Bee
Internet Hate Machine
- Joined
- Nov 13, 2013
- Messages
- 4,309
- Reaction score
- 906
Calrissian Hall was, in a word, massive. It had to be - unlike the majority of casinos that catered only to humans and their ilk, the multi-level building was designed with the needs of affluent Hutts in mind, who naturally required more space than even the largest of men would ever find themselves in need of. The tables were big, the pools were big, and the bars served drinks large enough to knock even the hardiest of gastropods on his or her back. But there were a few levels where the portions and furnishings were more suited to smaller creatures, and somewhere in between was where Vica chose to spend her credits. She certainly had enough of them - a handful of which had been carefully budgeted for a night of indulgence - and was more than eager to enjoy the sights, sounds, and numerous tables the Hall was home to. It was much classier than what she was used to, and she'd dressed appropriately for the occasion - as much as she could, anyway - in a black dress that didn't stand out from the crowd, while leaving just enough to the imagination that she didn't feel, well, exposed.
There was something about playing dress up that inspired an unshakable confidence in the back of her head, not that she needed it, one that made her spine a little straighter, her walk a little closer to a strut than the slow, easy gait it was more often than not, and having left the card tables with money in her pocket - rather than money left in the hands of those rigged to hell droids! - only contributed to that nigh invincible feeling. It was a good night. Nothing could possibly drag it down.
The keela, which had been helpfully offered by one of the scantily-clad Twi'leks roaming the floor, certainly wasn't hurting, either.
Making her way to the bar in an attempt to exchange her empty glass for one that was full of something alcoholic, keela or not, she took a look to her right and spotted a familiar face. Not too familiar - she knew of him vaguely, and her gaze lingered on his form as though she wasn't quite sure he was the man she thought he was - but enough so that she moved closer, taking an empty seat by his side as the man behind the counter fiddled with the taps and bottles to make her something 'strong and surprising', as requested. "Hey," she gave him a slight upward nod, "I've seen you before, haven't I?" Sure, it wasn't the best opening line, but she wasn't looking to charm his pants off. Not yet, anyway. "You're with the Cartel." It wasn't a statement nor a question, somewhere in between, her attention turning from Edmund to the short glass full of something pale pink that had been set before her. She'd never matched her booze before, but there was a first time for everything.
There was something about playing dress up that inspired an unshakable confidence in the back of her head, not that she needed it, one that made her spine a little straighter, her walk a little closer to a strut than the slow, easy gait it was more often than not, and having left the card tables with money in her pocket - rather than money left in the hands of those rigged to hell droids! - only contributed to that nigh invincible feeling. It was a good night. Nothing could possibly drag it down.
The keela, which had been helpfully offered by one of the scantily-clad Twi'leks roaming the floor, certainly wasn't hurting, either.
Making her way to the bar in an attempt to exchange her empty glass for one that was full of something alcoholic, keela or not, she took a look to her right and spotted a familiar face. Not too familiar - she knew of him vaguely, and her gaze lingered on his form as though she wasn't quite sure he was the man she thought he was - but enough so that she moved closer, taking an empty seat by his side as the man behind the counter fiddled with the taps and bottles to make her something 'strong and surprising', as requested. "Hey," she gave him a slight upward nod, "I've seen you before, haven't I?" Sure, it wasn't the best opening line, but she wasn't looking to charm his pants off. Not yet, anyway. "You're with the Cartel." It wasn't a statement nor a question, somewhere in between, her attention turning from Edmund to the short glass full of something pale pink that had been set before her. She'd never matched her booze before, but there was a first time for everything.