Business of Emotion//The Blind Auction

[CaptainBonkers]

It seemed that the appearance of the emergency induction port from his helmet was proving to be quite the hit among his friends, at least judging by all the chuckles and laughter, as well as interest, it managed elicit among them. It was slightly surprising to Jayec though not entirely inconceivable to comprehend. He was merely too used to the existence of such solutions for consuming liquids while armored and too well aware of the usefulness of it to find it funny himself. Ylva especially seemed to find it hilarious and was unable to stop herself from giving it a playful tug followed by a comment about wishing to try the helmet on some time. Behind his visor a smile spread on Jayec's face. He would be happy to entertain her at a later date though he feared that his helmet might not fit over Ylva's handsome horns.

It seemed that everyone present had their eye on something at the auction. Jayec's attention was steered towards Thelonious and his female friend by Ylva's comments. He hadn't heard about the lad seeing anyone, though the fact he was dancing with a lass suggested that either the two knew each other well enough or that the lad had some moves with the ladies. Jayec's money was on the former, though he wasn't ready to cross out the later option either. The first one just seemed more likely, that's all.

He was just about to comment about the matter and suggest they poke into background of Thel's mystery lass a little when Miss Faine did something that baffled the belief and seemingly began flirting with a random guest before inviting him to join her for something upstairs. Ylva's reaction quite accurately summarized his opinion. What the fuck indeed just happened. In Jayec's experience miss Faine wasn't the kind of lady to just suddenly pick up random men at parties, so this development was highly suspicious.

"My words exactly." he replied. "But I better get closer. I have to be able to ram through the door in case things get ugly in there."

[Moonfire]

While Moonfire had the privilege of learning a few formal dances in her extensive and obscure training with the Jedi, she found such lessons failing her now. In a room full of ostentatious party-goers the rigid ballroom dance rules of Corellia and the ritual steps of Iridonia’s more tribal populations hardly fit the beat of the song or the shuffling steps of her equally unprepared dance partner.

Thel’s head rested comfortably atop her, chin sinking into the bundle of loose curls fluffed about a smooth bun and peering easily over the pointed ears of her mask. It was closer than she’d been with… well anyone in several years. His heart beat in steady, thumping rhythm beneath her cheek as he whispered. The puff of air against her ear, a foreign bit of familiarity that brought a high color to her face, thankfully obscured by the feline facade.

”I can imagine. I dealt with them for years. Don’t worry about it though. This is our turf. If he wants to pick a fight, he’ll bite off more than he can chew.”

The admission was the closest thing to plain language either had been in their whole association. Interrogations and milkshakes and questions about old diner’s aside. Thelonious Arkandi, hotel consultant, was at one point a Jedi. For whatever reason he wasn’t anymore, but he was no stranger to Sith. A thought that struck her as more comforting than not-- The back-end of his statement helping to settle the bundle of nerves in the pit of her stomach, twisting in time to the demands of The Bored Walk’s singer, professing that destiny was calling him to open up his eager eyes.

Chuckling at his half-hearted reply her head lifted to meet his eye again before a flash of white caught her attention, drawing quickly to he figure of simple black tuxedo and pale, nearly sickly pink skin. The faintest touch of rose. She stared for a moment, that familiar presence bringing a chill to her core and a mournful stab of guilt, quickly stifled and stomped down by serious work ethic.

“Right there, he’s--” The words fell out, a touch too loud but steady as Moonfire turned to swing her partner, hand at his shoulder guiding their attention. “There-- There, that’s him right now.” The woman muttered as she watched the figure swagger towards a group of people, Zexva’s attention clearly captivated by a tall and well-dressed woman with a shock of snowy, voluminous hair. Watching the interaction closely, Moonfire barely heard anything Thel might have said in reply, eyes trained on the scene of mandalorian, towering zabrak woman and-- Oh, goodness.

Locke.

Disentangling from Thel the young woman took two steps before turning back at him mid-step of her bothersome clicking heels, catching his eye. “I--Uhhh--” Her head swiveled back just in time to catch the vision of the glamorous woman, Locke and Zexva moving towards a more, ahem, private space. Blast it. Reaching back Moonfire’s hands moved along his shoulders pulling her expression into something almost fawning as her voice did little to match the look of teasing adoration she tried quite valiantly to pull off. Her hands fussed with his collar and lapel, holding the edges of his jacket as thumbs brushed along his arms.

“This is going to be terribly awkward, Mr. Arkandri-- But I don’t think we should let him out of our sights so to speak, so if you wouldn’t mind accompanying me…?” Slim neck arched to show her intention, tilting to the room just beside the very one beside their target. Upon his approval her hand caught his, leading the man silently through the crowd of party-goers as one song bled into another, striking a more feverish pitch.

Within moments they were inside a gaudy and dimly lit room, the door locking with the touch of a pad behind them. She could feel them there, just through the durasteel of the skypalace’s walls. Zexva’s swirl of emotions, and then another-- something even more. Obscuring. Dense. Yet light, wispy even, barely tangible and so very, very there. Shaded.

“Who is that?” Moonfire whispered, shaking her head as she moved to the closest point in the room, head pressing experimentally to the wall. Nope, durasteel did wonders for muffling conversation. “Help me find a vent or something, if you don’t mind?”

[Fromikeable]

Vance's hairs stood on their ends as the presence finally returned to his range. It was confident. Downright arrogant, even. So convinced of its own success, of its self-proclaimed mission, that it strutted just as its owner did, with a borderline swagger. He was headed right for them, strolling on an almost exact path. Vance's hand twitched on his dance partner's lower back, his mind immediately ringing of his saber tucked in his inner suit pocket. As soon as he saw one of the Zeltron popped out one of his blades, he would find a green saber humming at the ready, prepared to-

The man bypassed them entirely. Wheeling his head to watch, Vance's expression lightened from defensive to confused. He wasn't after the Jedi? Who on Nar Shaddaa could he possibly be-

When the man stopped in front of Lidah, Vance's heart skipped a beat. When he watched her, Locke, and the interloper stroll off to a room, he swallowed hard.

That man needs to die. Vance wasn't about to let all of these years of work, freedom, and for once, actual happiness be stopped by a Sith, of all people.

The world came reeling back as hands grabbed his shoulders, Iris suddenly being very close with a look on her face that made him distinctly uncomfortable. Her voice managed to offset the sudden forwardness however, her clear alarm at the situation palpable. What did she have to be worried about? There was no way she knew who Lidah was, and the only person aside from her Jedi that had gone off with them had just been Lo-

Shit. Why hadn't Vance put that together sooner? There were two Jedi on Nar Shaddaa. Why wouldn't they be working together? It was too little too late now, though. Mooney's request inspired an immediate sense of dilemma. He needed to be up there, to hear what was happening, to know what needed to happen. But could she be up there too? Was a Jedi potentially hearing something any better than a Sith?

For the hundredth time (or so it felt), it all came down faith. Force about, please don't let her abuse it now.

"Not at all, Ms. Marth." She led him by the hand to the adjacent room, and by the time they got there, the pair was practically running. As "Iris" went running in first, Vance locked the door behind them, going so far as to usher a chair to his hands with the Force with which to jam the knob against. Effectively barricaded, his presence reigned in, looking to the next room and not much else.

When Lidah's presence came flowing back out, he grimaced. So this is serious. His saber hilt flew to his hand more as a comfort than an option, his thumb fiddling with the button as he scanned the wall. Down on the floor, a small vent ushered up cool, clean air, offering what might have been a link between the rooms. Pointing down at it, the small grate groaned lightly for a second as it was ripped free, exposing the small air duct below.

Kneeling next to it, Vance lowered his ear, his mouth feeling dry. Glancing at his companion one final time, his presence couldn't help but wrap around hers a bit, his mind idly considering the strength of the wall before them as he listened. He had to keep Lidah's identity a secret at all costs. He had to keep Locke's identity a secret at all costs. He had to keep "Iris" from hearing too much. He had to make that they both heard enough from the Sith.

He just retained his silence, his breathing notably labored. If the night didn't end up someone dead or worse, it would be a miracle.

[Deleted]

Zexva still didn't understand the emotions of unease that he brought to others. Was his presence simply that disturbing to those that didn't know him? Did it bother them that he had no light? It was a question he would have to ask his Master when he made his way back to Korriban. As he followed the woman, and the male up to the stairs, his attention was focused solely on her. The woman that he knew as Darth Novus, and nothing else. When he had been younger he had asked her what was wrong with him after meeting Moonfire, and she had been gracious enough to answer him to some degree. Emotions like that were foreign to him at the time, but he understood them better now thanks to many years of travel, and experience.

”Well? I don't see you as a messenger. So what do you want?”

She spoke with the composure of someone who was above others, and to some degree it made him respect her a bit more. But only a bit more. He didn't shrink away from her presence, whether she was trying to intimidate him or not he didn't know, but he held his ground, and stood facing her. His golden eyes never breaking away from hers when she turned to face him, he simply smiled.

"You are correct I am no messenger..." his voice was playful in it's tone. "I must say you look great for a dead woman Lady Novus...I hope that when I am eventually killed I can still retain my looks." lifting his fingers he tapped the side of his cheek a habit he had formed during his years as an assassin when he was thinking about how to torture his victims. "It is quite curious how you survived direct execution from the Empress herself...This begs some questions, but I'm sure in time I'll find out the truth. I'm in no rush..." while his tone was playful, the words were very direct.

"Don't worry though I'm not here for you, or anyone else. I'm simply here for the auction." he said to her still smiling as he stopped tapping his chin, and crossed his arms. Her bodyguard spoke up next telling him to tread lightly, a bored expression crossed his face, as he was so tired of others telling him what to do. "I tread however I please, so don't threaten me, if I'm being nice, yeah?" the words were half exasperated, as he was bored of everyone trying to show off how big their lightsabers were to him.

First the lancer, now this guy. Why was everyone trying to be so macho when all he wanted to do was have a simple conversation with someone.

"Regardless I'm sure this auction is probably going to get ugly. So Lady Novus, if you are up for it I could use your help in achieving my goal. If not, it isn't a big deal I always find a way to get what I want in the end." he said addressing her directly once again.

[Neology]

”Thanks.” Lidah said in a flat voice, arranging herself artfully on the circle settee. ”And you look like a man with very little self-control.” Her powder blue eyes lingered significantly on the Stih’s exposed skin, then met his eyes. They were wolfish in color, perhaps, but there was no beastly eyeshine in this halflight, no tapetum lucidum. Playing pretend, right. More like raising the dead. She could be the Dark Lady again, wear that face and those bones. If only for a little while. Novus stepped out of her heels and pushed them neatly under the coffee table. They were no good in any kind of scramble in the dark – though the heel spike itself could make a clumsy weapon if needs must. Alas, dainty dresses and steel toed boots were unlikely to fashionably align within her estimated lifetime. Thirty minutes to an hour. An unfortunate side effect of being mostly fictional. The Sith’s words were distasteful. Coercion with no carrot and no meaningful stick - then rude to Locke besides. Novus shook her head before he was done speaking. ”’Questions?’ Really, like what?” She smiled quite terribly, all bold matte red lip and pearly white teeth. ”Two explanations for this. Either the Empress knows exactly where I am and what I’m doing. Or … I am just so damn good that I got away free and clean. Now, in which of those worlds am I someone to fuck with?” She could sense Vance and someone else on the other side of one wall. Strange, that. Jayec was on the way as well, but from a different direction. Novus watched Locke for a moment, privately amused to be seeing his very best bodyguard act from the opposite side. A mirror distorted view of the day they’d met. ”Enough bullshit. This is not ‘nice.’ This is smug. So why should I make a deal with a smug little prick like you?” She didn’t misunderstand the implied threat. But a firing squad could do even for a Sith, and Cerbozz had some of the best security on the moon. ”This isn’t my house – I really don’t care if you wreck it. And I don’t do favors for free.”

[Meira]

"Bah." Ylva said to Jayec as he moved to follow his employer. It made sense, but that didn't make it any less boring.

Ylva turned, seeking out that extra tumbler of whiskey and finding it on the table where she'd set it down. With a smile, she lifted it again and brought it to her lips. Her violet eyes scanned the crowd once again, searching for her next distraction. She found it in a passing slave waiter. While he was food for the eyes -a tall, sculpted human with that delightful V shape made by broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist- it was what he carried that truly spoke to her heart. The large tray was covered with bite sized feasts, each slightly different from the last but all emitting the pleasant aroma of cooked meat. Ylva put a hand to the man's bare chest, fingers lingering there as her other hand plucked one of the hors d'oeuvres from the tray and placed it on her tongue. Her eyes watched the man, his eyes watched hers. She took another, smiling at him as she chewed. His returned smile was all pearly whites.

Behind him, movement caught her eye. Two beings moved across the dance floor, heading in the same direction as Lidah and her followers had gone. As Ylva's eyes reluctantly shifted their focus away from the man, she recognized that it was Thel and the woman he'd been dancing with. She was practically dragging him toward the private rooms. An eyebrow arched. Was she drinking the wrong booze? Everyone seemed to be ready to jump each others bones, and it was still so early in the evening. She might have thought them all amateurs, but she knew better than to think that of Lidah. What the hell was going on?

"Not the kind of meat you're after?"

Ylva's eyes flitted back to the slave servant. His dark brown eyes were still watching her. When she looked back at him, he turned his head in the direction she had been looking, toward those private rooms. When he turned his head back, his smile was mischievous. He waggled his eyebrows at her. It would be a lie to say she did not seriously consider it.

"Mmmm..." She lifted her hand from his chest to his jawline. "Mmm, mmm, mmm." She seriously considered it. But there was something creeping up her spine, telling her that there was danger in the air. All that weird behavior from her companions... there was something she was missing there. Ylva sighed and patted the man's cheek. Taking a handful of the hors d'oeuvres she moved away from him, only looking back to watch him walk away once as she caught up to Jayec. Not wanting to interfere with his work, she took up a casual position not far away from the room Lidah and the two men had entered. Between the three of them, they could surely handle whoever that stranger was. She'd run interference out here, in case someone got a little too nosy. Popping another of the treats into her mouth, Ylva leaned against a railing, eyes vigilant through her wolf mask.

[Deleted]

(I got permission to post again)

Zexva had to often wonder if he was bad at conversation from how quickly others became hostile towards him, when he was clearly just trying to talk. Well at least in his eyes he was just talking. Or maybe everyone else just lacked manners...He listened to the womans words, and just let out a sigh. Clearly there was something he was missing from the way she had just reacted to his proposition. She also assumed that he was going to be the one to wreck it, and not the Jedi Girl he was just about to inform her about, but that was no longer here nor there.

He also had to wonder if she was putting this on as an act for the rest of the people that didn't know who she really was, but since she exhibited the same basic symptoms of most Sith, she no longer held his interest anymore. If someone was so easily riled up by him attempting to be polite, they would just get in the way of his plans, and that was something he didn't particularly want. Were he, and his Master the only two sith capable of actually controlling their emotions? Everyone else seemed to lack said control, and gave in so easily it was very curious.

"Well this is going nowhere..." the tone of his voice had shifted back to it's standard emotionless format as he gazed at the snow haired woman boredly. "I don't know what you think I meant, but I have no time to deal with people who so easily fly off the handle. I was genuinely requesting your help, but your attitude has bored me." he shrugged at her, and began to leave. "Guess it can't be helped, enjoy the rest of your night Lady Novus." were the last words he spoke to her before exiting the room.

He wasn't paying attention to really anything else as he descended back into the main floor, and leaned against the bar waiting to be served another drink. Taking stock of all the potential enemies he had here, they had just increased by at least two, not counting the ones that were hidden among the rest of the rabble. Things were going to get messy probably, he was going to ask Lady Novus to escort Moonfire out of the area, so he wouldn't have to deal with the Jedi, but he would have to figure out another way to deal with everyone. It was what he was trained to do after all....

Oh well...If I wasn't going at it alone where would the fun be.

[Rugs]

Locke narrowed his eyes at the Sith, but didn’t speak further. Lidah assumed command of the situation, which was all for the better, in Locke’s eyes. The Sith was already spouting off Lidah’s Sith name as if it were no big deal. He could not afford to blow his cover as a Jedi to the little upstart.

There wasn’t much risk of that, it seemed, for now. The Zeltron seemed to take umbrage with Lidah’s tone and, claiming he was being polite, saw himself out of the room.

Locke unlocked the door for him and waited a long moment to be sure the Sith was gone until he sighed loudly and looked at Lidah with a what-the-fuck-just-happened expression.

“So, uh, friend of yours?” he asked finally as he walked back over to her. He took a few morsels of fruit and cheese sitting out on the room’s far side. “And do you think he’ll be trouble?”

If the Sith didn’t cause a fuss, that’d be ideal. But most Sith had a way for causing fusses where they weren’t wanted. Locke hadn’t planned for dealing with Sith here, because — silly him — he hadn’t expected one to pop out of the blue.

“I need a drink,” he muttered. Then, turning to Lidah with a smile beneath his golden mask, a nod at the door. “And a dance. We might still have time if we hurry.”

---

With the usual greeting bullshit done, Io’an had turned to seeing to his own entertainment. He drifted away from the balcony where he’d watched the guests stream into the sky palace and, like so many others, into the midst of things.

After plucking some mixed drink with a sweetly potent aftertaste from a passing server, he began to mingle. He spared a few polite words for people here and there--and even eyed an attractive specimen or two, but he was mostly on a mission.

I know you’re here, he thought, trying not to appear to be searching for someone in particular. And yet he was. But he didn’t see that light hair anywhere...

...until hands on his shoulders nearly made him jump in surprise.

“Oi, Ian!” The hands wrapped resolutely about his shoulders, pulling him close to powder blue mask. With a tug the mask fell away. “It’s me, Oberyn-- Fuckin’ lame these masks an’ shite, yeah?”

Io’an nearly spilled his drink as he turned around. His heart seemed suddenly to leap into his throat. “Ob-Oberyn,” he stammered. “I uh... wasn’t sure if you’d come.” Io’an fiddled with his mask, hoping it covered the reddening of his cheeks. “It’s Io’an,” he half-muttered, under his breath. “So how are you liking things?”

Oberyn looked over his shoulder with a disdainful expression, a slim and boisterous figure half-oozed over a zelosian woman behind in cheers of flirtatious laughter. “Feelin’ like a fuckin’ lemon in this monkey-lizard suit, Cristo wanted to come so 'ere we are. Foods not 'alf bad.” The man replied with a shrug, piercing eyes settling back on Io’an comfortably, not noticing the correction of his name. “I was thinkin’ 'bout ya the other day, actually--”

Io’an didn’t realize he’d started holding his breath at the last until he needed to inhale when he suddenly knit his brows. A presence swelled in the Force suddenly, ominously. Zexva’s presence still lurked elsewhere in the palace, but this one was different.

“Something’s wrong,” Io’an said. He looked at Obie, then at the stairs leading away from the main floor. “Oberyn I...” he swallowed, frustrated. “I have to go check on something. I’m sorry. But I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Obie shrugged, shoving another mini shellfish cake into his mouth as he waved the other man off. “S’not important. Go. I’ll be 'ere with lover boy for a while.”

“Alright.” Io’an, to his credit, kept the scowl from his face until he turned around and hurried off into the crowd. If that damned Zeltron is causing trouble, there’s gonna be hell to pay. But even as he felt Zexva’s presence descending from the upper floor, he hurried up, to where the new one and several others were gathered.

[Neology]

Novus watched the Sith depart, head cocked to one side. She blew out a long breath in lieu of any parting shots, snickering quietly into the palm of one manicured hand. What must the Order look like these days, if this was flying off the handle by Sith standards? Sitting on a couch, unarmed … If only a bit of rough language was enough to banish all such monsters. Then her life would be vastly less complicated. ”No, not a friend. Not even a little.” Lidah thumbed her shoes back on. She didn’t feel good about using her old name, even if just for a few minutes and mostly in her thoughts. Renata would surely find it presumptuous – Imperial authority taken out on loan. But it had seemed that the Sith expected to see a Sith, when he looked at her. Strange in itself. ”Long term, probably not. Tonight … I don’t know. Maybe? Depends on what he was on about with that favor.” Pity. It rankled in an old, professional sense that she hadn’t gotten more information out of the stranger. More troubling, however, was that other presence she sensed. Behind the wall, with Vance. How soundproof was this room? Was this being recorded? If it was her party, she knew what she’d do. ”That sounds lovely, but ... You look far too put together for what we’re supposed to be doing.” Lidah pulled Locke down onto the settee and kissed him deeply. Her fingers tangled in his hair. Playful at first, then finding more serious purchase in the back, close to the scalp. Attention-arresting but not painful. ”Two people next door, very close to the wall. Thel and someone I’ve never met before.” Lidah whispered beside his ear. Withholding information that she didn’t need to know – that would be nothing new. Plausible deniability and all that. But add in a clumsy, very obvious Sith to throw around her name so many times, to unknown observers, and then walk out without a purpose. If felt like a set up. Not quite to Locke's standards, but maybe he didn't have a choice. She reeled in her presence almost to nothing, still and quiet. ”Keeping me in the dark now, love? Does Thel know?”

[Moonfire]

Crouching in any sort of formal dress wasn’t exactly Moonfire’s preferred way to spend a fancy evening, but work was work. Tilting her head to the side the oversized feline ear dipped towards the emptied vent, listening to the muffled shuffling of bodies and the clip of barely discernible dialogue. Sliding the mask up and away from her face the jedi set it to their side, lingering in the warm shadow of Thel’s chest and the protective wrap of the Force as she listened.

Blue eyes shut closed, focusing on the voices. Zexva’s was familiar, striking in it’s shifting tones. Smooth. Emotionless in some spots, taunting in others. Squinting the woman shuffled closer, nearly bumping into her companion as she strained to hear the middle of their conversation. And soon it was illuminated, the arkanian woman was displeased with Zexva calling her out, teeth bared in ever chilly edge.

Lady Novus.

A dark lady, a Darth if memory served. Publicly executed if memory served. Master Balkk had mentioned them before, though her distance from the war kept it all behind a veil.

Every word back and forth was a snip. Cutting away at hidden motivates and fears. Revealing truths, or perhaps obscuring them? It was hard to tell with the peculiar way the conversationalists danced about the subjects, upfront and coy in taciturn sentences.

Perhaps it was two Sith just behind a bit of durasteel, but Moonfire could almost feel the electricity crackle in the air. Metal sat heavy and warm in the center of her tongue as panic, white and hot shot through her. It was more than just two sith conversing before parting.

Locke was in there.

In there as a hired gun to a woman just revealed to probably be a Sith who either cheated death or was, as she implied, on some mission for the Dark Empress. Either way, she wasn’t someone to fuck with.

Nerves caught in her throat as Moonfire could hear the pair shuffling, her eyes flicking back to Vance’s in widened, damp horror. Her first instinct was to tell him her fears, to convince him a few short nods to help her burst into the room before the incredibly dangerous vixen on the other side slayed her mentor. But patience still Mooney’s hand. Concealing her own trembling with a steely-breath Moonfire picked up her mask, eyebrows lifted up question at Thel for a moment. This wasn’t a safe place to talk, the flash of her chronometer signalling the auction starting in a few more short songs.

Grabbing her things the woman tilted her head towards the door, slipping from the relative silence back out into the teeming raucuous noise of the party, making her way shakily towards the bar with a look back to Thel and the door of the room beside theres. Please, please, please let Locke be okay.

And where the hell had the other Sith gone?

[Fromikeable]

Vance almost completely ignored Mooney pressing near, far too focused on the conversation to give their proximity its due consideration (and consequent blushing). This was too important. It wasn't any sort of shocking that a Sith had found its way to Nar Shaddaa, but to be here at the Blind Auction, and to bee-line directly for Lidah? Vance was going to have to make some calls after this. He wanted to know everything this man did after the Auction, from his shoe size to a detailed log of how many times he snored.

This wasn't just another job for the other main enforcer. It was a personal gambit into protecting what freedoms he had gained.

Thus the horror that wracked Vance's presence as the name came tumbling through the vent loud and clear. Darth Novus. Vance swallowed hard, his heart suddenly somewhere between the back of his mouth and the center of his throat, both dry as a bone. Was that it then? This man simply recognized her? Vance couldn't allow himself to believe that; it was too easy. No one recognized a dead woman, coaxed her into a private room, and demanded an audience. No one without an agenda, at the very least.

When it occurred to Vance that he wasn't the only one that had heard the name drop, his expression went from grim to miserable. Glancing at Iris, his focus shifted for a minute, his enveloping presence suddenly far more investigative than protective. She was just as horrified as he was, sure, but she had just become as much as a threat to their way of life as Zexva had. No one would mind a dead Sith. One could even argue that the Zeltron that had just departed the other room, smug and offended as he acted, was begging for a saber through the back. But a dead Jedi?

Vance couldn't just kill her. Nor could he let her just leave.

Biting down a sensation of nausea, he decided to abandon the train of thought, Lidah and Locke's concealed presences in the next room dancing with stress. The sideways look he received from Iris made him raise a hand to hold her shoulder, half restraining, half reassuring. Lidah was no doubt on edge; a Sith had just blown her cover for seemingly nothing, and she had no doubt sensed him and Iris in the next room. Closing his eyes, Vance tried to adjust his thinking, to imitate her. What did a scenario like that look like?

A trap. Not a very good one, either, which was all the more strange.

As Iris got up and replaced her mask, Vance lingered, slowly replacing the vent's grill. To his surprise, Mooney's presence swirled as she glanced back at him, not in fear or opportunism so much as... worry?

Maybe she would be okay. By the Force, please, please, please let her no do anything about this yet.

As she walked away, Vance's presence shot out like a dart, quickly poking at Lidah's and Locke's. His message was simple, spoken in a grim tone that sounded equal parts worried and apologetic.

She'll be cool. We will need to talk to her though. Please believe me. I'm sorry. Leaving the room with a disheveled, exhausted look, his hair unkempt thanks to the air that had come up from the vent, he grimaced at Jayec and Ylva, adding a small addendum before retracting his being from theirs.

If that Sith so much as sneezes, I'm gonna' ram my saber through his tiny pale chest.

[Meira]

The dance floor teemed with bodies as the alcohol and other substances began to work their way through the crowd. The liquor would not be the only thing flowing this evening, it seemed Cerbozz would be making sure of that. Every single one of these guests would be leaving a few thousand credits lighter, at least. Ylva snorted quietly, then finished the drink she had in hand, inwardly assuring herself that she would not be one of the dumbasses taken for a ride... even as she pondered that mystery ship on the auction list. She could feel that pleasant sense of warm numbness creeping through her body. A gentle nibble on her lip confirmed. She was just about at that sweet spot.

Looking down onto the main floor, Ylva spotted one of the slave waiters. She gave a sharp whistle, catching the woman's attention. As the slave looked up, Ylva waggled the empty tumbler in her hand, then dropped it down to the waiter, who deftly caught it and waggled it back. With her next drink on the way, Ylva turned her attention back to her self imposed guard duty.

Her eyes scanned those coming and going along the walkway outside the private rooms, but she noticed nothing suspicious. Had she really decided to help watch the door while a her employer took a menage e tumble with two random men? She'd taken on more varied work after contracting with Lidah, sure, but playing champagne room bouncer on what was supposed to be a free night for her was starting to feel pretty lame. She was about to let Jayec know that she was going to find something else to do -maybe that one waiter was still available- when the door they'd been "guarding" opened and the Zeltron walked out. He moved with a swagger that seemed out of place for a man leaving a paradise sandwich so early, but whatever went on in that room wasn't Ylva's party, so she paid the man little mind as he disappeared back into the crowds. Assuming Jayec had things handled, Ylva turned to leave and found herself walking toward another familiar figure.

With her eyes connecting with his, Ylva's head tilted, her pace slowing and one hand pointing a finger toward him in a do I know you? gesture. Just as the two came within speaking distance, Ylva's mind clicked. "Invitation guy?" she ventured, then added, "Logan?" She was fairly sure she got that wrong, but she'd only met the man once, so she wasn't about to feel too terrible about it.

That waiter appeared at that moment, handing Ylva her requested drink. With a quick thanks to the woman, Ylva turned back toward ... Yunan? "Miss Faine is tied up at the moment." she said, assuming he'd come looking for the Compeer, though she supposed she shouldn't assume to know her employer's preferences. "And so is your boyfriend, come to think of it."

At that moment, however, the woman that had dragged Thel toward the other private room appeared through the door, looking disheveled and not quite at ease. As she made her way quickly back toward the main party area, Thel also appeared at the door, hair a-tumble and also frazzled. Ylva smiled broadly at the two. First times could be unnerving. "These amateurs..." she said in an aside to...Johan? "Hey, Thel!" she shouted. "Your round two is here!" Ylva wrapped and arm around the man's shoulder, and then returned her gaze toward him.

"Unless you'd rather dance." she said, giving him a lopsided smile.

[Deleted]

The auction was a cavalcade of noise, and motion. It was disorienting to someone who preferred to stick to the shadows, and as he listened to the music drift through the air surrounding those who didn't know that he was there, with peace, and serenity. Ignorance was bliss, they had no clue that at any moment this place was just a tinderbox waiting to go up at the whims of others, with powers they couldn't even comprehend. While he had been away from the order for the past seven years he had only spoken to Master Aurelius. He was the only one in the entire order that he truly trusted, and if his master asked him to impale himself on his own swords, he would without hesitation. He had that kind of faith in that man...It was the whole reason he had decided to become stronger, and in some aspects even take on parts of his mentors persona.

He idolized him, a man who truly had it all. Zexva knew that his masters family was kept mostly a secret from the order, but he had learned about them, and it had got him to thinking. Could he have something like that one day? Love was still something that was foreign to him, but he never forgot that it was one of the few options that Nieraan gave him back when he was just an apprentice. So on his travels he had met a woman, it was just by chance, but she had tended to some serious wounds that he had gotten. During a fight with Xiszek his old master had poured acid on him. It was incredibly painful, and even though he survived, and managed to kill the man, he was left on the brink of death.

But she had managed to tend to him, and use her knowledge of medicine to bring him back to almost normal. His hair, and skin were permanently damaged however, while they would look natural. To himself he was just a walking scar...That woman had saved him for no other reason than a whim, and then she had promised to follow him. She devoted herself to him, and so he used her to try, and figure out what love was. She showed him many things, and explained it to him. They had even tangled themselves in the bed together, but he could not replicate the feelings that the Jedi girl gave him.

When he explained to her that he would be going back to the Sith Temple she said she would wait for his call if he ever needed her again. He wondered if that woman loved him...If that was the reason for her devotion to him, or if it was nothing more than the fact that he was a Zeltron, and she simply couldn't help herself. At least with Moonfire he knew that her feelings were real, and not an illusion just because of his genetic makeup. Her hatred was real at least...She at least felt something for him, and it was real. As he drank, and the music continued on, his thoughts turned toward to alternate paths that he could have had. Had Xiszek not found him, and raised him to be lightless, would he have had friends? Would he have perhaps already found that fleeting thing that others so desperately sought.

What would he have been like? Perhaps he, and Moonfire might have been friends, and he would have instead been the enemy of Master Aurelius instead of his student. Though down that path he would have had to bury all of those emotions, and refused to acknowledge them. He wondered why others were always so uneasy around him...With the exception of the higher ups in the order, everyone he spoke to was either uncomfortable around him, or just outright hostile. Was he truly so off putting? All of these things swirled in his mind like a violent cocktail.

Was he evil as Moonfire so often painted him, or was he just someone who had adapted to their surroundings? If that was all he had ever known was he evil, or just normal in the eyes of those who looked at him? A sigh escaped his lips as he realized that he was thinking to much. Shaking his head he stood up, drawing himself up to his full height. It would do no good to show such pathetic signs of weakness while he was surrounded by enemies. Steeling himself he drew in on preventing his presence from leaking out wantonly as it had before. Refining it so that he wore it as an aura. If they were going to treat him as an enemy, then he would make sure that he didn't disappoint. He had a mission to accomplish, and those who got in his way he would make suffer.

That was what he was, someone who only brought misery, and despair to those that were around him. He had no light, he had no kindness, he had no love, those were luxuries that no matter how hard he pursued he would never attain. Those things were not the reason that he was built, he was made to be a weapon. Looking around he caught the familiar color of her raven colored hair, and he made his way towards her. Refusing to outwardly show anything that he was feeling. She didn't care about him, she thought he was a monster anyway, and that is the face that he would present to her. It would be easier for her to think of him as such, because the moment he showed her any of his vulnerabilities, she would think of him as a person.

And that would kill him more than anything...To have her care for him, and try to save him when he knew that no matter what, no matter how things panned out. In the end he would still lose her, and he would still be alone in the darkness with no light. Walking up to her he smiled tilting his head to the side.

"There are three songs left...That means that are three dances to be had with us...Come on...I have been waiting all night to dance with you." He spoke to her his words all honey, and sweet. Hiding everything from her, would be easier for the both of them. Because the moment she tried to save him, he knew that it would get her killed, and he would rather her be alive, and hate him, than to be dead.

"If you don't mind that is..." the words trailed off as his golden eyes stared into her blue ones. He was relaxed around her just as he had been when they had met in the alley.

At least what she feels for you is real...Not some illusion...

[Rugs]

“Too put toge-” Locke’s words were cut off as Lidah pulled him down and pressed her lips to his. After a fleeting moment of surprise, he remembered--they hadn’t publicly gone to the room to interrogate a Sith. Lidah had led them there for intimacy, away from the crowds and the noise of more decent company on the main dance floor. He returned the favor, giving himself over in earnest for these few moments they had, his fingers working into her hair as hers found his.

But then a subtle change. Her hold became something different than for their usual bouts of this.

“Hm?” Locke strained his senses, but with his presence covered so tightly, he could barely feel anyone that wasn’t right in front of him, let alone pick out the specific notes of others in a nearby room. Especially with Lidah’s unmasked presence shining like a sun so close to him.

Someone with Vance. That could be any number of people, though Lidah saying she’d never met the other at least narrowed out the rest of the crew from the Eye. With some sense of resignation, Locke momentarily loosened the hold on his presence.

“Ah,” he said as he felt her presence. Moonfire. She was moving away. Something troubled her. Locke quickly replaced the hold on his presence as Lidah did the same for hers.

What was she doing with Vance in that room?

”Keeping me in the dark now, love?” she asked him. ”Does Thel know?”

Vance, as if prompted, suddenly spoke through the Force. She’ll be cool. We will need to talk to her though. Please believe me. I’m sorry.

Locke wasn’t sure what to make of that, or that Vance apparently knew his partner. “She came to the moon with me,” he said quietly, whispering. That landing, for what was supposed to be a brief visit, felt like an eternity ago. “She’s not an enemy. I promise.”

---

Io’an hurried up the stairs to the second level, where he felt the collection of so many Force users. Thel’s presence he recognized. He didn’t recognize any of the others. He walked briskly toward the rooms until he stopped abruptly at the sound of a familiar voice.

”Invitation guy? Logan?”

“Lo...gan?” Io’an looked around, then realized the masked Zabrak was talking to him. Was that Ylva? Clicking back through his memories, he couldn’t recall hand-delivering any invitations to another Zabrak.

“It’s Io’an,” he said, stressing his correct name slightly as she took a drink from a waiter. “And of course, I’d assume Ms. Faine is...” he glanced back toward the main floor. It was impossible to pick out anyone, and he’d never met Faine to identify her. “Well, somewhere enjoying herself?”

Had she gone to one of the private rooms? Surely not one of these with all the Force users.

”And so is your boyfriend, come to think of it.”

“My boyfriend?” Io’an glanced back to where he’d left Oberyn, feeling a rock of depair in his stomach. But Obie was still there, looking sullen about the whole ordeal of being stuck with his brother.

Before Io’an could say more, one of the Force users came out. He vagule recognized her presence. Ah, Iris. he’d given her an invitation. The meeting had been brief, though. What was she doing in a room with Thel?

Why was her hair so disheveled?

Thel exited a moment later as the other presence in the room next to his winked out of existence--and he thought he’d felt another one by it for a moment. Thel, too, was quite disheveled looking.

Io’an’s cheeks reddened and his pointed ears pressed against his head as he realized what Ylva thought about himself and Thelonious.

Not that he’d mind it, but that wasn’t-

“Hey Thel! Your round two is here!”

“Wait, that’s not why I came up here,” he said. “I was checking on a disturbance.” How to explain that? Ylva couln’t use the Force, as far as Io’an could tell. “But maybe I was just being paranoid.” Zeva was back on the main floor, near were Iris was at the bar. Io’an felt very silly.

Then the other door cracked open and a dark-haired man and pale-haired woman Io’an didn’t recognize emerged. They, too, looked markedly less neat than they’d likely arrived at the party.

“It’s a shame the Zeltron left so early,” the dark-haired man said. “Maybe he just had some performance anxiety.” He shrugged and grinned. “Sorry if we kept you two waiting, but it’s all yours,” he went on with a thumb pointed back at the room. “We’ve got some dancing to go do.”

Io’an just looked at Ylva, feeling helpless.

[Neology]

Lidah was already thinking several moves ahead, spiraling fractals of betrayal and damage control playing out behind her eyes. This was not a good position to fight from, but she would burn down everything she’d built on this moon if she had to … To what? Vance’s apology – his tacit guilt – took the fight out of her all at once. Lidah let go of Locke’s hair and buried her face against his neck. A short disconsolate sigh escaped, then she gulped down a breath of air and held it, counting in her head. There were physical discomforts to focus on: her mask, knocked askew, stuck to her cheek while the laces pulled taut and painful in her hair. Helpful sorts of distraction. At ten, she exhaled. ”Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.” A promise. That was something – and not given lightly if she knew Locke as well as she thought she did. ”I trust you. I just thought ...” Lidah trailed off, frowning and letting go reluctantly. This was really not the place or time to be having this conversation. She climbed to her feet, pacing the room wall to wall and back again. A few moments of very real fear were transmuted as if by alchemy into a sudden overabundance of nervous energy. ”I wont be done in by someone else’s carelessness. We’ll just have fix this. With some of the truth, if nothing else.” Hardly an ideal solution, that, but she couldn’t see any real way to fit that particular Sith rabbit back into the hat of semi-anonymity. And so. She would need to paint herself as a useful and properly contrite sort of rabbit – easier with Locke’s help. It had to happen soon. Preferably before the other Jedi had too much time alone with a secure comm relay, but by no means tonight. Lidah understood fear intimately, and that wouldn’t play right at all. Artfully disheveled but otherwise composed, Lidah shook her head at Locke’s joke. If she was surprised to spot Ylva and Jayec lingering nearby, she didn’t show it. Alas, only the latter was officially on the payroll for tonight. She’d have to find another way to thank Ms. Vuk for her care and vigilance. Drawing up beside Io’an, recognizable by his tattoo and distinct Sephi ears, Lidah cast a glance back at the door. The idea of waiting on those rooms was just a little bit disgusting. At least that Sith had made his appearance early in the evening. ”I’d appreciate it, Io’an, if our host lost the last say … Forty minutes, to be safe? Off of any recordings made in that room. Not that he would do such a thing.” Lidah produced a credstick from her clutch and authorized a modest payment to the slicer’s account. Not too much, of course, in the interest of preserving that fiction of embarrassing sexual escapades. She waved her fingers ‘bye’ and trailed after Locke. Dancing was a subject in which she was entirely content to let him take the lead. She could play along well enough, but occasions and partners had so rarely aligned.

[CaptainBonkers]

Standing guard outside of a room inside of which your employer was having an "intimate" meeting was par for the course with bodyguarding. It came with the territory; folks usually did not like to be interrupted in the midst of enjoying the company of their preferred gender. Especially if that someone bursting in had less than friendly relations with the guardee. Of course, it wasn't often nowadays that Jayec had to do something like this on a job; few were people wealthy enough that could afford to hire him for such a simple job for an evening. People he'd accept such a commission from were even rarer still. 

Standing at this particular door, Jayec hadn't heard anything. Nope. Absolutely nothing. Especially nothing about people being presumed dead or dark lords of the sith. And definitely nothing about the empress. He wasn't being paid to hear things unless they were the sings of struggle or loud variations of 'help!' echoing from the room. Everything else that might have reached his ears was filed firmly under 'none of my damn business'. 

In an effort to avoid listening in, Jayec fired up one of the default games that had come along the holonet app of his helmet. It was an asinine timewaster designed around matching three or more symbols to clear the board but a handy way to waste time in a non-dangerous situation like this. However, before he had had time to make more than few moves on the stage he was currently trying to clear, the zeltrob miss Fainw had seemingly picked up marched out of the room and close by Thel seemed to be  striking out with his lady companion. Poor lad but there was still plenty of time for the kid to seal the deal. Jayec considered momentarily trying to wingman Thel but came to the conclusion that outside of Mandalorian space he was not a very good at wingmanning. For some reason most women in finer circles did not find things like 'I saw him wade through a sea of corpses' as particularly attractive. Go figure.

Miss Faine exited with the 'Generalissimo' few moments later, appearing a touch more disheveled than she had seemed entering the room. Jayec nodded to his employer and quickly fell in after her as she made her way away from the private rooms and towards the dance floors. He gazed at the people dancing and shook his head slightly. "I never got the appeal of this kind of dancing. There isn't any life to it."

[Moonfire]

Moonfire could hardly hear the switch in the music, a woman dressed in brilliant emerald green sauntering out as the lights dimmed low. Finger tightened around a drink she didn’t even want, placed gently in her hand as she’d made her way unspeaking down the steps. Her eyes trained on the doorway of the upstairs parlors, the gathering of unfamiliar faces outside the room Locke and his questionable companion growing ever larger.

Force, that was a problem.

A hand moved for her small clutch purse, fumbling past the solid cylinder of her lightsaber hilt for the smooth rectangle of her holo-comm. It’d been too long, she’d have to call someone. Master S-- Master Balkk? Nearly dropping the device in her efforts to pull it out she watched the door slide open. The glittering figure of a masked woman, tousled white hair in elegant coif about her mask, stepped out arm in arm with the scruffy bodyguard himself. Thumb frozen over the number pad, eyes traced their path, watching in alarm as the couple chuckled and spoke with incredible nonchalance, body language full of jest and openness. Knocked dizzy by relief Moonfire released the breath she’d been holding.

He wasn’t dead. Everything was fine. Absolutely fine. Locke wasn’t dead, no he was arm in arm with a presumed dead Darth, but for all intents and purposes seemed quite alive. Eyes flicked back down to her comm, hovering over a frequency to report this incredibly sensitive information before pausing, watching the pair work their way down the very same staircase she’d just fled. With a huff the young woman sucked in another steadying breath, tossing the comm back into her bag.

Moonfire’s presence, still held tight and close yet twitching didn’t dare reach out. To brush so close to hers felt like suicide. No, now more than ever was maintaining Locke’s cover was the utmost importance. They’d talk about this later. Maybe after the auction? Force, the auction hadn’t even started yet and she was already exhausted, twitchy and wired all at once. Maybe milkshakes could be a thing after this? Thel could--

Oh, shit. Thel. All at once she realized the ramifications this could have on Thel and his life, the Exchange thug overhearing at that a powerful Force-User was on the Moon was a great way to get oneself killed.

Turning about to find the tower of dark-haired man she found herself instead face to face with operatic half-mask and gold. "There are three songs left...That means that are three dances to be had with us.”

It was disarming, the charming tilt of his head and the gentleness of his words juxtaposed with the spike of adrenaline, the squeeze of her heart as tingles and nausea worked their way from the pit of her stomach to buzz like bees between her ears. “Wh-wh--?”

Come on...I have been waiting all night to dance with you."

This, this was fight or flight. The sharp edge of fear begging her to turn tail and run, to leap from the open meadow to the protective brush. No, no, no. Idiot. You’re a Jedi, aren’t you? The cavalcade of self-hatred bid, arriving right on time to cut the noxious dread with harsh spite. At him? At herself? It was hard to tell.

Blinking behind the feline mask the short woman gave a little nod of her head at his final plea, the little qualifier of if she wanted to coming across almost genuine. In sharp contrast to the taunting words of alleyway despite their shared tone. Her eyes flicked back and forth, wanting for a brief moment to refuse him-- To remind him of his presumptuous past when it came to touching her, to remind him of his threat at their last meeting.

Her eyes skimmed the crowd before flicking back to meet his, a hand lifting up in silent consent to be taken in his. No, a scene here wouldn’t be good. It was hard to tell what Zexva would do next, her history with him pointing to erratic actions. No, she couldn’t afford to cause a scene, to inflame the situation further so close to the auction. She’d grant him this dance, despite the knot in her stomach.

[Fromikeable]

Ylva's shouting nearly made Vance jump out of his skin, his tension becoming apparent. Caught between desires to chastise her and to ignore her, he settled for glancing at her, barely listening to what she said. She had a hold on poor Io'an. Vance took a second's hiatus from his predicament to raise his brows at the man apologetically, offering up an expression of "I'm so sorry, she gets like this when she's drunk".

Back to the matter at hand, Vance peered down at the dancefloor. After a moment, he spotted Iris, who looked and felt particularly uneasy. Chewing his bottom lip, he debated how to proceed. What did you say to someone after they'd overheard something like that? How was he supposed to explain anything without giving more away? What could he do to cover things up, to settle suspicions, to keep all of this away from the eyes of Sith and Jedi alike?

When the Sith himself walked up to her, all thinking blinked out of existence. Vance's eyes narrowed at their interaction, his hands stressing into fists as he watched her place her hand in his. Her presence squeaked with terror as his flickered with... what the hell was that, infatuation? Obsession?

Vance resisted the urge to growl. That fucking did it.

"Io'an." Snapping back around like a man possessed, Vance paused as Locke and Lidah arrived from their room, making their way down toward the dance floor with Jayec in tow. Giving them both a look of consideration, he returned his attention to the hacker, who looked positively trapped in Ylva's strong arms.

"The invitations said that anyone caught fighting would be kicked out, right?" Coming near, Vance lowered his voice, his presence undulating with a mixture of emotions. On the one hand, it was thick and heavy, licking its surroundings with the sharpness of murderous intent. On the other hand, it flowed with reservation, almost deep consideration, as though it was too busy fortifying itself to notice much of the outside world.

In truth, it was coming up with a plan.

"I need you to do me a favor. That guy and I are about to get into a huge fight." A finger pointed down at the dancefloor in the area of the now-dancing Iris and Sith. "And I mean a huge fight." A motion of Vance's hands and a nudge of his presence against Io'an's made it clear what "huge" meant.

"I need you to swear to me that you won't let either of us back into the auction when we're caught." Provoking the Sith would be easy enough. Between the smug attitude he'd just tried to blackmail a former Darth with and whatever emotions he was directing toward poor Iris at the moment, Vance doubted that he was exactly humble. At that point, it wouldn't matter who won or lost the fight; after a couple of seconds, the auction's security would have a couple dozen guns trained on them and the situation would be a hard choice between an all-out shootout and a brusque escort outside the building.

Vance would gladly accept being banned from the Blind Auction for the rest of time if it meant bringing tonight's disaster to a close.

[Meira]

"Io'an, that's right. Sorry, bud." Ylva said, tightening her arm around the scrawny man and taking another swig from her drink. She could see how nervous he was, glancing around as if trying to find an escape. Lightening the weight she'd placed on him, Ylva chuckled. "It's alright." she said, drawing out the second vowel in alright and pitching her voice as if soothing a spooked bantha. "You don't have to dance with me if you don't want to." she gave him a firm slap on the back. "But you're missing out. Just sayin'."

"Io'an."

Thel was suddenly standing with them, a serious expression on what she could see of his face. Ylva's smile drooped slightly, her brows furrowing as Lidah's other main enforcer began to speak to Io'an. "Fight?" she echoed, the smile picking back up on her lips. She threw back the last of her drink, downing it in one gulp. "Ahh, yes!" she exclaimed through the burning in her throat. "Who we fighting?"

Thel pointed down to the dance floor as he began his explanations to Io'an. Ylva's eyes followed the pointing finger, having to blink a few times as her alcohol laden brain had some trouble focusing her eyes through the strobe lights. After a moment, however, she saw the pale Zeltron that had prematurely evacuated Lidah's room. "That two pump chump?" Ylva asked, looking back at Thel incredulously. What had he done, other than embarrass himself? Thel, however, seemed to be ignoring her. She looked back down to the floor again. This time, she saw who the Zeltron was currently speaking to. He'd just offered his hand, as if asking to dance, to...

"Oh shit, Thel..." she said, pushing between Arkandri and Io'an to move closer to the railing. "Is that your girl?" she pointed down toward the girl who'd dragged Thel to the private room, and then had fled so quickly. Turning back around, Ylva caught that Thel was soliciting a promise from Io'an to not allow them back in after they got thrown out for fighting. Ylva grinned. This was much more exciting than standing around outside of rooms while other people got their rocks off.

"Hell yeah! Let's fuck him up!"

[Rugs]

The pale-haired woman came up to him as her dark-haired partner strolled toward the dance floor. A credstick emerged in her hand as she sent a payment directly to his account. This was, of course, coupled with a request to delete any recordings--Io’an presumed audio or otherwise — from the room she and the two men had occupied a few moments prior.

Io’an’s brows knit behind his mask. “Ummm... I... sure,” he stammered as she walked off after her partner. Destroying any footage wouldn’t be hard — he could do that in his sleep. But who was she?

How does she know my name? he wondered. And what happened to that presence? Io’an’s sea-green eyes turned back to the room’s now open door. A thought passed through his head as to the woman’s identity.

It made sense, with knowing who he was and the offer for payment to remove the footage. But he’d felt two presences in there. And if that masked woman was her, then-

No, that can’t be right, he told himself as he pushed the thought from his mind.

---

The dance floor was crowded still, as Locke expected it would be for most of the night. The press of bodies had at least loosened enough to allow something resembling easy navigation — for a club — as he led Lidah to a relatively clear spot on the outside edge of the floor.

“So, Ms. Faine,” he said softly against the din of chatter and music, emphasizing her name just slightly as he spoke with Tyrvast’s voice, “is this the part of the job where the lucky bodyguard gets to dance with you?”

It was strange, trying to legitimately enjoy a few moments with her while splitting his focus to keep an eye on their surroundings. But he knew the evening had already been stressful for her, and he didn’t need the Force to feel the tension that seemed to hang like a knife in the air over the auction since that Sith revealed himself. Anything he could do to help, even if just for a moment, he would.

Some slow, sultry song started playing and he took her hand in his, putting his other hand to her waist as he drew in close and started to dance with her.

“Mind the feet,” he said with an earnest smile. “I’ve been told I have two left ones.” In all honesty Locke didn’t dance that often. But he’d learned enough for undercover work that he could manage not to complete embarrass himself, now that he was actually enjoying a dance for the sake of it.

His focus largely remained on Lidah as they danced, turning slowly. They were there, in public, dancing for all of Nar Shaddaa to see, yet still hidden somehow, behind their masks and the lie of him being her employee. It wasn’t as truly free as Locke may have wanted, but it was as free as they could possibly be now, given the circumstances.

“This ain’t so bad,” he said warmly. “Could get used to it, you know.”

Still, he caught a passing glance of Moonfire s they turned. That Sith boy was talking to her. She looked stressed. Locke sighed inwardly, and fought an urge to stalk over and pry the kid off of her.

“That boy is up to something again,” he muttered.

---

“No, it’s not that, Ylva, it’s just that-”

What was it? True, Io’an didn’t want to dance with her — there was a tall blonde boy on the main floor he’d much rather dance with — but saying it like that would be rude, and much meaner than he intended. It wasn’t like he didn’t like Ylva, after all. She was just, well...

“I uh... had some plans, see, and-”

Io’an’s words died in his throat as Thelonious appeared. His eyes were dark and stormy, and his presence loomed like a thunderhead about to burst. Io’an nearly recoiled mentally, but he had nowhere to withdraw, with Thel so close to him.

“Yes,” he said, slowly. “Fighting is forbidden.” It was the only way to ensure some sort of peace, with so many potential rivals crammed into one place. And he had the joy of being the one that tended to disputes. Being a Force user had its drawbacks. His eyebrows drew together. “Why are you asking?”

Io’an leaned over the railing to follow Vance’s finger to its target. That Zeltron--Zexva--was dancing with the woman that Vance had just left a room with. Was this a lover’s quarrel? Ylva put voice to the same question as Io’an’s mind raced.

“That guy is trouble, Thel,” he said quietly. He recalled Zexva’s presence, all darkness and malice and silent threat, from when the Zeltron tracked him down to demand an invitation.

Io’an frowned. Ylva’s egging Thel on wasn’t helping. “If you start something, I’m going to have to throw you out, yes,” he said. “Both of you.”

He looked at Thel. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s got to be some other way to deal with this.”

“Hey, uhhhh, Io’an?” Reflex’s voice pinged in his ear. "Look, don’t go freakin’ out on me, but I’m picking up some weird traffic around the Auction. And check this shit out — looks like it might be coming from the Black Sun. I thought they were banned?"

Io’an suddenly wanted to throw up.