Grand Opening

[Okar the Fabulous]

It had been a month since he'd put the lease up on the tower at Cloud City's western quarter, and in that month, all sorts of things had happened. Namely, the Empire had occupied Bespin. It was one of the costs of doing business anywhere, really. You never knew when some oppressive interstellar government was going to take over in a particular place. If you weren't prepared for that, then honestly, what were you prepared for?

Okar had played the game before. He re-applied all his permits as needed, got the clearances he needed to continue business, and soon, his latest temple to fashion, his latest branch of OKwear was opening.

"Oh my, but it's glorious, isn't it?"

Centered in the midst of the sprawling lobby of the upper-tier boutique was a marble dais, surrounded by smartly-dressed mannequins, styled in the way of classical statues of the Old Republic. On the dais, looking grander than life, was a marble statue of the Fabulous One himself, the Great Okar, hoisting a chalice in the air that doubled as a hologram projector, ensuring that a flight of holographic doves circled his head like a halo. It was all so...inspiring.

Easing forward on his pillow-piled repulsorsled, Okrar waved his arms wide.

"And to think, what a way to set the tone when inside? Our guests are coming to a temple, whether they realize it or not. A temple to fashion, and I am here to take their confessions, absolve them of their sins, and make sure they are all..."

He paused as his entourage of helpers and hangers-on clung to his dramatic moment.

"...Fabulous!"

All around, media began to snap pictures of the interior of the beautiful boutique, as Okar's hand-picked models doubled as guides to the select audience he'd invited for a sneak peek. Flanking the sides of the enormous open space were tables with drinks and hors d'ouevres. Other select employees helped some of the guests shop. Yes, even in this auspicious event, he was certainly wanting his guests to buy his products.

"Darling, that stole, it was you before you ever knew it. You were destined for it."

He made certain to identify people connected to the Imperial occupiers, and to butter them up extensively. The fifty-something he'd complimented on the stole was a Moff's wife. Okar made sure a lackey passed on a perfectly-matched set of shoes to match, and made sure those shoes were complimentary. Writing off 1000 credit pumps for a bit of good favor was a no-brainer decision.

[Lorn Kadross]

Very rarely had Lorn Kadross dealt directly with Hutts. He preferred to do business for them instead of with them. He'd made a good deal of cash working as a human face in Jabba's organization for years until it was absorbed into Black Nebula. He was left short changed during that shuffle which left him a single avenue of advancement - to become a major player himself, a true businessman who brokered deals between the high end firms of the galaxy for a nice fat fee.

His latest deal had brought him to Cloud City on behalf of Merr-Sonn Munitions Inc., the aim being to secure tibanna gas from the now Imperial administrated refineries. Before any talks began he felt it best to acquire new business attire as the old black suit just didn't cut it these days. Although not on the invite list Lorn had managed to pull some strings, rather line a few pockets with Imperial credits, to gain entry for the purpose of purchase. He needed a sharp new look to stand out before the look flooded the cityscape.

Lorn enjoyed being an early adopter of the latest and greatest available as it gave him a visible edge over his competitors when cutting deals. One can't simply approach a prospect looking like a push over - You have to mean business to do business, Rule #1.

As the invitees dispersed to shop and mingle Lorn stepped away to the drink table and took a minute to observe the scene as it unfolded. He watched as the models strutted their stuff, choosing then to decide he would shop at his own pace and not fall for the compliments of a well dressed and well versed salesperson. He knew that game, and the game was to make credits - not make nice. Rule #2.<input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden">

[Okar the Fabulous]

As a male Cizerack minder fanned Okar with a stylized "frond" designed for just that purpose, His Fabulousness made chit-chat with those attendees who just had to be on the record about his collection.

"Your colors this season are so assertive, but still ascetic in a 'less is more' way."

Okar sloshed his oversized drink around a bit as he considered the comment, and gave a coy smile.

"Well, it's all about saying a lot without being loud, really. Sort of that 'Imperial Everyman', can't you see, just walking along, chin up, maybe a quarter-turn back. Well tanned, good clean lines, but hair done just-so all devil-may-care, but he knows what he's doing, and that's the point, honey."

This elicited a bubbling of agreements from the fashionistas, and Okar just ate it up. Still, he couldn't help but notice a man walking at the periphery, checking out both the refreshments and the garments alike. With a snap of his stubby fingers, he summoned his majordomo.

"Who is that drink of water over there with the good tan and the cheap haircut? He's not on my list, is he? Not that I mind...sort of that diamond in the rough look. Anyway, be a dear and get his name, and give him some coupons for the salon. And heaven help me, make sure he buys something."