A pleasant evenings dance

[Stephen]

The after party seemed strange. Tense even. Not worth staying if Veston was honest. So he didn't. It wasn't much to find a decent piano bar nearby. The upper crust was never far from their particular vices, and this was as upper crust as you could be without ascending past the pie entirely. A quick note to his personal assistant got him past the door without incident and into the dimly lit, auburn room. He and his plus one were seated in a booth aside the mainstage.



It was enough to wind down the night on a private note, he felt. While it wasn't a waste of time, it wasn't nearly as useful as he had hoped. Still, it was better to be on the periphery than thrust into the limelight before his time. He had shaken some hands, and managed to not let on that he was in any way connected to one of the two largest crime syndicates in the world, so that was at least a start. But that was a bad mindset to be in when he still had someone in front of him. Someone who had asked questions without getting answers. Time enough to rectify that situation.



“I'm a security consultant for a mid rim consulting firm.” A true enough answer if not complete. “We're looking to expand beyond the mid rim, but instability due to the war has us at a stand still.”His business instincts took hold of him for a moment. “You said you were underemployed Doctor Bellamy? We'll I've got a few outreach programs for refugees from the rims that could use skilled experts in reacting and treating the new illnesses that have cropped up on the borders.” A doctor with enough clout to end up a last second snub to the chancellor was a decent enough hr catch. Plus she was decent to talk to, so it was nice enough to have her around. He'd have someone run her resume in the morning. Veston ordered his first glass with a quiet nod, and passed the menu across the table to his guest.



“Order as you like.” He gestured. “I dragged you here, it's only right I handle the wages at the end of the night.” If she ended up interested he could even write it off as a work expense. No wasted effort, even in his pleasure. He smiled into his glass.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

It was exactly the kind of place you saw in the vids. Open late, candles and crystal for light instead of safer and more efficient LEDs. Not a single droid on staff, at least not in the front end. Romantic. Cristine had always wanted to visit such a place, but there had never been credits and time enough in her student days. And later, frivolous expenses would not have met her ex-husband’s exacting standards for public appearances. She supposed nothing could stop her from dining alone, in the future. The thought was exciting, somehow forbidden. Cris grinned at her companion as she sat down across from him. A small, guilty voice in her head kept repeating: I’m not this kind of woman. I don’t go out with men I’ve just met in the early hours of the morning. But it was fun to pretend that she was, just this once, and she was already dressed for it in all her patriotic finery. Lucky her, Mr. LeChance was quite handsome despite his tendency towards extremely vague conversation. That might have raised some flags, but how bad could he possibly be? She’d met him not ten meters from the Supreme Chancellor himself! Not exactly the picture she’d built in her head of stodgy, gray-haired senators. She hoped Eamon and Rahse were enjoying themselves. ”Security consultant?” That could be anything from bodyguards to mercenaries to white-collar slicers. She started to ask more but fell silent as he changed the subject around to focus on her. ”I suppose that’s true. I’m not contracted anywhere at this precise moment. I spent a year managing a walk-in clinic on Wayland – quit after a break in one night. Then I volunteered on Jabiim after their latest outbreak of the Gray Rot.” Cris shrugged apologetically. Plagues weren’t polite conversation, but he had raised the subject. She took the wine menu and browsed, before ordering a mid-priced Alderani white. His manner was strange, as if she’d agreed to work for him already. Which was doubly odd because he hadn’t made a direct offer. ”Would you mind telling me a bit more about these programs? Firstly, why is your consulting firm interested in refugees? I’ve done the charity circuit before and while it’s certainly rewarding work … It’s rarely profitable and effective at the same time.”

[Stephen]

“Okay that's fair.” he said across the table to Cristine. “So as a security consultant. I'm often in charge of making police operations cost less. One of the ways I do this is with outreach programs. They reduce crime and engender the populace to the security corp, and they in general cost less than legal incarceration and recuperation efforts.” This was one of the more genuine answers he had given all night. Although even this had it's awkward and unfortunate asterisks. There was often even larger margins to be made at these camps as controlled black markets with only one marketeer. Even with this light to moderate corruption, the long term effects of the programs had served the Suns well in the poorer parts of the mid rim.

“A lot of firms don't look past the short term in these endeavors. They set up for multiple year long stints, and eat losses on theft and violence without thinking that they could pay a bit up front and cut those losses by half outright.” He nodded politely as the waiter poured their drinks and waited politely for him to leave before beginning again. “It's one of the better moments of my job to be honest.” he spoke truly. It, at the distance he viewed it, was largely uncomplicated and required little mental gymnastics to justify. “The vast majority of the work I do is just a touch too close to clerical.” Another truth. All together there was an just enough here for a talented investigator to figure something out. He switched tracks.

“Tell me about this clinic then. Wayland is quite a ways out from meeting the Chancellor at a private event.” He sipped his wine and sneered a moment. It needed more time to breath, they had seemingly just uncorked it for him. A nice touch but now he was in danger of losing his slight buzz from the party. He struggled through a second drink and crossed his fingers on the edge of the table in front of him. He eyed their food being brought to them by a soberly dressed twenty something and smiled to himself. “It seems you've managed quite well since then at least” he offered to her

[Neology]

Their wine came. Cristine leaned back in her seat and listened attentively as Mr. LeChance answered her question. It was better than an outright refusal but her brows climbed nevertheless. She disliked the idea of viewing people in need as a source of profit, yet she had to ask. He seemed … If not nearly as idealistic as her, at least quietly proud of this work. Of having a chance to do some good while carving out narrow profits to please some transgalactic corporation. Strange he hadn’t mentioned any named yet, the big ones practically owned their people. Even in Republic space. For all that she had warmed to him, she froze up when he asked about Wayland. Slowly, Cristine sipped her wine and set it back down, her hand fluttering to her neck. The scar was very light, the room dim. He was busy looking sour about his wine, she hoped he hadn't noticed. ”Wayland was a … A mistake, I suppose. My father had just passed and I wanted to go somewhere my ex wouldn’t be able to contact me. And it turns out that Imperials need doctors too.” Though saying so on once-embattled Coruscant was unlikely to get her invited to any more of the state’s grand parties. She tossed her hair and smiled defiantly at her dinner partner. ”I liked the work. It was a challenge. In a properly funded hospital, you begin to feel like … Like the machines do all the real work. A doctor is just the messy interface between. Of course, that doesn’t stop me complaining when I must make do without them.” Cris cut neatly into her steak – nearly blue – just as she liked it. A rancher’s daughter, she would have been terribly disappointed to be served overcooked nerf at a restaurant like this. ”Do you only talk about business, Mr. LeChance?”

[Stephen]

“Sorry” Veston apologized. “Large parties like that are very much business ventures and the urge to talk shop after one always creeps in, as much as i'd like to distance myself from it at times like this.” He smiled a touch shamefaced. “Put me at a lovely restaurant with an engaging host and I'll often witter on about logistics and nonsense until I bore you to sleep.” He took another bitter sip of his wine and winced through it, “I'll do better.” he smiled and dragged his knife off the table and into his fingers gave thought to menacing his diner.

Overall his diner was fine. He had had better in his life, but he usually ate much worse. The price point was largely fine and the ambiance was warm and private. He glanced across the table toward Christine. “Did you ever figure out who that barefoot lady was? I still don't understand how she cleared security. It was the strangest damn thing I ever saw.” He paused a moment. “Strange night overall now that I think about it. The Chancellor could have booted a child out the window and it wouldn't have seemed out of place. It was like a county fair.” Slowly his food disappeared as if by osmosis and he became full. He was sure he was eating but he could not remember a single bite for his life. They spoke on, and more food and wine disappeared.

“Dr. Bellamy I think it is time for us to pay this poor man and depart. He made a show of standing up from the table. “I'll go settle the bill and I meet you outside, yes?” He disappeared a moment leaving his credstick at at the front desk and taking a moment to compose himself before stepping out the bathroom, retrieving his credstick and leaving.

“Well I can take you back to your speeder and presumably your perplexed if you like, or we can try to find something else to do with the night.” He stepped over to his waiting stretch and opened the back door for her. The speeder lights blended into pleasant streaks of red and orange through the tinted windows as they sped through the moment.

[Neology]

Cristine nodded, accepting the apology and explanation with good humor. The workaholics were everywhere in her field – and she could hardly be surprised the habit extended to such exalted company. Thankfully, Mr. LeChance allowed the flow of conversation to pass gracefully onto other topics. She began to relax. ”Some dignitary’s daughter, maybe? Hard to imagine security letting something like that go.” The gentleman in the water-repellent suit had been stiffly furious with the young girl. Cris couldn’t place his face, though. She cocked an eyebrow as Veston went on. While her political sensitivities were somewhat underdeveloped, she liked Chancellor Vrieska well enough. Even if most of that vague affection was only based on the fact they shared a homeworld. ”Oooh. I sure hope not.” Truly, the chancellor seemed far too dignified a fellow to be kicking anyone out windows. No calls. Cris shoved her comlink back into her purse and wrapped her shawl back around her shoulders. Despite the hour, the cafe’s front was well lit. In fact, Coruscant’s radiance was enough to dim the stars. A far cry from the carefully sculpted cities of Alderaan – even further from sparsely populated Wayland. She didn’t belong here but it was fun to pretend that she did. Mr. LeChance guided her back to his vehicle, and Cris sank into the plush seating with his question in mind. Delicately worded, of course, but the proposition was clear. ”Rahse will be alright. I’ll leave a message.” She smiled slowly and leaned in, running her fingers along his lapel.