In the parlor of my enemy… (open)

[Lord Van-Derveld]

The air in the Sith Palace was so stale. It was high-time he left Corellian soil, and therefore Vega Van-Derveld had decided to sojourn to Coruscant. It had been some time since the Sith and Jedi Orders have been roiling in war with one another, but he didn't expect this would warm his welcome anymore. He was searched in accordance with the bars rules on entrance but of course, being the arrogant creature he was, had no weapons with him. He was the weapon.

For a moment he paused, to try and see if there was anyone of importance he could exchange idle chat with. He was not above manners when it came to knowing his foe. In light of the absence of any familiar faces, he gathered his robes up and sat himself down, simply watching and listening.

[Abagael Zellan]

"Blast it's hot in here! What are we trying to do, melt the tabletops?"

Abagael Zellan pulled off her jacket irritably, stripping to the flimsy black blouse she wore underneath. The woman had had quite enough of this pregnancy business. The constant mood swings were destroying any proffesional front she wished to present, the cravings were driving her up the wall, and the sweating... It really was a disgusting thing.

"I need rum."

This was said to the bartender who just shook his head. Abby came in nearly every night now asking for the same thing, and each time he merely handed her a glass of water, or juice. Tonight was good ol' OJ. Abby scowled and glanced at the menu. Nothing seemed particularly appealing, in fact it was all quite naseating at the present.

"Just the juice tonight then. But as soon as this thing is out,"

She jerked a thumb at her stomach.

"I want the good stuff."

Look out, she was in one heck of a nasty mood!

[Lord Van-Derveld]

For some time, his eyes had just wandered. Everyone merged into one beige-robed face, regardless of species. Through his eyes, they were all one body, one cancer. The scarce few who stood out to him he could only assume were not Jedi. This, he had decided, was most likely the case with the flustered woman at the bar. Vega stood up, approached the bar and ordered a half of Corellian ale (in spite of despising the planet, he was quite fond of their breweries). As he waited for his drink he cast a side-glance at Zellan - she looked as though she was about to burst!

"Miss."

A polite smile and he canted his head, in greeting. Then, a little display of tactlessness and cunning all in one.

"I must say, I admire your determination. Any other Jedi with child would have been bed-ridden for weeks now."

[Abagael Zellan]

Abagael had been about to inhale the juice when a voice to the side of her caused the glass to stop halfway to the womans mouth. Deep blue gaze studied the man beside her curiously for a moment and then, finding nothing particularly interesting, dulled.

"It's got nothing to do with determination."

She lifted the cup to her lips and took a long sip, tilting her head back as the drink diminished. When there was little more than a half-inch of juice left Abby set it back on the bartop, wiping away the pulp-mustache that lay above her top lip. Once again she looked at the menu, not really hungry but feeling in the mood for something. From the corner of her eye Abagael saw that the company on her left was still there.

"Been here before?"

[Quay'Na Rakai]

Quay'Na Rakai stepped into the bar, she was in a pretty good mood. Sanis had been leaving her alone and that was a good thing.

Anthony was away for next few days, so she was pretty much on her own and it had been a while since she'd been in the bar and grill.

Quay was hungry, walked right by the bar and to a table. Grabbing a menu she began to peer into it looking for something good to eat.