Bop in, say hi (s'il) -fin.-

[Sean Piett]

Piett knocked on the door a third time, and in all honesty, he was growing rather impatient. Looking around, he supposed it was possible that she'd seen him. He didn't really expect her to stick around once she saw him.

Lok S'ilancy.

The ambassador pressed at a few buttons off to the side of the door, which beeped in protest. Locked.

Sighing audibly, Sean assumed he'd have to go around. Find a door around back, or cut through the garage. He certainly wasn't about to climb up a gutter and go in through the window. Stepping around the spacious estate, he soon found an open door.

Peering in, he saw her. A line of grease shone in her thick, blonde hair. She was cute, kneeling and cursing as she pulled apart a rusted speeder. Quiet as he could, he slipped inside. As Piett glanced around, he surmised that the place was her workshop. Wrenches, hydrospanners, and dozens of seemingly useless engines and speeder parts littered the shop.

Sean pressed in a panel, and the door swooshed shut. S'il jerked.

"It's been a while, Lok."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The sound of another voice was enough to cause the Lupine to start in surprise, but it was who the voice belonged to that made her twist her torso in his direction. The socket wrench she'd been holding clattered to the concrete floor, and s'Il stared at the man standing just inside the now closed door of her shop. A man she never thought she'd see again - hoped she'd never see again.

The repulsor drive she'd been dismantling still lay partially in her lap, and therefor she didn't bother to stand. Instead, the Lupine raised a finger up, her mouth open as if about to speak; she paused, silence filling the air between the two before clamping her mouth shut once more. A blank look had passed over her features, and s'Il once more turned back to her task,

A few seconds passed in quiet, then once again she turned around quickly to look - he was still there. Damn.

He looked the same as the day she'd left Omerose, and she was willing to bet he still held his little anti-alien sentiments just as strongly, if not more so.

A finger went up once more, pressing against her lips as she thought to herself. Finally, she spoke, her eyes going to his.

"I am going to turn around again, and when I look back next time, I don't want you to be here...

"... savvy?"

[Sean Piett]

Smiling and shaking his head, both ever so slightly, Piett spoke. "You've lost all that respect, and so quickly. I'm sorry, Lok.."

He took a single stride towards her, and stopped. "..But it won't be quite so easy to shake me."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

With a sigh, s'Il turned back to busy herself with removing the repulsor bits from her lap. "Come off it," she started, brushing metal bits from her legs before getting to her feet, "we're not on Omerose."

Grasping her socket wrench, the Lupine ambled lazily towards the workbench. Dropping the tool onto the wooden surface, she stood quietly, then turned to face him. Her eyes narrowed in thoughtful confusion. "Which brings up something of another matter - what are you doing on Thyferra... ? I know I'm not that important to you."

[Sean Piett]

Piett tilted his head and frowned thoughtfully. He'd expected, perhaps, for her to be more intimidated by greater degrees. His eyes followed her to the table as she spoke.

"I'm here as ambassador to the Sovereignty. Representing the Federacy, of course."

He paused.

"I must say, I didn't quite expect to find you. When I heard, of course.."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Leaning back against the worktable, the Lupine crossed her arms over her chest. Just the tone of her voice was vastly different than what Piett undoubtedly remembered from before - now, it was more... noncommital and generally unconcerned. A hand came up to rub at her temple as she spoke.

"Wait, let me guess. You just had to see for yourself."

She canted her head. "Now that you've seen with your own eyes, are you satisfied?"

[Sean Piett]

Hearing her question, the ambassador looked around the room. Oil slicked the floor, and there seemed to be no order to the tools and components. S'il's own face and hands were smeared, black. Sean opened his mouth to speak.

"You're many things, s'ilancy, but a duchess you are not."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The Lupine waggled a finger at him, but said nothing as she leaned down to pick up an errant hydrospanner.

"Whether I act like it or not, I still am one, so get used to that tasty little fact.

"Besides," she continued, pushing away from the workbench with her tool in hand. Stepping over to the dismembered vehicle, she reached into the gaping hole where once an engine had been fitted and began scraping off the corroded radiator housing with the butt of her tool, "there's not really much you can do about it, is there now."

[Sean Piett]

Piett stood with his arms tight against his side. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white. He was livid. Irrational.

"Never speak down to me again. I could kill you. Your sister. Millard. You're not on the registry. I could tell them what you are."

He spilled the words out quickly, without thinking or breathing. His eyes were wide as he stared at her.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

There was seemingly no reaction from the Lupine, but presently she leaned up, setting the hydrospanner down on the floor to pick up a wrench. She gave him a disinterested stare. "What good would that do you? The Chancellor already knows, the Inqusitoriate already knows, Desaria already knows... " she once more buried her upper half into the empty engine housing, "... and on top of that, they already know that I'm not registered.

"As for Millard, well, I don't really see him anymore, and he's stopped looking for me, so I don't think it'd do you much good to kill him."

A grunt of frustration escaped her lips, as the bolt she'd been trying to loosen refused to give way, and pulling herself out, s'Il gave a shrug to Piett, "If you want to kill me, you can try. I won't stop you. But, just remember - we're on my turf now."

She dropped the wrench in mild aggravation, pulling out a grease-stained rag from the back pocket of her trousers. "How is my sister, anyway? I haven't talked to her in a while."

[Sean Piett]

Piett found himself entirely frustrated with Lok and with himself. Without a dozen troopers, without stun batons and nets, without the Force- without these there was little he could do to control this conversation. Entering the workshop, he'd expected her to be intimidated; a pusharound. And Lok- he found her equally arrogant as himself, though she captained their talk as he would a ship.

He stood silent for a time and thought these thoughts. Composing himself, he spoke, "She's fine, I suppose. Though I don't care for her much more than for you."

Upon reflection, he realized these words were no more thoughtful than the last he'd spat. Bitterly, he moved on before letting her reply. "I don't know you or what you love, but I wouldn't hesitate to take everything from an alien woman I don't much care for. I have the means and the will to do so, and require only a few more reasons to follow through."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

This time she did stop what she was doing, looking at him, her hands having stopped their cleaning motions. With raised brows she slowly went back to scrubbing what oil she could from her fingertips.

"Well," she started halfheartedly, a complete lack of concern dripping from her tone, "I never expected you to hesitate in any case when it came to hurting those that are different from you. People fear and hate what they don't understand, and trust me. You're no exception."

The Lupine dropped her rag on the floor, reaching for a small itch on her back as she started forward, heading for the door that her lovely visitor had recently stepped through. As she passed by Piett - purposefully closer than he would have liked - she spoke. And oddly enough, unlike the almost singsong taunting tone she'd been using, her voice was stern.

"Come inside."

[Sean Piett]

Piett closed his eyes and slouched against the wall. He played with the idea of pulling out a knife and parsing her spine as she passed him.

No, he could use her. Not to mention how negative the Sovereignty's reaction would be.

But it could start the war. Help, at least.

Piett wasn't ready, though. He had several things left unattended that needed to be dealt with before he could flee.

Sighing, Piett leisurely swung around and followed s'il through the door. He hoped she wouldn't take it as a sign of weakness, but somehow he doubted it.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The trek to the main house was relatively short, and s'Il led the way inside, heading for the kitchen.

Unlike the shop, the inside of her house was spotless - spartan even. Little to no decoration; only a few paintings adorned the bone white walls, and the entire air about the place was one of openness. It'd be hard to feel any sense of claustrophobia in surroundings such as this. What little furniture there was was black, leather, and while simple, it was easy to tell that if one were to sit down, it'd be eternally comfortable. The only room that seemed to have any sort of life within it was the living room - the holovid and game console, surrounded by a few game cases giving the only indication that the time spent here was enjoyed.

Other than that, the entire house was immaculate. The Chancellor would have been envious, oh yes he would.

With a saunter, the Lupine stepped into the kitchen, making her way to the sink to further remove the grime from her hands.

Finally, after a few moments of silence and letting the water run over her hands, s'Il grabbed one of the dishtowels to dry herself. She looked sidelong to Piett, who'd followed.

"Why are you afraid of me."

It wasn't a question.

[Sean Piett]

His eyes, up until that point avoiding s'il, immediately turned to her. After a breif lock between the two, he glanced down. The water, still running, killed the white noise in the otherwise mute room. Piett began to breathe quickly and audibly.

Running a hand through his hair and staring rather hard at the floor to his side, he spoke.

"Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate."

Looking to her, he continued.

"Hate leads to power, power leads to victory. Let your anger flow through you. Your hatred will make you strong."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The towel dropped to the counter, and the Lupine gave Piett an unimpressed stare.

"That's... sweet, I suppose. But it doesn't really answer my original inquiry now, does it."

Moving to the cooler unit, she opened the door, and pulling out two bottles of some local brew, s'Il set one down on the counter in front of Piett.

"Care to try again?" Twisting off the cap from her own beer, she gently set it on the tiled countertop, "I know you can do better than some little poem."

[Sean Piett]

Piett sighed inwardly. Ancient Sith dogma really wasn't applicable.

"Well," he started, "I'll be honest. There are a few things about you that I find most unpleasant. You're related to the Imperator's mistress. You're obviously close to Telan and to Taylor."

He paused and looked into her polished silver eyes. Most unnatural. It was evident that he wasn't done speaking.

"But what you are. What you are bothers me. Born a human. Somewhere along the line, made an alien. Different. But instead of a third arm, a stalk on your head, you react to the Force."

Piett considered dramatically raising her from the floor before remembering where and what she was. A lip pulled up in a scowl.

"The Force lives in and guides all things. It extends itself through chosen ones, such as myself. All shapes and walks of life," he squinted hard at Lok here, "Including aliens. But you disturb the process, you hinder and endanger those that practice the Will of the Force."

He slowly raised his left arm, leveling his index towards her. His fingers and thumb hung loosely, not clenched. Piett tilted his head so as to look down his arm at her. "You are most unholy," he finished, slowly and deliberately.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Well, that was unexpected. The surprised look that crossed her face in the first few seconds following his words must have been priceless (though more than likely that fact was lost on no-nonsense-Piett). The shock didn't last long though - and slowly her features began degenerating into a look of helpless mirth.

A quickly stifled snort of laughter escaped her lips before she clamped a hand over her mouth. He had to be joking, there was no way the man could - he couldn't possibly be -

"Oh my God, you're serious, aren't you... "

The Lupine let herself fall slowly into one of the kitchen tables, keeping her eyes locked with Piett's. "That cuts me, Sean," a hand still holding her beer went over her heart, "right here. That cuts so deep. I can't believe you think I'm unholy.

"And after everything I went through for you."

Man I can't wait to tell Silus about this - he'll be so jealous.

[Sean Piett]

All manner of evil thoughts flipped through Piett's mind. He calculated his odds of killing her with the Force before she fully transformed. He was used to cowed heads and reverence, not such words at his own expense. Respect, not mockery.

He wanted very much to hurt her right there. Not only in this house, but specifically, right there, carving her up with one of two blades resting at the small of her back. Tracing with durosteel where her hand just had, albeit more forcefully.

"I suppose," he murmered, "I was foolish to hope for a logical argument with you. It seems apparent that snap batons and backhands speak the only meaningful words you understand."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

A sigh.

She could be serious - she really could. It was just that the nature of Piett's words struck her in such a way that she couldn't help but find it amusing.

"Ok," she started, "no need to get nasty here." A hand went out, indicating the chair that sat across the table. "Sit down."

when he didn't move, s'l gave him an exhasperated look.

"Please? We have some things to talk about."

[Sean Piett]

Hesitantly, exasperated, Piett stepped over to the chair. Turning his back to it and lowering himself in, he kept his eyes on Lok.

He rested his left elbow on a black arm of the chair and buried his forehead in his palm.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The Lupine watched, curiosity in her gaze as he sat. This guy - this guy was wound up so tight, that she was willing to bet if a rock was stuffed up his rear, in two weeks it'd be a diamond. Of course, that was all pure speculation.

s'Il leaned forward, resting her arms on the table.

"You need to stop worrying about things so much. You're wound up tighter than anything, and you let every little thing get to you. Honestly, it's not worth anything to get upset over the tiniest uncomfortable thing."

A single finger tapped the tabletop. "Look at me.

"If you don't start showing a little tolerance, you'll be left behind like a junked out speeder. You can't afford to do what you did to me back on Omerose.

"... not everyone is like me. I took what you gave me, endured your little tests and experiments, and obeyed your every command. But you know what? At this point in time, I don't really care what happened back then. You say the only things I understand are batons and backhands - maybe you're right."

s'Il took a small sip from her drink, pausing a little, then went on. "What I do know is that I'd rather talk with you than feel your boot in my ribs or your heel on the back of my neck.

"I'm alot like you in most respects, you know."

[Sean Piett]

As she spoke, Piett kept his face hidden in his hand. At her beck, he peered through his fingers at her as she spoke.

As she finished, he exhaled. He clasped his hands directly in front of his face, as if in prayer. It was obvious that he was deep in thought, but he betrayed little emotion.

"I'd.. like a drink. Something hard, if you've got it. Anything, really."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Brows raising, s'Il looked at Piett for a moment before getting to her feet. Her drink was returned to the counter, and leaning up, she opened one of the cupboards, retrieving two highball glasses. Reaching into the cabinet above the cooler, the Lupine pulled down a bottle of whiskey; Piett wanted something hard, she'd give it to him.

Ice soon followed, and as she poured them two glasses of whiskey on the rocks, s'Il turned her eyes to Piett.

"Hard liquor turns people mean, you know," she started coyly, taking both tumblers and setting one before Piett before sitting down herself. "But, hard liquor also makes people more understanding to what others have to say."

[Sean Piett]

Piett sat recumbent in the plush leather, scowling at the glass on the fine wooden table. Grunting, he leaned forward to pick up the glass. It was cold; sweating. It left a small ring of cold water on the table. Bitterly, Piett hoped it would leave a stain and spoil the otherwise immaculate s'Ilancy Estate.

Swirling it lightly, Piett watched the ice cubes float around lazily and bounce off the glass, making that distinctive plunking sound.

He raised it to his lips, not hesitating before beginning to tip it back. His adam's apple gulped one, two, three times before he pulled away. A little whiskey dribbled towards his chin, and he wiped it away with the hand holding the glass.

Still half full, the whiskey in the cup shook, some splashing out as Piett stood abruptly. Glaring at her, he reared the cup and threw it sidelong at the wall, where it exploded brilliantly. A trail of liquor followed its path from his hand to the [browning] white wall.

"Who the Krasst do you think you are?!" he began suddenly, spitting as he hit the harder vowels. "You chose fur and those.. metal eyes over flesh, blood, and bone! You whore yourself to men of power! You have no discipline. You're scum without a path. You," he enunciated here, pointing aggressively at her, "Are nothing like me."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

In the wake of this newest outburst, s'Il cast an exhasperated gaze to the wall where Piett's glass had impacted. Eyes shifting the Ambassador then, she maintained her air of slight frustration.

"I would ask that you don't waste my liquor again," she chastized.

Another bit of silence, the two staring at one another - s'Il sitting, and Piett standing. He looked like he was ready to blow his lid, if he hadn't already that is, and when she spoke next, her words were terribly immaculate and precisely pronounced.

"Ambassador Piett. You are making false assumptions about me." she stood, glass in hand while her other lifted, a single finger extended as if to illustrate a point, but after a moment, the Lupine lowered her arm. She turned her back to him then, ambling from the kitchen and into a hallway that would eventually lead to a nearly empty sitting room.

She went on then, not waiting to see if he'd follow. "You seem to have me pegged for a lowlife capitalizing on a good deal and taking advantage of anyone I can lay my (forgive the term)... paws on. I assure you, that isn't the case." she wheeled on him then, pointing at him as he'd pointed at her. "I did not choose to be turned, the choice was made for me; paid for by my own will and spirit. It took me a year before I came to appreciate the gift that I had recieved. I don't expect you to understand though - those that are narrow-minded don't tend to accept those that aren't like them.

"As for me 'whoring' myself, you're poorly mistaken. I'm no cheap slut who is passed around from one officer's bunk to another. I'm not that easy - I haven't been with a man for a very long time, and the way things are here on Thyferra, I don't expect to find anyone anytime soon.

"I work for the Sovereignty; that is all. They say 'steal us a Star Destroyer', I steal them a Star Destroyer. Provided the compensation is adequate enough, of course."

A pause, and that same self-inflicted madness in her voice that had first greeted Piett when he arrived once more found its way into her tone.

"Unless... unless there's something I have that you're jealous of... "

The light of realization dawned in her eyes, and the Lupine grinned widely as she sauntered up to Piett.

"... perhaps you wish you had the freedom I have? Able to do whatever I want and not report to someone? Or... or perhaps," her eyes lit up, "my clothes?"

s'Il's expression turned utterly serious then, and she stood on her toes to get in close to his face.

"You're not a cross-dresser, are you?"

[Sean Piett]

Piett's eyes met her's, nearly level as she strained to keep even. As she spoke, he simply glared, actually twitching a little. She finished, and he waited for a few awkward seconds before making any response.

With a light snort and a shake of his head, he dismissed the idea. He smiled a little- a pitying smile. He skirted past her, and began to speak with his back facing her. "You know, I really don't know how to respond. No. I have everything, but it means little to me." He bent slightly to pick up her own glass of whiskey. Holding the cold liquor, he peered over his shoulder at her. She'd turned to face him. "I hope you don't mind," he muttered before sipping a little.

"Not all aliens are stupid- some are quite clever. Some, brilliant. But none can understand their inherent inferiority. To be honest, I sort of hoped you would. You displayed some strength on Omerose, and you're no idiot. No less, you're born human." He glanced over his shoulder at her again before turning back to the drink. "My expectations were rather high, and I'm a little frustrated with you and with myself. But I don't need to spell out my thoughts."

Shuffling his feet, he turned to face her. He took a large sip of his (her) drink. It was beginning to loosen him up. "You say you do favors for Imperials. For just compension. Compensation, rather. I have a favor to ask of you." As she began to open her mouth, he raised his hand to indicate she stop. "And," he chuckled out, "It's not your panties." Another gulp, and he looked expectantly at her.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

As he took his first sip from her drink, s'Il only raised her brows. "You'll get alien cooties, you know. But by all means, help yourself."

Piett made her wonder sometimes - and not the good kind of wonder. She didn't necessarily hate him, she just liked pushing his buttons, so to speak. It was terribly easy.

If she was surprised by his last words, she didn't show it; instead, the Lupine stood stock still. Compension? Is he that much of a lightweight?

"Me? Do a favor for you? After all the garbage you put me through, you want me to help you out with something?

"I think you've had too much to drink, friend - even if it wasn't much."

[Sean Piett]

Piett held his stomach as it rumbled and she spoke. The whiskey was already mixing with his medicine, but he didn't bother explaining it to her.

"Look. I have no doubt that somehow, Anar or Desaria'll hear of this, so I'll be as cryptic as I can. I want you to kill Anar."

He twirled a finger in the drink he held idly. "Please."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Speechless, shocked, stunned, and utterly surprised. Those were the only words that could describe s'Il as soon as she heard what he asked of her, and for a few seconds, the Lupine did nothing but stand and stare at him.

And it was a stare that he'd recieved from her before; when he'd first had her brought in for interrogation, the look of disbelief that washed over her features was the same now as it had been back then.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, she moved. Brushing back an errant strand of hair, she made her way back to the kitchen, lowering her smaller frame once again into the chair.

s'Il turned metallic eyes, unbelieving almost, upwards to lock with Piett's. Her voice was low; not in fear of being too loud, but more in shock.

"You're joking... "

[Sean Piett]

Piett shook his head a little, his face neutral. "No," he said, "Perfectly honest. Name your price- I mean it. Anything, and it's yours. We'll give you asylum on Delteon until things cool down."

Piett motioned at her with his arm holding the glass. "This is a solid way to get out. Stop being Baroness or Raenora or whatever it is you do. Get away from the Inquistors breathing down your neck.

"This is, obviously, not a personal request. It's purely professional."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Her eyes narrowed then, and reaching out, the Lupine grabbed her drink back.

"There's a catch - you wouldn't offer something like that; especially to me, without there being some little payoff that's sadistic enough for your personal tastes.

"Purely professionaly my tail," she growled, taking a sip, "How do I know you won't cart me off to some facility once I get to Delteon so you can continue your little experiments on me?"

[Sean Piett]

"No, actually. You certainly don't need to come to Delteon, but I don't know if you could escape without my help.

"Look. There are two people I can throw at Anar. You, and myself. And using you would be much more subtle, if you follow."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She leaned forward in her seat then, raising a finger in thought.

"Something does occur to me though... "

The Lupine canted her head, giving him a lop-sided look.

"... why are you coming to me? What makes you think I can do it?"

[Sean Piett]

Piett shrugged. "Maybe you can't. An attempt on his life will still serve the main purpose."

Piett drank a little more, slurping.

"Besides," he spoke between sips over the rim of the glass, "You've killed men in the past. Noone of his position, granted. But I have more than a little faith in your abilities."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She glared up at him.

"And what if I don't do it."

[Sean Piett]

"Well," Piett said, drumming his fingers on the side of the glass. "I won't go too far into detail. Safe to say I'll enjoy it a hell of a lot more than you will."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"Oh is that so?"

The Lupine stood, sauntering over to where Piett stood, and once more she gently plucked her glass from his hand, a cheshire cat's grin on her lips.

"Do please go into detail; - I'm rather curious now, and tempted to say no out of simple spite."

[Sean Piett]

Stepping in a little closer to her, Sean dangled his fingers into the glass, wetting his fingertips. He took them out, and flecked a bew beads of whiskey in her face.

"Well," he began. He made a V with the index and middle fingers of his right hand and levelled it at her eyes. "I'd take your pretty silver eyes. I don't know what I'd do with them, really. I'm not too imaginative. Then, I'd take your hair. Don't really have any plans for that, either. Make a hairdoll, maybe? I'm just thinking out loud here. Then I'd take you back to Omerose. Maybe even the same room. The sentiment doesn't mean much to me, but maybe you'd 'preciate it. I'd put you on hooks.

"A long time ago, I was brought into the Royal Guard. As part of my training, I took up a martial art. Echani. It mostly involved long, narrow knives." He reached behind his back and pulled two long, supple blades out. "Much like these. Anyhow, you get the picture. I'm pretty old fashioned at heart.

She stood defiant, her face much unchanged. "But you aren't one to be intimidated. I'm just trying to satisfy your curiosity. And, of course, the act of capturing you might be an issue.." His voice trailed off.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"A little sadistic, aren't we," she muttered, wiping the drops of liquor from her face as her eyes fell on the blades he now held.

"I seem to find myself in quite the spot." The Lupine turned, taking a few steps away from him to put a little distance between the two. "On one hand, I can accept, do your job, and in return earn the wrath of the Sovereignty, or I can turn you down, and earn myself an apparent ticket to some private hell that you'd no doubt love to oversee."

Her back remained to Piett, and s'Il took a small sip from the glass.

"I should have known you wouldn't just bop in, and say 'hi'."

A sigh. "I don't rightly think I can do this for you."

The Lupine turned back to face him then, spreading her arms. "It's just against my nature. I can't work for you - where would my principles be?"

She raised her glass, pointing her index finger at him then. "Out the window, that's where."

[Sean Piett]

Scratching his chin, perturbed, Piett gazed rather hard at the carpet. Then, up at her.

"So, there's nothing I can do to change your mind."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She stared at him, almost incredulous. "Does it mean nothing to you that I have a reputation to uphold here?"

Before he could say a word though, the Lupine canted her head,once again wagging a finger at him, "No no, don't answer that. I don't need to hear any smart little thing you have to say to that." She took a quick drink before stepping up to him, her movements swift and smooth.

The glass was set roughly on the table as she stood her ground, and with a sudden movement, s'il snaked a hand out, snatching one of the blades Piett held. She lifted it up so that it was between their faces.

"If the threat of being stuck through and hung with these things isn't enough to sway me, I doubt there's much else you could say to me that would change my mind."

With the flat side of the blade, she slapped it unexpectadly against his forehead.

"Savvy???"

[Sean Piett]

Sean blinked as the blade hit him lightly, and opened his eyes widely at her. He took in a breath, then narrowed them at her. He took a minute before responding at all. When he did, he did so as quickly as he knew how.

With impressive speed, the ambassador slipped his blade down and pressed the tip against her stomach, drawing some small bit of blood. With his free hand, he grabbed and squeezed the hand that she held her own knife in. Holding the knife to her stomach and planting his feet into the ground, he attempted to wrestle the knife from her. He knew she could easily bite him, or kick and punch, but he hoped that the knife poking her midriff might.. dissuade her.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

With a slight gasp of surprise, the Lupine let her eyes grow wide as she felt a sting of air hit this new wound. She wasn't exactly expecting him to do what he did, though in hindsight she should have. His hand on her wrist, trying to wrestle the knife from her grasp was tight, and s'Il ground her teeth as she felt the bones, muscles, and tendons being crushed in his grip.

Her other hand shot out then, and she wrapped her fingers around his neck. Hooked like talons, she let her hand begin to change - feeling as the muscles reformed over restructuring hand bones. Fingers broadening, she felt as razor sharp claws seemed to unsheath themselves, and narrowing her eyes, s'Il tightened her grip.

She growled at him, craning her neck and standing on her toes. She felt his blade cut through more skin as she moved, but she'd achieved what she wanted - the two were now nose to nose.

"Do you hate me enough to gut me in my own home," she hissed, "... even if it's on the capital world of your political enemy?"

[Sean Piett]

Piett snarled at her, breathing quickly and heavily. With a grunt, he tightened his grip on her hand. He found, however, that she met force with force, as she crushed his throat as he crushed her hand. Blood trickled down his neck, and he found his breath raspy and hard to pull in. Testing the waters, he released some of the stress on the fist she held her own knife with. Shortly after, she loosened her own grip slightly.

But she could tear out his throat just as he pushed the blade into her stomach.

With a slight lurch, he leaned in until his forehead was touching hers. "I would gladly gut you and hang you from the steeple of the capital building itself, if you'd only let me." He glared at her, breathing as deeply and quickly as her grip allowed.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The Lupine met him stare for stare; glower for glower, refusing to back down. Her eyes held a mix of tawny yellow mingled with metallic glints, and her expression hardened as she finally spoke.

"You've got some cojones to come into my home and threaten me - and in some ways I can respect that. I'd do the same if I was in your situation. I suppose it is rather hard to see someone you hate do so well for themselves; someone who you deemed unable and unfit to live with humans living peacefully with them.

"I bet that eats you up inside, doesn't it?

"However, I've been nothing but civil with you from the time you showed up in my workshop -

" - until now."

And rearing her head back, she slammed it forward once more, headbutting him viciously while in the same motion bringing her hand/paw from his neck. With extended claws, s'Il swiped at the side of his face, leaving four diagonal red lines in their wake as she pulled as far away from him as she could given that he still had a grip on her wrist. She felt the tip of his blade pull from her midriff though, and with her free hand she prepared to deflect it should he try to use it on her.

She glared at him giving a grim smile as she watched slight trickles of blood begin to seep from his fresh wounds.

"Something to remember me by, you egotistical son of a bitch."

[Sean Piett]

More shocked than hurt, Piett immediately reached up and grabbed his face with his hand holding the knife. The flesh was raw, bleeding like a slit throat. Gasping, he poked at the cuts with his index, holding the stiletto-thin blade daintily with his other four fingers. He wriggled one finger through his cheek and felt it in his mouth. He couldn't taste it trough the copious, coppery blood. He exhaled, mouth open, and the red stuff dribbled down his chin like 'psgetti. He didnt speak.

Determined, he jiggled the index out again and clenched his fist around the simple handle. He gripped her hand as tightly as he could without the Force, and reached his right leg around and behind her, a tripping block. As deftly and solidly as he could, he jammed his knuckled squarely into her forehead. He numbly felt her clawing at him, but pain was shrugged off and wounds were an afterthought. The brunt of his punch found its way.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

With a surprised gasp, the Lupine lost control of her localized shift and her hand reverted back to its' human form as she reeled from his blow. Her wrist still in his hand, she dropped to her knees as stars had seemed to explode into her vision.

Her free hand came up then, holding her drooped head in the effort to alleviate the sudden pain.

She was motionless in his hold for a few seconds, then let her hand drop to rest at an odd angle, and without a word she released the knife she was holding, letting it drop to the ground. It bounced once, and with her free hand she scooped it up.

Her arm cocked back, ready to drive the knife through his left foot...

[Sean Piett]

Stooped, and dripping blood on the floor, Piett held onto her hand like it was all he had. She'd cut up his arm quite professionally as he hit her, and the pain from his cheek was throbbing. Taking a half second to blink out a matching pair of tears, the lithe man almost didn't see her scoop up and drive the knife into his foot.

Opening his eyes to a world of white pain, the Admiral inhaled suddenly and surprised. She'd jammed down, through bone and flesh and past the slight arch that held him aloft. Into the hardwood floor. Pinning him, almost.

Completely surprised, he yanked his foot up, throwing away her hand as she tried to keep him down. His legs stronger than her arms, he managed to pull away, but this action ripped his foot more than her thrust.

Reacting as quickly as he could, he pulled her up by her wrist partially. As she rose, he raised and struck down with his left foot, that which she'd just torn through. Deliberately, he put what energy he had into striking her right cheekbone, right above the jawline and to the side of the nose. As he kicked his blood-drenched heel at her, he weakly let go of her hand.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

A shocked yelp escaped her lips as his bloodied foot crashed into her cheekbone. With his grip on her wrist released, the Lupine let herself fall back in pain, laying on the floor unmoving - the only indication that she lived being that of her chest rhythmically rising and falling deeply. There was a new gash on the side of her face, and blood seeped out to mingle with that of his own which had come from his booted foot. His booted - and stabbed - foot.

A satisfied smirk, then her eyes opened to look up at him.

"My wounds will heal faster than yours," she coughed.

[Sean Piett]

Piett turned his head and spat blood into the whiskey glass on the table next to him. The blood floated idly on top of the whiskey, like vegetable oil mixed with water. Then, he looked back to her.

"You haven't won anything," he muttered. Then, he nodded to the knife she held. "Except maybe that."

Seeing her sprawled on the floor, as harmless as he himself was, he pulled his shirt off over his head. He gathered it in the crook of his left arm.

"I'll be seeing you soon."

With that said, he limped to the door, holding onto the walls as he lurched. He paused at the doorframe as she spoke a few parting words, supporting himself on the lintel. He thought for a minute on what she'd said and what had happened, and then moved forward. He hoped very much his speeder was waiting outside.

[R. S. Esalis]

The office of R. S. Esalis - High Inquisitor of the Imperial Sovereignty

From the inside of her office, the High Inquisitor R. S. Esalis smiled to herself - a smile of satisfation that knew no bounds. She had neg;ected to remove the surveillance equipment from Loklorien s'Ilancy's home as per Grand Admiral Desaria's orders, and now she had just been rewarded. Magnificiently.

She had the means to drive the Lupine from Desaria's good graces, and she would take what she had been given with open arms.

The monitor that sat recessed in her desk had stopped playing, the encounter between the Duchess and the Ambassador a particularly entertaining piece.

Even regardless of whether s'Ilancy had refused, it would be easy to doctor the recordings.

And Loklorien s'Ilancy would soon be wishing she had registered. In fact, she would soon be wishing she had never heard of the Sovereignty.

[Sean Piett]

In his shuttle orbiting Thyferra, Piett was just gaining consciousness. The light was dim, and he could barely make out his hand as he held it in front of his face. Drugged, the Ambassador couldn't feel anything as he brushed his hand across the bactapatch sprawled over half his face. And lying there, he couldn't help but think of a song he'd heard.



Waking up zeroed in on medicine
Am I waking up at all today?
Seeing lights, feeling pain
There's my cure on ice
I can walk but I will crawl there
I will crawl there

Sitting straight, feeling faint
An exhausted smile screens my words
But I will hear them
Here's a phrase that we all know
But I can't make sense
I don't know words but I will hear them
I still hear them

Never ran away for the sake of scars
Tried not to move but she was armed
And shots were fired
Now a hole in the head of this wounded liar
Never had a drink that I didn't like
Got a taste of you, threw up all night
I got more sick