It had taken the last shreds of Laeonas' good mood for him to not grab the concierge by the collar, and slam his balding head into his desk. Aquamarines had narrowed to pointed slits, and it didn't take a force user to feel the anger radiating from him. The twitching in his left eye had stopped, but the verbal slurry that whispered from his lips were filled with venom. It took him awhile for his words to return to something coherent, instead of the endless stream of curses that it had been. "Ai'm friends with tha guy stayin' in tha penthouse. Sennin Rahvelo; ya just got a call, said so yerself."
The concierge looked visibly distressed through the entire situation. Laeonas had met enough people to know the man's type; a classist oaf, to easily intimidated to openly suggest anything about someone's station. The balding human instead chose to hide behind manners, euphemisms. All he'd gone through had been an elaborate attempt at the man to get him to leave. It wasn't clever, it wasn't polite, and as much as he tried, it wasn't even subtle.
It was something that the man had gotten plenty of experience with in recent years, yet he hadn't grown even slightly more comfortable with it. Aggression was something he could take and pass back. Passive aggression was something he didn't know how to respond to. Outward aggression was usually frowned upon under such a situation. But as his patience wore thin, he cared less and less about the repercussions of his actions. "Sir, PLEASE try and calm down. That kind of language isn't appreciated here, and I can't accommodate your reque-"
"Can't accomodate?" Laeonas spat, a hand smacking down onto the desk in front of him. The display, while barely even aggressive, prompted a yelp from the concierge. The temptation to do something more was strong, but he didn't engage. "Ai don't need ya t'accommodate." The man whispered, lifting up the key in his free hand. Pulling his palm away from the desk, the man walked past it and began walking across the lobby. The concierge, visibly distraught, began to speak up, but he would find that there was a knot in his throat.
As the man started to cough, Laeonas would walk across the room with irritated haste. By the time he reached the elevator, the man would be grasping at his throat, leaning over the desk. Entering the top floor, the doors would close, and Laeonas' mental grip on the man's windpipe finally loosened. He stood still as he took the ride up, not a muscle moving while his lungs inhaled and exhaled. Not a muscle... except for those that pulled at the corners of his lips.
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He hadn't spent long in the penthouse. Under normal circumstances he would've taken his time to appreciate the finery within the room. But after his mood had been so badly soured, he was no longer interested in anything this place had to offer. He moved past the comfortable the master bathroom and ignored the kitchen entirely, instead moving straight into the main bedroom. Swinging the door wide open, he'd move across the room to the closet in a matter of seconds. With a cursory glance, he spotted the outfit Senin had wanted him to grab.
Seizing it, Laeonas would turn right on his heels. Walking back out into the main room, he'd proceed to head back into the hallway. He'd entered the room, grabbed Senin's clothes, and left-- all within 45 seconds. Such was his disdain for the building and everything in it that had resulted from the concierge's treatment. It was rare for him to be feel such absolute displeasure for a person or place. Yet the concierge’s treatment had left him fuming.
Arriving back in the lobby, he’d see the concierge at his desk, putting away a comm link. Laeonas made a show of carrying the hangar and clothes over his shoulder. He didn’t gloat any further, simply staring daggers over at the concierge as he continued to rub his throat. Exiting the building, he made his way out onto the front landing pad. That was when he felt it.
“…Senin?”
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