His teeth ground a bit. As much as he would have loved leveling the building with the Force or at least some well-placed thermal detonators, Galen understood why Mara had laid out the plan this way. This time, at least, they were being instructed to find proof of guilt before any sanctions would be carried out. Galen supposed that if they were to comm back to Imperial Center that Consul Kratos was guilty of embezzlement that their mission would immediately turn into an assassination, but that order had not come down. Yet.
Galen's thoughts on the matter were ended when he caught the glimpse. He did his best to calm the tingling in the back of his neck. "It's nothing," he answered a bit too quickly, "just nerves."
A few minutes of mingling later, Galen's instincts warned him just a moment before he heard the second voice, too late for him to steer Mara in another direction. Not that it would have happened, since the first voice belonged to Consul Kratos himself.
"Ahh, you must be the Duchess. Welcome." The man attached to the voice was the sort of smarmy, polished political animal that Galen had always done his best to avoid. They played betrayal and power games like Sith, but even less trustworthy. But the Consul wasn't Galen's concern. It was the woman on Kratos' arm.
While Mara's gown was beautiful and highly flattering to her shapely figure, the other woman's seemed designed to expose as much of her taller, lankier frame as possible without involving the authorities. Large expanses of light gray skin were on display under a few shimmering patches of black sequined fabric. Ostentatious jewelry in tones of obsidian and crimson completed the "trophy companion" look, as did the deceptively bemused and airy expression in the red eyes and horned face.
"And you must be the Duchess' plus one," purred Maris Brood, showing no outward signs that she recognized Galen, "Viscount Netal, isn't it?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-02-19 11:01 am (UTC)Galen's thoughts on the matter were ended when he caught the glimpse. He did his best to calm the tingling in the back of his neck. "It's nothing," he answered a bit too quickly, "just nerves."
A few minutes of mingling later, Galen's instincts warned him just a moment before he heard the second voice, too late for him to steer Mara in another direction. Not that it would have happened, since the first voice belonged to Consul Kratos himself.
"Ahh, you must be the Duchess. Welcome." The man attached to the voice was the sort of smarmy, polished political animal that Galen had always done his best to avoid. They played betrayal and power games like Sith, but even less trustworthy. But the Consul wasn't Galen's concern. It was the woman on Kratos' arm.
While Mara's gown was beautiful and highly flattering to her shapely figure, the other woman's seemed designed to expose as much of her taller, lankier frame as possible without involving the authorities. Large expanses of light gray skin were on display under a few shimmering patches of black sequined fabric. Ostentatious jewelry in tones of obsidian and crimson completed the "trophy companion" look, as did the deceptively bemused and airy expression in the red eyes and horned face.
"And you must be the Duchess' plus one," purred Maris Brood, showing no outward signs that she recognized Galen, "Viscount Netal, isn't it?"