Lonely Holiday

[Neology]

It was a difficult thing, sneaking secret messages into the Jedi's things, requiring either personal involvement or the use of several intermediaries, by necessity far removed from the usual channels. Risky, expensive, or both – and she was never quite sure that he'd find them.

He had, this time. She could feel him out there, at the edges of her awareness, a disquieting sense of never quite alone that she would never get used to, not if they both lived a thousand years. Distance blunted the edge, but now, same planet, same district – soon to be same street, same room … It brought consideration to every breath, to every stray thought. Her secrets weighed heavily on her, rigid as a suit of armor.

She'd kept the message brief. Date, time, and place. Instruction not to use his name. Signed L.F..

Garland's chance house loomed ahead in the neon haze. Novus quickened her step, balled fists in her pockets pulling the synthleather jacket tight across her shoulders. At the door, she nodded to the bouncer, a muscular kiffar that she recognized from a previous visit. He opened the door for her without a word.

Soft music and muffled conversation enveloped her as she stepped inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted. Few empty tables, the hum and rattle of the machines … A busy night, then. Whether that might prove a boon or a hindrance, she could not say. Had the Jedi learned an ounce of subtlety in weeks past? She doubted it.

Novus moved toward the stairs, waving over an attendant in the house's black and green as she went. The young woman matched her stride, smiling prettily.

”Your suite is ready for you, ma'am. Is there anything I can get for you?”

“I'm expecting someone. Tall, grumpy looking guy, a little weird, not a regular. Send him up when he arrives, please.”

The attendant shot her a strange look, then nodded her head, blonde curls bouncing with the motion. “Yes, ma'am. Of course.”

[Dutch]

One hour after landing…

Levin stood just within the doors of the casino, swallowing the lump in his throat as his grey eyes were lit by flashing lights. They peered around, from the balconies above to the gambling pits below. A hive of scum and villainy masked by glittering colors and sophisticated speak. He set his jaw before peering down at himself now, a sigh of resignation given at what he wore. Where normally hung robes or his favorite coat was a silken tunic, bright and blood red with silver Diathim designs swirled throughout. Tied at his waist by a pure black sash, it hung to the right knee of his just a little tight black pants. He never understood why when women had chosen clothes for him, the pants were always the wrong size. He remained placed in his spot, shining Corellian styled boots mirroring the flickering lights before Levin.

”You sir, can only be him.” Levin blinked once and diverted his gaze to a young woman that approached him. His head would tilt slightly as the blonde smiled warmly at him, datapad clutched to her chest with one hand while the other beckoned him to enter.

“Him?” He asked.

”Tall, grumpy looking. And a little weir- not a regular.” She replied, clearing her throat politely before gesturing to the datapad. ”She’s waiting for you in Suite 33, third ring, third door to the left of the lift.”

“I-uh. Thank you.” Levin said with a second blink, turning his confused gaze back up to the top balcony of the building. Where he could feel Lidah waited for him.

”She’s very pretty, sir. Your wife that is. Come to Nar Shadaa to get away from the Core? I understand the stresses of Coruscant, my family still works for the Senate in the attache department.”

Levin’s lips made a line at the curly-haired girl’s babbling, her words taking him off guard. His instant reaction was to correct the girl, state that he was forbidden from such. That a Jedi couldn’t marry unless he left the Order. Yet for the briefest moment, he considered what Novus would do.

“Yes.” He began, the smallest of smiles curling the corner of his lips. “She is quite beautiful.”

A short lift ride and several steps later Levin now stood before Suite 33, Lidah’s presence leaking from the room like strands of whispy smoke. His hand lifted to press against the panel of the door. A pair of low beeps would deny Levin’s entry, a small frown tugged at his mouth. She always did this to him it seemed. His fist lifted to rap knuckles gently against the door, a trio of knocks. The same he did every time.

[Neology]

Knocking, the sound just barely there through the thick door, disturbing the suite's unnatural quiet. The Sith's blue eyes widened, focusing as she turned her head. The ceiling's warm acoustic tiles blurred into textured walls, dark wooden panels that parted here and there to reveal an underbelly of soft light. The reflex was there, without need.

Now that he was here, she regretted the invitation, toyed with the idea of staying exactly where she was - splayed on her back, sinking into a plush sofa. He'd never get through that door without a lightsaber and even that would take time.

A slow death, trailing off into silence and hate … She smiled at that painfully bitter thought and rolled over. It would be better for him, reaffirming his entire world, the galaxy, in stark black and white. No room for exceptions, or the exceptional. Force, she hated that, that willful blindness, that hypocrisy. And he would hate her when he found out what she'd done, was doing, and would do.

'Where did I find room for so much self-pity?' She stood, rolling her shoulders as the blood rushed to her head. Besides, if she didn't answer the door he'd just wait, stubborn creature that he was. Novus moved to the door, white socks slipping briefly against polished wood, and keyed it open (different passcode than the exterior lock – Garland's services were very thorough.)

“Hey. Sorry, come in.” She waved the Jedi inside and moved back to the couch, plopping down with one leg folded beneath her. Finally she looked at him, the clothes eliciting a raised eyebrow and a weak smirk. They seemed to fit well enough, but remained a tad off, like seeing one of her tuk'ata after she'd clipped its spines.

“I think … “ She realized she was fiddling with her hands and deliberately stopped, grasping her knees instead. “You do know that this is crazy, right? Running into each other is one thing, but why are you here?”

[Dutch]

Levin stood in the same place, eyes staring at the door seemingly blankly as he waited. It wasn’t uncommon for the woman to take a moment, so he had thought nothing of it. When the door opened the Jedi would tilt his head, feeling a ripple in the Force off Lidah. Her thoughts were disquiet, if directly shielded. Though their bond allowed him to sense her emotions intuitively, she had always been able to shield her direct thoughts when she wanted them to be so. Levin followed her in, eyes following the curve of her back as she stepped back to where she had been sitting. With slow steps he entered, taking that moment to take in the warm and inviting interior. From the sheer number of sentients and activity in the Nar Shadaa night even Levin had difficulty tracking any individuals in the immediate area. The stimuli alone was a shield, and with this Levin felt sure of the privacy Novus and him now shared.

He stepped around the back of the couch she sat on, eyes regarding her fingers as they stretched out to clutch at her knees. Now standing next to her Levin eased himself down to sit, a small flare of self consciousness rising as he had to adjust the pants that clung to his lower body. He turned to peer at the hoary woman, feeling the light warmth of her skin and presence meld gently against him.

“I arrived to my chamber within the Charity, and found the case with the clothing on my bed. I assumed it was a message. Found you with our bond in the Force, and now here I am.” Levin explained, as if it were an everyday thing to happen. It was in her posture as much as her presence, the disquiet that rumbled deep within the Sith. For a long moment, Levin wasn’t entirely sure what to say or do next. This was not the state he had been expecting to find her in, the normal feisty spark in her missing. Another moment, and the Jedi’s broad hand would move to rest atop one of hers.

“You seem troubled.”