Dressed To Kill

[Morgana DeLaTour]

"Be careful with that!" Morgana (http://www.speakerscorner.me/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/ashley11.jpg)'s voice boomed across the large exhibition hall, but she couldn't stand when helpers weren't attentionate with her delicate work. It infuriated her when she wasn't able to work with her usual assistants, but the Mayor of Demilla City had been adamant about how his people knew how to handle any artwork. The voluptuous brunette had tried to explain how Light Sculptures (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Light_sculpture) were very particular installations, but even as she talked to the point of being blue in the face, nothing had changed the damn man's mind and she had had to comply.

Obtaining an invitation to show her art in the Great Aloran Hall in one of the largest cities of her homeworld of Raltiir (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Raltiir), especially one devoted to cultural endeveaors was one big honor and she hadn't wanted to pass it up. Now she just hoped that her Light Sculptures would be properly set so nothing bad would happen. She hated the thought of seeing her hard work altered or destroyed. She had seen that happen in the past and knew that some people were just hopeless, regardless whether they meant well or not.

"Miss DeLaTour! The reporters are here!" Morgana growled lowly and climbed down the scale she had been perched on to have a better view. Of course, being dressed for said upcoming interview wasn't the most practical for such things but she had learned a long time ago to make do. "Tell them I will meet them at the Solar Café in ten minutes." The townhall's assistant tried to say something else but she raised a commanding finger. "Ten minutes." The other woman nodded and scampered off.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Two hours later, Morgana felt like she needed a drink and a strong one at that. She was a social butterfly and loved her philantropic work besides the rest of her career. Yet, she abhorred interviews. She disliked idiots of all kinds but it always felt as if journalism attracted the worst and dumbest people. And the gods knew that the galaxy counted way too many morons. The few times she had accepted to answer to some questions from scientific reporters about her mathematician work, she had hoped that the bar might be set a tad higher but had always been annoyed by the same-old-same idiocies she had had to put up with. As for art critics, they were often arrogant and so full of themselves, you'd think they were the real artists, when most if not all of them had as much creative talent as a drugged Gungan.

The last example she had just left regarding her exhibition in Demilla City was yet another blatant example. Save for earlier years in her career when fame had begun to pick up, she often pulled the mysterious artist card to avoid pretentious a-holes who didn't get the first thing about her work. She really wanted to strangle the damn mayor at this point, though sadly she wasn't able to. Of course, the thought of contacting her grandmother and see whether the Zeltron old lady was keen on hiring one of her bounty hunters to end that crazy man's life might be beautiful. Right now, Morgana would love a first row seat, or even being the one to pull the trigger. She had never taken a life herself, but she could shoot a blaster.

She took a deep breath as she trotted through the streets, trying to find a place to have the bloody drink she needed. At that time of the afternoon, most places weren't open yet, restoking for the huge festival that was opening that night, and for whose inauguration ceremony on the next morning, Morgana had accepted to show her Light Sculpture when the mayor would give some fancy talk about the success of the event.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Finally finding a place open, the Northern Shore, she made herself comfortable in a booth on the first floor. She ordered a champagne-based cocktail, not caring about how early the hour still was. She needed that, and with some dips to munch on while she was at it. Crossing her legs, she drummed her fingers on the table top as she awaited her order to arrive, which she hoped wouldn't take long as she was starving and needed to unwind after dealing with so many idiots in the past hours.

She suddenly heard her datapad buzz. Wondering what it might be, she checked the message and grinned. It was from her grandmother, Vilara, who was wondering whether she'd have time to make some side pick up and delivery during the festival. Morgana accepted and asked for a few more details. Her grandmother had a firm grip on the local criminal world and she didn't mind playing errand girl every once in a while. Though she'd do it for free to help her family, Vilara always came up with the most unique thank you gifts.

Nodding to the waiter - a cute one at that - who brought her order, she dug into the food after a very long sip from her drink, impatient to find about what her grandmother had in mind.

[Sheldon Esalis]

"You know, the cocktail lunch is a social dinosaur, but I think it's worth bringing back."

I made conversation with the brunette adjacent from my table, for lack of any better company. I was three stims down, two dry Bonterri's down, and looking at a spread of Oysters Valorum. I liked this place. This kind of stuff didn't age. It wasn't a fad. It was like finding an old high fidelity audio crystal, and listening to a song that was just as good as it was fifty years ago. I liked this place because, conventions be damned, the cocktail lunch was most certainly alive and well.

"Eating alone?"

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Morgana's attention was caught by the man's voice. Bright eyes flickered into his direction and she couldn't help grinning appreciately as she admired his good looks. That was one handsome specimen and she was picky. "Some dinosaurs are worth bringing back." She said with a wink, reaching her glass to him. She had almost downed the first one and knew that more would come. Almost half-Zeltron, she had inherited the second liver, which made her drinking life heaven. She had none of the telepathic goodness whatsoever. Her grandmother had told her how limited it was, but even like that, Morgana had none of it. As for the pheromones, well, she didn't really have them, but she was known to have a magnetic personality, amongst other things.

"I was. Until now." She added with a seductive smile, not minding at all an opportunity to flirt. "The question is, which one of us changes table?" She quirked a brow, letting him decide.

[Sheldon Esalis]

Pink was my new obsession.

Like I hadn't learned to spot that rouge a sector away. Okay, so who doesn't have a beach holiday story that involves a randy Zeltron girl, bottomless well drinks, a pair of dishwashing gloves, maraschino syrup, and her creepy housecat that sits at the corner of the bed because it likes to watch?

Zeltrons had a reputation for being easy and, haha, they totally are. But everyone says that like it's a bad thing. What's wrong with an easy game? That just means that you can put your initials in every slot on the high score list. Haha...slot.

She was drinking something with a fizz in a flute that wasn't just wine. It didn't match her color, so probably not a Kyr. I could see through it, which meant that she wasn't the usual early-drinking Ninosa crowd. And let's be completely frank, she didn't look like the kind of Zeltron that was into any of the aforementioned kink from aforementioned everyman's beach holiday. Considering her choice of venue, I'd peg her poison as a Mando'a 75, which an occasional idiot laughs off as a girl drink until he picks his dislocated jaw off the floor.

So, more or less, the game was a little more difficult than easy.

"Home court advantage, or ladies first. Whatever works."

I gestured to the open setting at my table for two, inviting her over.

"I always sit facing the door."

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Oh, she liked him. Her Zeltron relatives kept saying how she'd have been one epic flirt even without the extra genetic boost. She didn't go out to fish men, but if a fine one crossed her path, she wasn't going to leave him unnoticed. And the one in front of her seemed of the same build when it cames to the game of seduction. That could make things savory. She kept her attention on him as she awaited his answer. She was fine either way frankly, but his reaction would add to the knowledge she was gathering about him, wherever this situation would head to.

Right when the waiter brought her dish to her table, she raised her finger. "Hold that thought." She smiled to the waiter and gracefully rose from her seat, fetching her purse and her drink. With feline elegance, she close the short distance between the man's table and her own. Instead of sitting in front of him, she sat next to him. "I always do as well." She said dead serious, regarding sitting facing the door. That had been something ingrained in her by her grandmother, years of criminal work speaking when it came to Vilara.

The waiter seemed a bit confused but placed the plate before her and asked if she needed another drink. Finishing the last sip of the current one, she nodded which sent the man on her way. "Your accent isn't local." She observed before taking a bite from her dish, happy to finally put some food in her stomach too after the utterly annoying last hours.

[Sheldon Esalis]

"Well, obviously. I mean, point of egress plus a natural choke point for attacks by uh...Mandalorians or...whoever."

I frowned into my Bonterri, for lack of a better threat variable. Nevermind. She'd opted for sitting shotgun, which hadn't exactly been the plan. Of course, that meant no minor details like the table getting between us.

"Of course, it helps if you've got a good view."

Sunny outdoor cityscapes. Plunging strawberry necklines. Whatever. I clinked my glass to hers.

"Sheldon Esalis. And wow, good ear. Didn't think Corulag really sounded all that far from Ralltiir."

I figured my accent fell into the ship-setting core melange heard on all the decent planets in the Empire. You know, the ones with more than ten starports, easy access to a cordwainer, and entertainment rating higher than a pod tractor pull.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

She was curious about what he did in life, because always making sure to always sit facing the door implied a few possible things. "You never know when local scum might decide to be a pain." She remarked wryly after sitting by his side.

"Side views can be the best sometimes." She purred before winking at him, taking another sip from her drink.

"Well met. I am Morgana DeLaTour." She replied offering her hand.

"Corulag isn't that far but your speech is slightly lower pitched and slower than speaking rifles we can be here."

[Sheldon Esalis]

"Sounds like you've got a knack for tongues."

I glanced at her in sidelong, a smirk rising to my features as I took her offered hand.

[Morgana DeLaTour]

Morgana couldn't help grinning mischievously at Esalis's remark. "In many ways." She replied without hesitation or shyness, not caring how it could be interpreted.

She was about to say something else when someone approached the table. She recognized the man as one who had visited the center where she was organizing her exhibition.

"Miss DeLaTour?" She nodded to him. "Please pardon the interruption, but I was hoping if you could..." The stutter amused her as much as it annoyed her. Seeing him reach for a flimsy representing one of her latest Light Sculptures, she fetched her digital pencil and professionally smiled, before signing the requested autograph. "Here you go. Have a good day." The man was elated and scampered off close enough.

Returning her attention to the appetizing visitor by her side, she picked up the conversation where they had left it. "So, what brings you to Raaltiir?"