Ask Coruscant Somewhere in the Dark

[Emil Ro]

When Emil Ro was a young man, he frequented establishments for gay beings on Balmorra. The outings had never led to anything but a few flings with men who liked him for the wealth they perceived he had, or to access his connections once he began his meteoric rise in politics. Since becoming the Chancellor, though, he had not been able to live the life of an ordinary man. But tonight, with everything happening in the galaxy, Emil decided to ignore conventions and go in undercover.

He entered cloaked and hooded. It wasn't completely unusual for patrons of the bars on Coruscant to do so, particularly when they wanted to be left alone. He wasn't there for the dancing anyways. He just needed to be around people again. Ordinary people. People who didn't recognize him and didn't care about Firrerre or Denon, the Jedi or the Sith or the Consortium, the Free Worlds Alliance. More importantly, he needed a drink of a stronger variety than they served in the Senate Building.

Emil seated himself at the far end of the bar. The Dowutin barkeep swung by after making his rounds to existing customers and offered him a drink. He selected an ale from the Rim worlds, but the barkeep looked at him twice before he left. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

Emil thoughtlessly waved his hand. "No, you've never seen me."

The Dowutin's eyes glazed over, causing Emil to frown. "I've never seen you before," he repeated before stalking off.

Minutes later he had not returned. He had not so much as looked in Emil's direction. The Chancellor looked down at his own two hands and cursed. Another byproduct of this accursed power he didn't understand. He was beginning to hate the Force. @Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

UNCE UNCE UNCE​

It'd been a shockingly long time since Morgan had been to anything even resembling a nightclub. He hadn't even realized it until lately. Something about the neon lights and thrum of bass called to him and he wasn't in any mood to deny himself. In an ordinary setting away other things he could forget everything else and dress in whatever clothes without anyone caring in the least. Plus, his face wasn't connected to his professional occupation. But of course it couldn't just simple, right?

While sitting at one end of the bar and drinking some reddish-looking concoction he'd been approached by a particularly tall example of the Barabel species. Morgan's brows rose a bit for all of two seconds before they furrowed as the reptilian being immediately went off about how terrible recent events must of been for him and wondering if the Firrerreo would like some company.

"First of all," he began icily, "You didn't introduce yourself. Second, your pickup lines are atrocious and wouldn't even work on the truly desperate. Go away." Morgan shooed the Barabel off with his fingers and immediately stopped paying any attention to them. Something about his demeanor didn't brook much argument and the other being shuffled off in a storm of aggrieved grumbling while the Firrerreo sipped his drink.

At least the night was mostly peaceful. Morgan had just finished that thought when a cloaked figure skulked into the bar. Immediately he had a little interest. Even more when the bartender shuffled away after asking something he couldn't hear over the music playing, a familiar flicker in the air. Morgan decided to investigate.

Quiet as a cat he padded from his seat, around other patrons, and slipped around to the side of the becloaked figure. Morgan sat in the adjacent end seat and leaned his arm against the bar, cheek balanced on his upward palm. The Firrerreo slightly grinned, golden eyes bright in the dimmed lighting.

"Is that fashionable where you're from?"

@Mockingjay

 

[Emil Ro]

Emil was just about ready to give the night a quit when he spotted the man sliding into the seat next to him. The man was younger than he, infinitely better dressed, and had a pair of golden eyes that shone like newly polished amber. And while he was sure that the shadow of his hood hid most of his facial features, he couldn't help but tug the cloak a little tighter around him. The younger man was staring, and there was always the chance of recognition.

Even so, Emil couldn't help the grin that crawled up the side of his face. "Decidedly not," he said. "Where I'm from, this ensemble would be completed with a tattered poncho and dressed with toxic sludge for perfume. Courtesy of the military industrial complex."

Just thinking about Balmorra was enough to make Emil shutter. He had not seen home since his election to the Chancellory and that was probably for the best. Assuming he didn't go the way of his predecessor, forcibly removed by the Senate in the coming days, he would be happy if he never laid eyes on his homeworld again.

But before he could say as much, he recognized the younger man's features. Gold-tinted skin, slightly wild look to his features. Emil was staring at a Firrerreo. Of course he would meet a Firrerreo here. After all that had happened.

"And you," he continued, thankful again that the cloak could hide his features and his shock. "Come to drink away the recent news, I presume? That makes two of us." @Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

The other man drew his cloak in closer and this did absolutely nothing to ward off the buzzed Firrerreon's curiosity. Especially since his sensitive eyes could see perfectly well in the dark and he'd caught the curve of a grin on the mystery man's face beneath the otherwise concealing folds of his hood.

Morgan sipped his drink. Even at a mild distance it smelled fairly strong.

"That's... terrible," he said flatly and grimaced at the other man's description. Obviously one of many industrial planets that either couldn't afford or didn't bother with environmental countermeasures. Gross. "Good of you to move past being a walking biohazard."

He knew when he was being stared at. Morgan shuffled in his seat, one leg up with a foot balanced on a metal rung while the other remained on the ground. His posture was halfway toward the man he spoke to, open and casually self-confident while taking up his own space next to the cloaked man. A lazy grin slowly widened over his face where the hint of sharp fangs showed.

It promptly turned into a deep frown at the mention of 'recent news', eyes curiously still. "And then I was suddenly reminded of them," Morgan commented dryly, thinking of the Barabel. The other man probably wasn't from Firrerre. Humans were rare because of the higher gravity and he didn't smell like one of Morgan's people. Golden eyes turned from the cloaked man to look at some abstract wall fixture, distracted by his own thoughts.

"Which parts are you drinking for?"

@Mockingjay

 

[Emil Ro]

"Take your pick," Emil replied.

It was hard to decide exactly where to begin drinking. Did he start with the bombing of Firrerre? That seemed like a reasonable enough place to begin; but there were other options. The tense moments in the Senate Building watching the retaliation at Denon. The media firestorm that followed. Or maybe it was Master Voran showing up at his office two nights later to offer her help, only to leave him further questioning his place in the galaxy.

Emil realized when he was being overly rueful and glanced down at the younger man from behind the hem of his cowl. The exuberance that had lit his features was gone, replaced by a gloomy, mournful frown. Some part of the Chancellor recognized he was being insensitive by bringing up the planet's destruction, but they were clearly both here for the same thing and he had heard that strangers could bond over shared irritation.

"The bombing of Firrerre was bad enough. Now it seems the fires are everywhere," he said. Finally, the bartender came around and, having forgotten their earlier interaction, asked them for drinks. Emil ordered a strong glass of Alsakan whiskey and told the bartender to put the younger man's drink on his tab. This time, he avoided haphazardly waving his hand.

"What about you?" Emil asked as he waited for his drink. "Any family on-world? Or were you spared that unfortunate catstrophe?" @Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan didn't want to take his pick, it was all terrible for one reason or another. He didn't like thinking about it and that was why he was in this specific place at all. An uncomfortable grimace somewhere between snarling and frowning settled on the Firrereon's face when the cloaked stranger mentioned the bombing of Firrerre.

Immediately he decided it was a mistake to try keeping himself busy out in public since this was at least the seventh time it'd been mentioned and it brought up far too many things that made him want to hit someone really, really hard. Morgan took an especially solid drink of whatever this red thing the bartender recommended was.

"The fires are everywhere," he agreed both sharply and with a tense stiffness to him that he tried to get rid of. Morgan was quickly distracted by the other man putting the Firrerreo's drinks on his own tab. His brows furrowed. "I can-" a long pause, during which he dropped his objection and forced himself to move on. It was fine. Totally fine. It didn't bother him at all, he told himself, as he ordered a strong bourbon.

"Everything we had burned," he said after an even longer pause. "So now I'm here." Instead of where he both wanted and didn't want to be. None of it made sense to him. Morgan finished his drink while the bartender prepared the next.

"Now there's Denon too," Morgan continued in a fairly transparent attempt at changing the subject. "Barely anyone bothers fighting the Sith that way."

@Mockingjay

 

[Emil Ro]

For the first time that evening, and perhaps in days, a grin slid across Emil's face. "Aye, the new Chancellor has some balls," he said, sipping again at his drink. "Sparring with the senator from Fondor on the floor of the Senate day in and day out will do that to you. Or so I hear."

He shouldn't be so revealing, but it had been so long since he'd had a genuine human conversation. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed socializing before he was chained to his desk day and night. Still, the young man's obvious discomfort wasn't lost on him. Firrerre had been a poor choice of conversation. One he ached to save them both from, lest they spend the night drowning in their own regrets.

"I also hear there's a private club next door with good music and better drinks," Emil added. "This place is nice, but I'd really rather ditch the hood and cloak. Maybe do a little dancing." The Chancellor couldn't believe he was actually considering this. Even in a place closed to the press, there was likely to be someone there who recognized him. But at this exact moment in his life, he didn't care. "It would be a shame if I had to go alone."

He left the offer hanging in the air. Vague enough so that the other man wouldn't feel guilty for slipping out and declining, vague enough that Emil wouldn't feel embarrassed for asking. And yet there would be no mistake about his intentions. He wanted out of this joint, and he didn't want to think about bombings or war for the rest of the night. @Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Bemusedly a brow rose when the Chancellor was mentioned. Morgan had only ever seen Emil Ro on the holonet before and his actions on Denon were the source of a massive amount of-

He took a drink and forced his mind elsewhere through the burn of harsh alcohol. Even so the cloaked man's words were coming together into a more complete picture about the kind of person he was. At the very least he was fond of the Chancellor despite the broader public opinion forming around him. Unfortunately for Morgan's hyper-perceptive norm he was both drinking and actively trying not to think about anything much just then and he moved on.

"Private?" he quietly questioned aloud, slender fingers tightening slightly around his glass. Morgan didn't know what he thought about that or the idea of dancing with another man. His shoulders drooped the moment he let his mind wander too far. Then the Firrerreo straightened back up with an effort of will. "Sure, why not? Cloak probably doesn't suit you anyway."

The smile on his face was genuinely friendly, appreciating the easy change of subject and offer of companionship. Anything to not think anymore and keep his heart from pounding.

"I'll grace you with my company," Morgan added. "But don't try anything or I'll hit you." He blinked, wondering why he'd bothered saying that. It'd just come out.

The Firrerreo slipped his flashy jacket up over his shoulders and stood from the bar and finished his second drink. Slender fingers settled on a pants pocket where a datapad sat all on their own.

@Mockingjay

 

[Emil Ro]

Emil was pleased the Firrerreo agreed to his plan. But the next few minutes were filled with immense panic. As he led them out of the club they had initially chosen towards the private one next door, his entire focus was on the reveal. Once the cloak and hood were off, there would be no mistaking who he was. What would the reaction be? Would anhyone see or care? And what about the younger man? He might have come to the bar to play, but he had never bargained on meeting the Supreme Chancellor when he did.

Outside, he mostly remained silent. Once, his thoughts flickered to the last thing the stranger had said. And though he wasn't planning on "trying anything," a quick peak at the man's ass had him tempted. The scandal of it all excited him. He could see the headlines in the tabloids now.

Supreme Chancellor Emil Ro Spotted Entering His Coruscant Apartment With Mysterious Lover

What would Jin say? The Senator from Fondor would not let such an observance escape the next meeting of the Senate. And yet he didn't find himself caring much. It felt good to just be a human for once, with all of its attendant curiosities and needs.

When they were at last inside and Emil was sure they weren't followed, he fulfilled his promise. But not without a short warning. "You might want to brace yourself," he said. Then the deed was done, the cloak was off, and he was himself.

The clothing he wore underneath was a tremendous improvement, though he still felt he wasn't dressed properly for a dance. He would offer one nonetheless. "Assuming you don't break for the door in the next ninety seconds, a dance sounds like the next logical course of action." He grinned extending a hand. "And maybe we can talk about something a little less dismal." @Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

NEW CLUB MUSIC​

It wasn't anything on the cloaked man's face that gave away a sense of anxiety so much as the subtle stiffness he moved with beneath his cloth coverings. That and the fact he was wearing one at all meant he didn't want to be recognized in the first place, but here he was deciding he'd tired of the whole thing.

Morgan meanwhile didn't seem bothered by others seeing his face, although he did subtly avoid bumping into people too often. The Firrerreo was a Sith but this situation was precisely the kind of reason Sith often chose to wear helmets. If Morgan was accosted by someone screaming about death cult terrorists or the Knights of Ren every time he went out somewhere he'd lose his mind.
Amicably he ended up walking ahead of his new companion instead of behind to watch how they moved around. They were probably looking at his ass or something but looking had never bothered the Firrerreo in the least. Besides which Morgan wasn't exactly kidding when he'd mentioned hitting him. He tolerated touching exactly as far as he felt like at any given time.

All in all Morgan did as he pleased, fickle and flighty as a cat most of the time. He let their change of location pass in silence, finding the even dimmer lighting and abundance of smaller themed dance rooms, in-wall booths, and a sign that warned against taking pictures definitely fit the idea of privacy.

A brow raised and Morgan smirked a little with curious amusement at the human's warning. Goldens watched the cloak slide off the other man, revealing a crimson coat with abundant buckles and straps that worked the look somehow or other. Morgan's eyes moved up to Emil's face and took it in a moment, brows raising and smirk widening into a grin.

His head tilted ever so slightly to the left, quiet in his contemplative consideration.

"I'm sorry," he began, "Do I know you?" As if he had no idea who the Supreme Chancellor was. All the same after a moment's pause a hand came forward to casually take Emil's. Morgan stepped forward and allowed the other man to lead at the start. At the same time the way Morgan moved kept him from being any closer than a few inches for the time being even as he'd to sink into the pounding music.

@Mockingjay

 

[Emil Ro]

Emil wasn't used to being stunned to silence. Usually, the people around him were doing their best to shut him up. He was, after all, known for being a talker. But the idea that a man in a bar on Coruscant would not recognize the leader of the entire bloody New Republic was so alien an idea that Emil didn't know whether to be insulted or to laugh. Had he really not left an impression in the press? Or had this man just been hiding with his head buried in the dunes of some Force-forsaken desert world on the Rim? Perhaps the news of his homeworld's destruction had driven him to a psychotic break and he'd simply... forgotten who the Supreme Chancellor of the New Republic was.

Emil wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh, but his intentions were cut off when the man took him by the hands and swept him onto the floor for a dance. He did his best to lead despite the storm raging in his head. Did he dare tell the stranger who he was? Or was his ignorance a sign from the Force that identities were best left off the table? He banished the second question almost at once. If this man didn't know who he was now, he would soon. Once glance at the HoloNet after tonight would confirm it.

Emil wanted ahead of that. "You don't," he replied. "But you should. Remember how I said the new Chancellor has balls? I might have been speaking from experience." He cringed the moment those words out of his mouth and decided at once they would not be the last words he spoke. "What I meant to say was, I am him. Emil Ro, at your service."

He flashed a grin but false confidence did nothing to quiet his nerves. This was absurd. The Chancellor dancing with a stranger in a private club while war raged around him. The headlines practically wrote themselves. And yet, despite the way his pulse quickened, the way his stomach lurched, he couldn't fully bring himself to care. Fuck the press and fuck the war. As long as his date didn't deem it fit to dump alcohol on his face and leave, tonight was about what he wanted; and what he wanted was to dance. @Mr. Teatime

 

[Darth Stolas]

Morgan's lips twitched upward toward a smile without quite reaching one. Emil was clearly taken aback by what he'd say. That or he was just generally distracted as the two men began to dance. Once they were on the floor Morgan let go of the other man's hands and moved smoothly to the rhythm, thin coat fluttering around him, colours distorted in the flashing neon lighting. He danced close, not quite touching.

Emil's meandering introduction was clearly funny to Morgan. The more the human spoke the higher dark brows rose with amusement, one side of his mouth curling upward. Of course he knew who the Chancellor was, but this way was much more fun. Especially when it got an awkward expression out of the most important man in the New Republic.

"I know who you are," he informed Emil with a mischievous twinkle behind golden eyes, "Were you expecting shock and awe?" Morgan gave a very fake gasp of surprise and spoke in monotone. "Oh wow. It's you. In person," then grinned even wider. Obviously he didn't care what position Emil held. He was here to have fun and distract himself, not get an autograph. The Firrerreo wasn't one to be intimidated by that sort of thing.

"But since you're at my service," he said during the pause between one bass-filled song and the next, "You're going to keep getting me drinks, yes?" Morgan gave his most charming smile, head slightly tilted, and easily sank into the rhythm of the new music.

@Mockingjay