as her brain came to a screeching halt before she could finish even thinking the word. Her smile froze in place as she let herself stare down that cliff.

    Were they?

    It hadn't ever really come up between them - they'd just sorta been running on... something. The beginnings of a relationship? The start of something that was more than just a space station booty call?

    She had to ask. She had to know.

    But first, she had to commit to a dish.

    "They do look good. Why don't we get that and the wings, and then we can split them?"

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