Twit and Repartee

[Gantuhar]

The droid-human-thing seemed put out, or at least being poked wasn't exactly what he or it liked, so Gantuhar brought his poking finger back, arm going to his side as his other hand stuffed the glorious Madame's gift into the waiting breast pocket of his unbuttoned shirt.

"This One is on his way to the Teahouse if you would like to join the walk."

Still somewhat skeptical, the Trianii couldn't help but continue his scrutinizing gaze.

"If one such as you is agreeable to that."

[Arvel Felcher]

Before Arvel's lip could curl in disdain, he considered the plausible deniability of it all. This talking shag smelled faintly but insistently like old fish food. Whatever residual unpleasantness from the previous shit pile that remained on the sole of his Itroskian cavalry boots could easily be explained away by a more clear and present stink.

"It turns out that one such as myself is agreeable, I think."

[Gantuhar]

Such a curious thing, Gantuhar figured. The towering felinoid hesitated for only a few scant moments before stepping back and turning on a bare heel.

"Then you will come with This One."

Moving forward then, he stepped past the Navyman and pushed into the sea of people on the main drag of the merchant's concourse. It was a bustling promenade, and always one could hear the voices of beings trying to haggle down prices, or sellers insisting on being firm in their asking costs. Others called out to potential customers, speaking of the tastiest kaadu kabobs, or the most beautiful of Chandrilan silks, the brightest gems set in goldstone, ancient relics from the old days of the earliest years of whatever civilization ever head of, intricately carved trinkets for good luck... it was a cacophony of voices all vying for attention.

A particularly lithe Twi'Lek woman appeared out of seemingly nowhere, clad in gentle silks and scarves that accentuated her curves and the light violet hue of her skin. Her lekku had been artfully wrapped in beaded strings with glittering stones and whisps of dangling charms.

"Gantuhar, my dearest le'ami," she purred while sidling up to his bulk. Slender fingers of one hand reached up to wind into the wild fur tufts of his exposed chest. She cast a half-look to the human on the side, but it wasn't long before her gaze went back to the Trianii.

"I 'ave new potions for ze lovemaking, to keep ze great one een 'ees prime for all of ze night, yes?"

For his part, Gantuhar welcomed the close contact, and he wrapped a single arm around his good friend.

"Oh Sweet Cavrasiella, This One needs no help to keep the love alive for all of the night," he rumbled happily as he swept her along on the way to a large open doorway that marked the entrance to a small part of the hospitality sector. In truth, it was a sector of the station that spanned more than one level, but butting up against the merchant sector made the most sense for the many travelers who wished to have a bit of a rest from their shopping and bargain hunting.

It was also where the teahouse was located, easily accessible and inviting to any and all.

"This One is going to the teahouse, with the Navyman, here," a gesture to the human at his left, "... perhaps he could use your potions?"

[Cavrasiella La Fonte]

Draped over Gantuhar like one of her own fine silks, Cavrasiella La Fonte gave a second look to the human. He had... a look about him. He also had a heavy scent of cologne spilling outward, roiling over itself to announce his presence.

Cavra scrunched up her nose at the smell. She dealt with medicines and potions, and enjoyed the sort of status afforded by such wares. She sold charms as well, but her more popular sellers were the concoctions for calming sleep, sexual stamina, and a mixture that seemed to heighten a body's tactile sensations. These she made many different versions of, and there were more than a few on Jovan that paid her a decent amount of credits for her mixtures.

She at least maintained a genial demeanor when regarding the human.

"A Navyman," she spoke, as Gantuhar continued to lead the trio toward the doorway leading to the hospitality sector.

"Zere are lots of you boys here. You are perhaps on leave, zen? Or perhaps wiss ze new posting?"

[Arvel Felcher]

At being called out, Arvel clicked his boot-heels audibly, giving a nod. That was part gilded formality, and part to deal with the sudden wrenching anxiety that came from a Twi'lek like that taking (or feigning) an active interest in him. The second-or-so of protocol would, in theory, allow cooler heads to prevail - or at least one of them. As he ascended from his nod, he prepared his reply. Well yes, beautiful. I've got a weekend pass and a mission to misbehave. It might be a difficult job. Always good to have a wing man, er - wing woman! But when he looked at her again, the suave scripting evaporated into pique. Arvel opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't form words. So to compensate, he smiled, which was more of a grimace. She...she asked a question. Nod. Nod!

Arvel nodded.

[Cavrasiella La Fonte]

His voice seemed to leave him at the most inopportune time, and Cavra leveled a strange look to him. This Alliance officer was like some sort of tightly-wound ball of feather yarn, like the sort that her own mother often used when sewing heavy fabrics.

Still she held close to Gantuhar.

"Zen, you are on leave and posted here?"

He looked like a shivering leaf, about to be blown from a tree by the slightest of breezes. With that in mind, the Twi'Lek opted for another approach.

"Per'aps zen, since you are going to ze Tea House, you vould like one of my potions, yes?"

"She gave the man a sweet smile.

"I have one zat vill give you ze strength of a bantha."