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emperors_handOOC: Follows this thread.
Galen pulled at his collar, trying to get himself some breathing room. Ten seconds later, he did it again, to just as little effect. He understood that it was a losing battle, trying to get comfortable in this new skin, but it wasn't one he was willing to give up just yet. With more than a little chagrin, Galen realized just how well that idea summed up most of his life.
As he and Mara approached the hotel, Galen's eyes picked out at least two entry points they could have used without rousing the least bit of suspicion. A little push of the Force to influence a few lazy-looking security guards and they could have been inside the hotel and free to roam almost totally undetected. But no, for once, it was Mara whose plan involved a kind of frontal assault: walking in the front doors of the ballroom with forged invitations.
He felt like the country cousin, invited to the big city. If Galen had been from one of the backwater Rim planets like Tattooine , he couldn't have felt more out of place in his stiffly-ironed tunic and trousers, tall leather boots that were so new they almost creaked with every step, and a collar that felt as though it were digging into the skin under his chin. Mara, for her part, not only looked stunningly beautiful, but utterly at home. If he hadn't known better-- and, truth be told, have been having particularly enthusiastic sex with her on a regular basis since leaving the medical ship-- he would never have recognized her.
They were ushered into the main ballroom and Galen gratefully took an offered glass of some bubbling alcoholic drink. As he raised it to his lips, he thought he caught a familiar silhouette out of the corner of his eye. Shaking the phantom off to nerves, he glanced back at Mara. "I hear Rion VII isn't one hundred percent stable, tectonically. The whole hotel could be leveled in seconds and no one would suspect," he whispered, half-joking.
Galen pulled at his collar, trying to get himself some breathing room. Ten seconds later, he did it again, to just as little effect. He understood that it was a losing battle, trying to get comfortable in this new skin, but it wasn't one he was willing to give up just yet. With more than a little chagrin, Galen realized just how well that idea summed up most of his life.
As he and Mara approached the hotel, Galen's eyes picked out at least two entry points they could have used without rousing the least bit of suspicion. A little push of the Force to influence a few lazy-looking security guards and they could have been inside the hotel and free to roam almost totally undetected. But no, for once, it was Mara whose plan involved a kind of frontal assault: walking in the front doors of the ballroom with forged invitations.
He felt like the country cousin, invited to the big city. If Galen had been from one of the backwater Rim planets like Tattooine , he couldn't have felt more out of place in his stiffly-ironed tunic and trousers, tall leather boots that were so new they almost creaked with every step, and a collar that felt as though it were digging into the skin under his chin. Mara, for her part, not only looked stunningly beautiful, but utterly at home. If he hadn't known better-- and, truth be told, have been having particularly enthusiastic sex with her on a regular basis since leaving the medical ship-- he would never have recognized her.
They were ushered into the main ballroom and Galen gratefully took an offered glass of some bubbling alcoholic drink. As he raised it to his lips, he thought he caught a familiar silhouette out of the corner of his eye. Shaking the phantom off to nerves, he glanced back at Mara. "I hear Rion VII isn't one hundred percent stable, tectonically. The whole hotel could be leveled in seconds and no one would suspect," he whispered, half-joking.
