Kordath Bleu was miserable. It was early in the day and he was still just a bit hungover. Standing next to an enclosed speeder, one of three waiting in a line outside of the Giletta spaceport, he cringed as once more everything shook. It annoyed the Ryn that he couldn’t tell if that was another vessel entering or leaving the atmosphere of Selen, or more thunder to go along with the gray drizzle he was enduring. At least his robes had a hood, though he was so used to spending his time abroad on Clan business that the garment almost felt foreign. Despite the coverage he was still getting damp, his nose was cold and his tail was dripping. The Ryn shivered and cast a baleful glare at the sky.
Go and meet this important muckity muck, get her to the Citadel all safe and sound, Bleu. Oh yes this is very important, it really is! That’s why we’re sendin’ you. Don’t let anything bad happen to her.
“Important me tail, what’d I do to tick off the Shadow Lady now?” mumbled the Ryn, debating risking one of his precious cigarettes in the rain.
Kord was certain this was a punishment detail but for the life of him he couldn’t recall what he might have done to anger his superiors. This time. He must have slighted her somehow while they’d been out for a drink, it was possible he screwed up her chances with some girl or another. Or he stuck her with the tab again. Or he’d made a pass and for some reason didn’t have any scars to reference. No new ones, anyways. With another sigh he turned to face the entrance of the spaceport once more and glanced at his chrono. The delegation was late. Typical.
With sudden swiftness the doors of the terminal slid open and a quartet of soldiers came hurrying through, pushing aside valet droids and posting up outside. Kordath sighed, he’d known the delegate would have a military escort but he’d hoped the Odanite’s wouldn’t send proper jackboots. A pair of Bothans in nicely cut outfits followed, carrying bags and glowering at the weather. Kordath felt a moment of sympathy for the two, it didn’t matter how quick you were when it was raining. If you were as covered in hair as the Bothans and the Ryn were you were still going to smell like a Wookiee who’d been left out in the swamps of Naboo for a week when you got out of the rain.
Now the Ryn hadn’t really looked over the mission material that much, he had a tendency to ‘wing it’ and hope for the best. Things worked out for the best, usually. So the tall, slim and red haired Human female that strode out behind the servants and guards caused Bleu to temporarily forget the rain. And the hangover. And pretty much everything else as he let out a series of appreciative whistles from his fluted nose. High cheekbones and bright blue eyes completed the picture, though the Ryn absently noted the hair pulled back and put up. One of the Bothans hurried to keep up, pulling an umbrella from somewhere as the woman spotted the speeders.
As she closed in, Kordath panicked and tried to recall proper protocol. This woman was second to a planetary government that Arcona was in a tenuous and questionable alliance with. Sure, she wasn’t a Jedi, which meant she was likely easier to deal with and a lot more laid back, but she was still a bureaucrat of some kind. Or a diplomat, the Ryn was having trouble ordering his thoughts. She was also attired in some kind of dress that did a wonderful job of maintaining her modesty, going right up to her neck. It left her shoulders and arms exposed, which were rather pale. No, realized the Ryn, creamy, the word was creamy. The divided skirts that showed flashes of long legs weren’t helping his thought process. Falling back on the classics, Bleu bent low at the waist and placed his right hand behind his back.
“Welcome to Estle City, uhh, Miss Lyir,” he managed to get out without stuttering, “I’m, uhh, Bleu, Kordath Bleu, me Lady. I’m here to guide ya to the Citadel, yeah?”
“Miss Velescara, Master Bleu, do not think yourself so familiar with me as to use such personal names,” the woman responded with a sniff. Her accent screamed Core worlds, possibly Coruscant. Kordath cringed at the faux paus, he should have known better but the redhead was putting him far, far off his step.
“Course, sorry. And it’s just Bleu, I’m no Master yet,” he stated, straightening up and feeling his ears burn.
“Not a Master?” she asked, looking up and down his diminutive form, “Is this some sort of insult? I expected an Arconae to greet me, does your Clan think so little of New Tython?”
“Lady,” he stated bluntly, dropping all pretense, “you don’t want an Arconae greetin’ yah. Not everybody on this rock is happy your here, or what the Shadow Lady set up with you and yours. One of them dark cloaks would be more likely to find a way to make ya have an ‘accident’ on the way to the Citadel, eh?”
“I’m sorry, you think the most highly placed members of your own organization would attempt to harm me, a diplomat from an ally?” she asked, incredulity obvious in her tone.
“Look, don’t take it personal like, eh? They’re an old bunch. I got more faith in the young these days. Now please, Miss Velescara, get in the bleedin’ speeder so we can get out of the bloody rain?”
“Such crass language.”
“Oh don’t act like you’re not enjoying it ya high born pratt,” muttered the Ryn under his breath. One of the Bothans coughed, Kord noted the hairy crest of the man standing on end, his eyes wide.
Right, so that one has sharp ears, let’s not do that again, eh?
“Bags go in the back speeder, mate, this one don’t got the room, eh?” he stated, glaring at the Bothan. Kordath’s last encounter with one of the servant’s kind had been a bit more forceful and amorous than he’d like to recall. Leaving a Bothan knocked out and concussed in a mop closet always made a mission memorable, especially when said Bothan had thought the Ryn an ‘easy night’, whether Bleu liked it or not. “And you and your mate are in that one as well, this one’s for the Lady and a couple o’ guards, yeah?”
“Of course, Sir,” enunciated the servant, not bothering to hide his contempt of the Arconan.
Kord sighed and turned to find himself staring into the moustached and weathered face of one of said guards, standing far too close to him.
Bloody hell how did he creep up on me like that?
“Help ya mate?”
“Major Centon, my assault troopers are Lady Velescara’s personal guard for this mission. You’re the local liaison we’re working with then?”
The man’s clipped speech pattern and tone screamed military, and the way he projected caused the still slightly hungover Ryn to briefly wish for death. “Aye, that’s me, I’m Bleu. Now. Please. Can we get in the bleedin’ speeders and get out of the bloody rain?”
“This? You call this rain, boy? You’ve not experienced real rain until you’ve–”
“Please. Stop. Just get in the bleedin’ speeder so we can get this over with, please mate, please?”
Centon huffed and shook his head, gesturing to another one of the armor clad guardsman to get in on the other side, before loading himself into the vehicle. Bleu sighed and climbed inside as well, noting the sniffs and looks of distaste as the aroma of wet Ryn filled the space.
Bugger ‘em. They’d been on time I wouldn’t be soaked to the bone.
“Road should be clear, Mister Bleu, fifteen minutes to the Citadel,” came a voice from the front.
“Oi, thanks Carnid, try and keep it smooth eh? Wouldn’t want to rumple the Lady more than necessary.”
“Roger that, Sir, no rumpling.”
“Smartass,” muttered the Ryn.
“I’m quite capable of handling some rough riding, Mister Bleu,” stated the diplomat in a flat tone.
Kordath just clenched his jaw and tried not to look at her, even if the two soldiers in the speeder seemed to be grinning at him. This was going to be a long fifteen minutes.
He hated being right. A delivery truck had ignored or simply not seen one of the security barricades that had been set up to keep the speeder convoy’s path clear to the Citadel. Of course the pair of guards working that barricade had opened fire on the truck because bored soldiers need things to shoot at from time to time. So now there was an overturned truck, a dead delivery driver, and product all over the roadway. The trio of drivers for the convoy were working out a new route with security while Lady Velescara sat staring at Bleu with a look of dissatisfaction and contempt.
Bleu wasn’t sure what annoyed him more, that the simple drive had been buggered up, or that the look she was giving him was one he was far too familiar with. Looking out the window he noticed the rain had finally let up and signs of sunlight could be seen through the gray clouds as they broke up. Grumbling to himself the Ryn popped open the door of the speeder, much to the alarm of the two guards inside the vehicle and got out. Patting himself for a moment, he produced a pack of cigarettes and a matchbook, leaning against the wet speeder he lit one up and took a drag. As he blew the smoke up into the air, staring at the sky he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.
First came a long, pale leg quickly followed by the rest of the delegate. She sniffed the air and looked around, noticing the growing crowd of onlookers beyond the barricade. Street theater at work, figured Kordath, shaking his head. Every city had that sort, something interesting happened and people wanted to see just so they could say later that they’d been there. On a whim the Ryn offered his pack to the fiery haired woman who surprisingly took one without a pause. Trying to avoid shaking, telling himself it was due to being soaked, surely, the Arconan struck a match and lit it for her.
“Apologies and such, Lady, figures somethin’ like this would happen when I’m just tryin’ to get ya to a meetin’.”
The way she arched her brow at him caused him to twitch as he felt a chill run down his spine, this woman was dangerous in her own way. “You believe this to be your fault somehow, Mister Bleu?”
“The universe has a cruel sense of humor, Lady, and I tend to be a punchline.”
That got a short laugh out of her, which ended in what sounded like a snort as she cut it off. This time Kordath raised his eyebrows and gave her a look, which was returned with a glare of unspoken ‘Not a word you little Sleemo.’
With a sigh he turned to where the drivers were talking to a member of the city’s police force, who were working to set up another route, “Oi! Can’t we just clear the bloody truck and keep going?”
“We need a tow vehicle or something to do that, My Lord.”
“Bollocks, let me take a crack at it, get it pushed out of the way in a gyp I will,” stated the Ryn, feeling oddly confident. As he rolled up his sleeves and moved forward, he realized what was happening. He was trying to show off to the bloody redhead. Hands held out before him he closed his eyes and focused on the truck, pushing out with the Force and willing it to get out of his way. It screeched as metal scraped against the road surface, slowly inching its way to the side of the street. Kordath growled as he felt the truck move, annoyed with how long this was taking. His annoyance turned to panic when he felt through the Force a sudden spike of aggression from nearby.
Seconds later the first blaster bolts flashed in, peppering the speeder convoy and cutting down the drivers. Kordath turned, releasing his grip on the truck and dashing back towards the smoking diplomat, who was standing still in shock. With a dive he took her to the ground, receiving a sharp slap to the side of his head even as blaster fire gouged holes in the side of the speeder above him. The half dozen or so guards that had come with the delegate poured out of the convoy weapons at the ready, searching for the shooters. Kordath did some quick math, glancing up at the nearby buildings.
“Roofs! They’re on the bleedin’ roofs!” he shouted, pushing himself to his feet and grabbing Velescara’s hand. “Up we go, Lady, we gotta get the frak out of here!”
“But shouldn’t we stay with the…”
“Stay with what? The soldiers who are sittin’ out in the open, gettin’ picked off?” he shouted back while pulling on the woman’s hand. “This way, now!”
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“Woman, this is my bloody city, I know where I’m goin’,” snarled the Ryn as he pushed her through a shop doorway. The smell of burned ozone and burnt wood accompanied them as blaster fire rained on the business front. “There’ll be a backdoor into an alley, we cut through that and into the loadin’ bay two lots up.”
“Have you had to do this before or something, Mister Bleu?” she asked with suspicion.
Kordath shrugged, “One, Lady, drop the Mister bit it takes too long, gonna get one of us shot. Two, the back routes and the like are always quicker, yeah? Besides I, umm, wake up in funny places at times.”
“Wait, what?” she said in confusion “What does that even mean?”
Bleu stuck his head out the back door, looking around with both his eyes and the Force. The sound of fighting could still be heard but it was petering off, the attackers might have thought they were still in the store. Cautiously the Arconan lead the diplomat out the door and down the alley at a quick walk. Kordath was surprised to not hear any complaints about the smells of sights of the back alley but the Human was being pretty quiet. The Ryn tried to remind himself that somebody born of such high standing probably had at least a courtesy training in surviving situations like this.
He let out a sigh of relief when he spotting the loading bay door open, a few stockboys gathered outside having a smoke and listening to the blaster fire with interest.
“Hey, Bleu! What’s going on man?”
“Oh ya know, fireworks. How’s kicks Desp?”
“Fireworks my arse, and ya know, can’t complain.”
“How do those people even know you?” asked Velescara as she gave the Ryn another odd look.
“Wot? I’ve lived here a few years, luv, ya get to know people,” the Arconan replied in a flippant manner as he lead her through the backroom area filled with shelves and pallets. They pushed through a set of cheaply made double doors to find themselves in the cooler section of the local supermarket. Kordath felt his palms itch as they passed the beer and wine, debating how long he’d have to hole up with this woman and if such a purchase was covered by mission funds.
“Why are you staring? I prefer the red, myself, if you’re planning on picking some up.”
Kord turned to stare at the woman’s blue eyes for a moment in surprise, “Rather partial to the reds meself.”
“Nothin’. Look, we might not make it to the Citadel today, gonna take ya somewhere we can lay low. So yeah, grab a bottle ya like and we’ll grab a bit of grub so I can cook somethin’ up while we wait for friends.”
“Friends?” she asked as she held a bottle up, inspecting the label. “Should we really be grocery shopping right now?”
“Last thing they expect, luv. Who stops when gettin’ chased by assassins to pick up some Gundark steaks and some potatoes? Isn’t natural, messes with their heads, that and people on the street are more likely to remember a Ryn and a Redhead runnin’ about rather than two folks buyin’ groceries, eh?”
She nodded, giving the Arconan a new look of appraisal. Kordath tried to not react, though he did feel a little bit proud of himself. This was one of the weirder ways he’d landed a date, even if he couldn’t call it that outloud. Still, dinner and drinks with a woman way out of his league was good enough. Gathering up what foodstuffs he needed to prepare an evening and morning meal they headed towards the front, the Ryn’s eyes roving over the supermarket crowd. As they checked out Bleu watched the wine come up as almost four times the amount of the food, and fought to keep his head from tracking over to stare at the delegate.
As they neared the front door of the market, Kord spotted Desp the stocker again and waved him down. Shrugging out of his robes, the Ryn handed them to him.
“Mate, I’ll be back for these, already, stow ‘em somewhere for me?”
“Sure, Bleu, no problem, but you owe me a few drinks later, alright?”
“You got it, savin’ me tail ya are,” stated the Ryn, as he handed off the bundle of cloth but kept his long purple sash. “As for you, Lady,” he held up the sash, which she eyed with disdain.
“It smells like wet Wookiee, what do you expect me to do with this?”
“Oi! It only stinks cause you lot were late, alright. Now wrap up that hair of yours, it’s to easy to spot.”
“And a Ryn in the crowd isn’t?”
“Look, I’d prefer to watch ya walkin’ about with it out, I’m a fan of the color, the shape, the…” Kord trailed off as he realized what his mouth was doing. “I mean, uhh, it’s bright, it’s noticeable. I’m a known around here, nobody notices the bloody Ryn anyways.”
“Your logic is sound, though I question your sanity, Mister Bleu,” the woman stated, wrapping the sash up around her head until only her eyes were peeking out. Kord tried not to notice that just made her eyes all the more interesting to him.
“Right. I got a safehouse set up a few blocks from here,” he began to say before being interrupted, again.
“Why do you…I’m sorry, I seem to just keep asking you questions. You were assigned to secure my safety and that’s all you’ve done, I’ve been difficult and I apologize.”
Kordath stumbled and did his best not to lose the groceries before turning to her in shock. The squint around her eyes suggested she was…not smiling. Grinning. She was making fun somehow, but her words sounded genuine.
“Not yer fault, lass, nobody keeps their head straight when this kinda crap goes down.”
“You seem too.”
“Lady people been shootin’ at me since I was thirteen, ya get over it after a while. ‘Sides this is a bit my fault, I’d been payin’ attention instead of tryn’ to move the bloody truck I mighta caught it before it started,” he said sheepishly.
“You believe you could have, what, sensed the attack?”
Kord took a deep breath, his eyelids fluttering for a moment as he cracked his neck to the side. “That shop to our right? Two brothers workin’ together, I can feel their resentment for one another, but neither one of them knows that the other one doesn’t wanna work their. But their parents ran the joint and they feel obligated. To our left, the old store that’s all boarded up? There’s….six kids in there making it on their own. Not a one over fifteen, but they’re far better off taking care of one another than they ever was with their parents. Down the road a ways is, oh, oh poodoo. Off the road,” he hissed, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her into a doorway with his back to the road. “Don’t look at ‘em to close, but don’t act like they’re not there.”
“Okay, but what, oh.”
A group of four men in tactical gear came running down the street, blaster carbines in hand. They didn’t seem to be looking to hard for anyone and seemed more interested in covering ground but the pair didn’t take any chances. Kordath strained his senses but couldn’t tell if they were part of the group that had attacked them or local security. Having his senses enhanced this close to Lyir was causing him some issues when it came to focusing. As it was he’d bowed his head a bit to hide his own features and snuck his tail up to his front so it wasn’t as noticeable, but he wasn’t sure when his hand had ended up on her hip as he pushed her into the doorway. It was warm and she wasn’t complaining but Bleu felt very self conscious again, this woman was going to be the death of him if he couldn’t focus.
“Ahem, they’re gone.”
“Mister, I mean, Bleu, they’re gone.”
“Oh, uh, right, yeah let’s keep moving.”
“So you really could feel them coming, hmm. Why did you try and move the truck, it would have been just as easy for a tow truck to move it, yes?”
Kord walked silently for a few minutes before finally glancing up at the woman, his ears nearly as red as her hair. “Truth? Let me ego get the best of me, heh.”
The Ryn coughed, and tried to derail the conversation, “What about you? What’re you doin’ playin’ diplomat?”
“Playing?” she asked, coldly.
“Just sayin’, you’re, well, be honest with ya, shouldn’t you be doin’ holo-dramas or magazines or somethin’?”
“Are you suggesting I’m too attractive to be a diplomat?” she asked, her coldness shifting to amusement. “You don’t think that gives me an advantage at the negotiation table?”
“Just distractin’ is all,” mumbled the Arconan as he lead them around a corner to the backside of an apartment building. “This is us, Lady, most of the neighbors know me, they’re trustworthy. Done some things for them here and there, won’t nobody find us here.”
Kordath pulled a key from his pocket and opened an apartment door, holding it open with a little bow for the diplomat who shook her head in amusement. The so-called safe house had a lived in look and was surprisingly cozy.
“Safe house? Is this your apartment?”
“It’s one of ‘em,” admitted the Ryn with a shrug, “I like the neighborhood and it’s not far from the Tipsy Rancor.”
“I assume that’s a bar?”
“That a problem, luv? Take ya there sometime when people aren’t tryin’ to murder ya, eh?”
“Perhaps, it’s always good to see how a people enjoy themselves to better understand a place.”
“That’s a bit analytical, don’t ya think?” asked the Arconan as he unloaded the groceries and searched for a corkscrew, he knew he had one…somewhere.
“Is there a refresher back here?” came Lyir’s voice from further into the apartment. “No offense, but the smell from your sash is getting to be a bit much.”
“Yeah yeah, down the hall, through the bedroom,” he shouted, as he started his stove.
Gods I hope security finds us by mornin’ or this is gonna get awkward real fast.
“Well that smells good, I guess you can cook,” came the aristocratic voice from behind Bleu. He knew she was in the room but he’d been focusing on not burning the pair of steaks. As the Ryn turned to present her a plate he nearly dropped them. “Sorry, I hung my dress up to air out, you mind me using one of your robes?”
Now she’s just karkin’ with me head, thought the Arconan as he took in the redhead before him. The height difference was becoming incredibly apparent as he took in the robed form, her still damp hair sticking to her neck. Keeping his eyes firmly up around the woman’s fair face, trying very hard to not focus on just how short his bathrobe was on the diplomat, he nodded. “That’s, uhh, that’s fine. Uhh, dinners ready, got the wine open as well, let it breath and all that, eh?”
“Oh, lovely. Though your dining options are somewhat lacking, I suppose we could use the couch?”
“I’ll stand,” squeaked out Bleu. He caught the little grin Lyir had on her face as he started to eat, taking large drinks of wine to cover his reactions.
“By the way…I saw a holo image in your room back there, I wasn’t poking around or anything mind you.”
“Uhh, yeah, wait, what?”
“It was a smiling little Miralian girl, why would you even have that?” she asked, her tone guarded.
“Ah, Liri. She sent me that after she got settled, she’s somewhere on the planet.”
“Liri? Friend of yours?”
“What are ya implyin’ lass? Liri was part of one of my last jobs of escortin’ somebody, kinda like you. Good kid, lost her dad to some bastard of a slaver who was usin’ her as leverage, we got her out so she could tell us where he had his stashes of tech and such. DIA set her up somewhere with some foster parents, last I heard she was doin’ alright.”
“You helped a group of agents save a little girl?”
“Not really, agents that got her out got killed, to a man,” he said quietly, refilling both wine glasses and taking away the plates. “I was the backup plan, she found me out on Ol’val and I had a fun time gettin’ her out.”
Kordath pulled his right arm out of it’s sleeve, lifting his shirt up to expose his shoulder. Lyir gave him a strange look up until she saw the scar from the exit wound on the front of his shoulder. “Took a bleedin’ slug through the back as I got her on to a shuttle, medics patched me up pretty well but it’s still a bit stiff every now and then, ya know?”
The Arconan stood still as Lyir came around the counter, holding her wine in one hand and reaching out with the other to touch the scar. His tail twitched at the gentle touch, and he wondered if the wine hadn’t been a bad idea. “She looked young.”
“Bout twelve, yeah.”
“Poor girl, I guess you aren’t half bad at this whole keeping people safe thing. Kind of strange for your people.”
“You talkin’ Ryn or Arconan, luv?”
Lyir let out a small laugh, “So defensive; I didn’t mean anything by it, Bleu.”
“What, no more ‘Mister’?” he asked, trying to deflect his awkwardness with humor.
“I do believe we’re past that,” she said as she leaned.
Oooh the Consul is gonna kill me, was the last rational thought of the Arconan.
Kordath woke to light streaming through the blinds, groaning a little as he felt the stuffiness in his head from the prior night’s wine. At first he tried to move, before realizing he wasn’t alone and settled back into the bed. Redhair and a pale arm were across the Ryn’s chest, and he stroked both idly as he tried to plot out how to get the diplomat to the Citadel safely. Even as he planned out routes in his head, some more dangerous than others, he heard his front door click open. Bleu froze and ran through his options.
He was very, very naked. His companion was as well, their only modesty was the blanket pulled over the two of them. This was why he didn’t drink while doing escort jobs, he realized. Heavy steps could be heard in the front of the apartment and he sighed, gathering the Force to himself. Somebody would be traumatized today by going head to head in hand to hand combat with a naked Ryn. Gently he moved Lyir’s arm and quietly climbed out of bed, crouching and moving to a position by the bedroom door. It opened slowly and a man with a blaster carbine stepped through the door.
The man yelped in surprise as Kordath lunged upwards at him, knocking the weapon away and wrapping both arms around the trooper’s head. Bleu twisted and slammed the man’s skull into a wall, rebounding off it with a loud thunk. He heard Lyir let out a little scream of surprise, glancing back to see the redhaired woman gathering the sheets around her in wide eyed terror.
“Get some clothes on, luv, I’ll hold ‘em off till you’re decent! Grab me some pants and get ready to open the window!”
“Stand down, Bleu!” came a familiar, cheery voice from his front room. Two more troopers were in the short hall holding their weapons on the exposed Ryn. Behind them was a blind folded, tanned figure tapping a booted foot on the floor in impatience. “Is Lady Velescara in there? Safe?”
“Aye, Blinky, she’s safe,” stated the Ryn, feeling silly as he covered himself with his hands. A pair of pants fell over his head, tossed from inside the bedroom. “Give me five, boss lady?”
“Please hurry up.”
Five minutes later Atyiru, Kordath, and Lyir sat in the living room of the apartment. Bleu was awkwardly silent as Lyir recounted the attack on the security convoy and their fleeing afterwards. She left out the activities from the previous night but did sit rather close to the Ryn.
“He did a very good job keeping me safe, Shadow Lady, I’m certain he deserves some kind of accolade or reward for his work,” she finished up with.
Atyiru turned her sightless gaze on Bleu who shifted uncomfortably as she smirked, “I suppose, though I think he may have already received ample reward. Going to Desp was a good idea, Kordath, he sent along your message.”
Lyir looked between the two Arconans, “Pardon? The stock boy?”
“He’s a mate, low level DIA operative as well. Figured Atty’d find us if I talked to him, this is my closest place to the market.”
“Ah, I see. I was curious as to how you intended to make contact.”
“Well I was gonna get ya to the Citadel today, expected them to show up some time last night. What took so bloody long?”
“We had to clean up the would be assassins first, before coming to get her. Wouldn’t want a repeat of yesterday, now would we?”
“Fair enough,” muttered the Ryn. “So what now?”
“Now, my security team will take her into the Citadel so we can begin our meetings. We have no further need of you today, Bleuboy, take a day off.”
“If I might have a moment with my escort, Lady Atyiru?”
“Oh, yes, of course, just make it quick please, the security officers get antsy if I take to long outside of the Citadel,” replied the MIraluka, grinning at the pair. She got up and left through the door, closing it gently behind her.
Lyir turned to Kordath, “I want to thank you–”
“Think ya did that last night,” he broke in with a grin. She blushed momentarily.
“Yes, I suppose I did. Still, I’ll be on world for several weeks while in talks with your leader, I’d like to see that bar you told me about. If you’ll deign to spend time with a ‘high born pratt’?”
“Ah bugger ya heard that,” now the Ryn was blushing in embarrassment.
“I did, so I’ll be requesting from her Shadowness that you be my…personal liaison while on world.”
“Be an honor, a privilege, and all that mess, luv,” stated the Ryn, standing and bowing to the woman as he walked her to the door. Kordath opened it and Lyir gave him a light kiss on the cheek, causing his tail to twitch once more. As he moved to close it he found resistance, “Look luv, it was a bit o’ fun but ya gotta get to, oh, I thought you was done with me, Atts?”
“You made a friend, Bleu,” stated the Miraluka mischievously as she stepped into the apartment, closing the door. “Just wanted to let you know I’m proud, you performed exactly how I expected you too when I put this all into play.”
“Some of the higher ups of the DIA thought it was foolish to send you, I told them they were wrong. I didn’t quite expect you to trip her into your bunk, but good for you, she’s pretty hot. And now she feels indebted to us because you saved her, so this deal will be more favorable to us. Do spend more time with her, she seems to like you and I’d prefer we have as much ‘bridge building’ between Odan Urr and Arcona as possible while she’s here.”
“Wait, are you sayin’ this was a bloody false flag the whole time? We attacked the bloody diplomat of an ally just to get some points with them?”
“It’s politics, Bleu, don’t worry your little head. Take a shower, you smell like a wet Wookiee who spent the night in a brothel,” stated the Consul, amusement thick in her voice as she smiled at her friend and left.
Kordath stood in his apartment, wondering when the entire bloody universe had gone crazy on him.