What is left of good intent

[Dorian Argenus]

Nar Shaddaa
Residential District L09427

Dorian stood in the wreckage of his ramshackle apartment in the run-down tenant building. It looked even more like a location of ill-repute now that someone had tossed the place, his sparse belongings strewn across the stained berber carpet. A slim cheroot hung between his lips and a steady stream of charcoal hued smoke drifted up into the air, floating languidly before his narrowed silver-hued eyes. With his tattoo covered arms crossed over his chest, his combat boot clad foot tapping rhythmically against the cracked tile in the foyer, he surveyed the damages with a slow-spinning storm of pure rage building momentum within his chest.

Before he'd packed the medical examiner he'd been interrogating on a one way trip to Tatooine, he'd managed to pry some valuable information from his quivering lips. Landis Orthro, a Senior Lieutenant of the Galactic Empire, was on planet and responsible for executing orders involving his former caretakers. It was a corner piece to the puzzle, one that he hoped would promote some leads to this seemingly never ending quest of his. Red disparaged the obsession but it had been his whole life, even before she came strolling along to throw a righteous wrench in his not very well laid plans. Even with obstacles resembling a very attractive red-head in his path, his resolve had not floundered. Getting close to Orthro wasn't going to be easy but he'd manage somehow.

His comm began buzzing and he casually fished the device from his back pocket, raising it to his mouth. "Yes?"

"It's Orik. I called in that favor you asked for. She's going to meet you at The Palazzo. She's got her work cut out for her but I think she can get you presentable enough to meet this Landis guy."

Considering how incredibly pissed off he was, he couldn't even muster that carefree veneer; not even for Orik. "Copy that. Who am I looking for?" He asked brusquely.

"She said she'd find you. You're hard to miss. Try not to get arrested, would you?"

The link clicked to signify that his contact had terminated the call and Dorian stuffed the comm back into his pocket. One last pull off of his narco-cigarra and he threw the stem to the ground, grinding it beneath his boot. Whoever this broad was, she'd better be prepared. She had a date with disaster.

[Maggewetok]

Aliens of nearly every size, color and type that ever worked for a Hutt were represented at the Palazzo. Music pumped from a nearby club whose facade was adorned with holograms of scantily clad Twi'lek girls and seemed to be drawing the crowds. Though most of those she knew were there for other reasons like business. It seemed to be the cliche' area for criminal types to meet, especially on Nar Shaddaa. Maggewetok had been here almost two hours now and once her things had been situated in the nearby hotel, the casually dressed and well armed agent made her way to the large, open air square surrounded by two levels of shops, stalls and centered by an immense golden Hutt seated on his hover lounger. Subtlety was definitely not one of their strong suits, she mused with amusement.

"Got the best armor types here," the Sullustan announced to anyone that would listen, then turned his large black orbs to the approaching, dark haired human female. "Every major armorer company represented. You look like you could use something more than that leather jacket."

Maggie smiled, "Oh?" Curious now, she approached his large stall and acted interested knowing she had no idea how long it would take for her contact to arrive. Sighing, hazel eyes danced from one chestplate to the next, all well cleaned and polished. None seeming to have any previous damage either, which was also a good selling point. But, all of it too heavy and cumbersome for someone that liked to be agile and on the move. Especially when Stormtroopers or ISB agents were on her tail. "Do have a nice collection, but I'm not a mercenary or bounty hunter and I certainly don't have the credits."

He nodded, deflated at the comment. "Well," he continued, moving to a large drawer underneath the hanging sets, and opened it revealing smaller items ranging from concealed knives to small wrist launchers and flamers. "Can't be too prepared," he suggested, grinning.

Unbelievable. "Where do you get most of your stuff?"

"Oh, here and there."

"Hmm," she nodded with some interest, though had no intentions of spending any money right now. Scanning the various stairwells and shops, she wanted to be sure that he had arrived and she hadn't missed him already.

[Dorian Argenus]

The district harboring The Palazzo was not unfamiliar to Dorian. In fact, he knew quite a few shopkeepers on the promenade that would probably hide behind their stalls when they saw him coming. He was owed a lot of favors and what he could call in from their selection of wares could put a serious dent in their profits; an even larger one in public property. The only favor he was interested in, fortunately for them, was the one Orik had called in. Some broad in the crowd was going to get him close to Landis and everything else, it was just background noise.

He was clad in a simple black t-shirt that conformed to his chiseled musculature, black pants tucked into his combat boots, with a blaster belt slung carelessly across his hips. A narco-cigarra was tucked behind one ear and a silver ring gleamed in the other, his lips holstering a toothpick that he idly chewed on as he took the stairway down to the lower level. His wolfish grey eyes scanned the make-shift market's patrons and finally came to lock upon the eyes of a woman who also seemed to searching for something, someone.

He reached up to scratch the fringes of a long scar that ran from above his right eyebrow to below along his cheek in a distinctly vertical slice. He canted his head toward a stand alone set of chairs posed before a round top table, sliding the cigarra out from behind his ear and hocking the toothpick into a distant trash can. Once he was tucked into the alcove, he forewent the seat and leaned against the adjacent wall, cupping his hand around the stem and lighter he had brandished to light it.

His eyes darted up to track her progress, the amber glow emitted from the lighter giving his gaze a dangerous gleam. Then, he released the fuel lever and slid the item back into his pocket.

[Maggewetok]

Recalling the face given to her by her contact, Maggie recognized the human male descending the otherwise busy stair, then turned her attention back to the vendor who seemed rather determined that she buy something. "I'll be back," she relayed, moving from the long counter that fronted his stall and drifted into the crowd before he could protest. Meandering through passersby, mostly made up of mercenaries either alone or escorting a gorgeous Twi'lek female adorned in a complimentary dress. Grinning at those she deemed worthy, the obvious trophy of some crimelord here continued ignoring everyone else.

Hazel eyes also watched the crowd, seeking out that one or two individuals keeping an eye on Dorian and once she was satisfied that he hadn't been followed or was being surveilled in his alcove, she moved to join him at the small table. Others relaxing from a busy day of gambling or double-crossing their associates, she noted a band finishing their last set under the shadow of the immense golden Hutt. Glancing to her fellow agent, she grinned as the lithe Saami from Belsavis claimed a stool to his left, keeping her back to the wall as well.

"Interesting how some things never change," she began, motioning with her eyes to the other tables. "Men sitting and sharing stories while their female companions spend all their money in the shops." Grinning, she leaned in and sighed, tapping the button to order a drink. Sifting through the variety of choices, catering to the host of alien races that frequented Smuggler's Moon, she finally chose a Bespin Port and then relaxed once more. "Our mutual friend's having a party at his private estate tonight at seven," she informed. "And, he was nice enough to send you an invite." Holding out her datapad toward him, the screen revealed the fancy invitation offering a night to remember.

"But, first we're going to have to spend some money," her hazel orbs motioned to his outfit.

[Dorian Argenus]

A plume of smoke escaped his lips, forming a channel of charcoal-hued rings that slowly floated through the air some feet away from her. His gaze followed the line of her own, taking in the men loitering nearby and then the women several yards away at the vendors. Then, as she bent over the table to order her drink, his gaze returned to her; dipping down across her back, the swell of her hips, and then her legs, slipping away after she had decided on her drink.

He stepped forward at the mention of their mutual friend, extending a hand to accept the datapad with the embellished holo-invitation. The kind of gathering he wouldn't be caught dead at, the kind of place he would stick out like a sore thumb in. He lofted a brow, his gaze darting back to her and then dipping down to his lackluster clothing that she seemed to hone in on.

"You don't mean..." He trailed off, handing her back the datapad and then scrubbing a hand back through his spiky, brunette hair. "You do. All right, well... I'll leave myself in your capable hands. Dorian, by the way. I suppose I should have your name too, since you're trying to get me out of my clothes. Although, it isn't strictly necessary."