James Justice
Charting new Paths
She could hold her booze better than most, most of the time when the fancy women like here already finished their first bottle, they were fallin off the stool and all that. He had to hand it to her, the woman was stronger than she looked in that regard. And she kept looking at the lil bit on his lap that his arms were around.
"Sonya, off me lap," he muttered giving the woman a pat on the thigh.
"But I am so cozy," the stripper, who's real name was Bethany whined as she rose to her feet.
"I be so sorry," James said sincerely placing both hands on his chest, "I didn't realize what was goin' on. I dun' know where I left me manners at. I shoulda been thinkin' an' I guess I got overwhelmed with all the party planning and feeling all the energy around here with the booze, the spice, and the dancin'," he waved the strippers over, both male and female, "Do ye want one? If ye dun' like what ye see here, I would be more than glad to find one that suits ye fancy. Whatta ye like? I got all races, all genders, hell even a shemale wookiee and a male glam Gamorrean, all ye could dream of, we got it."
He pulled one of his Tatoowine Reds, his favorite cheap cigarettes, Bethany leaned in lighting it for him as she perched on the couch. The crime lord offered his guest one, after all, he had to be a great host. He took a deep inhale, savoring the sweet delicious smokey flavor, and the feeling of the pure hedonism around him. More smoke went into his lungs than most beings would consider physically possible, and in one drag he burned through almost half the light. He was vaguely aware of two presences that were like burrs on a silk sheet, two that weren't quite mixing with the flow of the pure delight. Before he even had a chance to consider ferriting out [member="Ryan Korr"] and [member="Naomi Carolina"], [member="Rashae"] pulled him back to the present metioning him calling her mother a bag.
He choked on the smoke deep in his lungs, it came out both his nose and mouth, "I--I beg ye pardon, I woah," he raised his free hand in an objecting but apologetic gesture, smoke coming out of his mouth with each word like a dragon "Ye misunderstood me, I would never call a woman a bag, even if she was one," she mentioned how he liked his women, "Oh I do like 'em perky, but ye know, as far as 90's go, I did go scraping around there once, but I think the oldest was 76, and a rather smokin' 76."
His eyes squinted at the name Beverly Louvous, before he reclined back and took a long drag on his cigarette reminiscently. A trail of grey smoke hissed from his lips before the spacer began to recall fondly, "Ah, I remember a Beverly Louvous once from Alderaan. Woman looked a bit like ye, only uglier. She were one hella fine. The lady had a lot going on up front, even more going on down back," he shook his head with delightful remembrance as Bethany put a bottle of hard liquor to the crime lord's lips. He drank several gulps before speaking again, "If ye catch me drift. She backed that up on me, all over me on the dance floor. Honestly, I were younger then, by 2 an' a half decades, just comin' to me abilities. I dun't barely have to spin em on her afore she were on me," he let off a puff of his cigarette, "that girl were all about the GlitterRyl. Girl reeked of it with wide eyes and powder all in her dress," he gave a wave of his cigarette and a fond sigh, "She insisted that we go to the--what was it--Jade Ocean hotel? Aye, that was it," he shook his head, "That was one hellva lost weekend."
It was almost like listening to your dad talk about those gold old days with the grand football games he did, back in the day. Except this one happened. He looked at Rashae, furrowing his eyebrows. Every time he looked at her, he got that strange feeling again, "How old are ye, exactly?"
Statistics? Oh right. He never did his numbers and learning right. The man hated paperwork anyway, his desk was a lost ocean of forms and such that had yet to be filled out or looked at for years. He grabbed a bottle off the table, one of many, and hurrled it back blindly over his shoulder, "GREED!"
The bottle flew through the air, unseen but guided by the Force as it landed smack on the faceplate of a protocol droid that looked like it was pretty accustomed to such abuse. It waddled forward patiently, "Yes, master?"
"Give the numbers and things," he said waving towards Rashae as he flicked the cigarette back at the droid. Another blind and flawless hit. Bethany was quick to produce a replacement from his pocket as the droid handed the woman a datapad with all the requested intel in surprising order.
"Sonya, off me lap," he muttered giving the woman a pat on the thigh.
"But I am so cozy," the stripper, who's real name was Bethany whined as she rose to her feet.
"I be so sorry," James said sincerely placing both hands on his chest, "I didn't realize what was goin' on. I dun' know where I left me manners at. I shoulda been thinkin' an' I guess I got overwhelmed with all the party planning and feeling all the energy around here with the booze, the spice, and the dancin'," he waved the strippers over, both male and female, "Do ye want one? If ye dun' like what ye see here, I would be more than glad to find one that suits ye fancy. Whatta ye like? I got all races, all genders, hell even a shemale wookiee and a male glam Gamorrean, all ye could dream of, we got it."
He pulled one of his Tatoowine Reds, his favorite cheap cigarettes, Bethany leaned in lighting it for him as she perched on the couch. The crime lord offered his guest one, after all, he had to be a great host. He took a deep inhale, savoring the sweet delicious smokey flavor, and the feeling of the pure hedonism around him. More smoke went into his lungs than most beings would consider physically possible, and in one drag he burned through almost half the light. He was vaguely aware of two presences that were like burrs on a silk sheet, two that weren't quite mixing with the flow of the pure delight. Before he even had a chance to consider ferriting out [member="Ryan Korr"] and [member="Naomi Carolina"], [member="Rashae"] pulled him back to the present metioning him calling her mother a bag.
He choked on the smoke deep in his lungs, it came out both his nose and mouth, "I--I beg ye pardon, I woah," he raised his free hand in an objecting but apologetic gesture, smoke coming out of his mouth with each word like a dragon "Ye misunderstood me, I would never call a woman a bag, even if she was one," she mentioned how he liked his women, "Oh I do like 'em perky, but ye know, as far as 90's go, I did go scraping around there once, but I think the oldest was 76, and a rather smokin' 76."
His eyes squinted at the name Beverly Louvous, before he reclined back and took a long drag on his cigarette reminiscently. A trail of grey smoke hissed from his lips before the spacer began to recall fondly, "Ah, I remember a Beverly Louvous once from Alderaan. Woman looked a bit like ye, only uglier. She were one hella fine. The lady had a lot going on up front, even more going on down back," he shook his head with delightful remembrance as Bethany put a bottle of hard liquor to the crime lord's lips. He drank several gulps before speaking again, "If ye catch me drift. She backed that up on me, all over me on the dance floor. Honestly, I were younger then, by 2 an' a half decades, just comin' to me abilities. I dun't barely have to spin em on her afore she were on me," he let off a puff of his cigarette, "that girl were all about the GlitterRyl. Girl reeked of it with wide eyes and powder all in her dress," he gave a wave of his cigarette and a fond sigh, "She insisted that we go to the--what was it--Jade Ocean hotel? Aye, that was it," he shook his head, "That was one hellva lost weekend."
It was almost like listening to your dad talk about those gold old days with the grand football games he did, back in the day. Except this one happened. He looked at Rashae, furrowing his eyebrows. Every time he looked at her, he got that strange feeling again, "How old are ye, exactly?"
Statistics? Oh right. He never did his numbers and learning right. The man hated paperwork anyway, his desk was a lost ocean of forms and such that had yet to be filled out or looked at for years. He grabbed a bottle off the table, one of many, and hurrled it back blindly over his shoulder, "GREED!"
The bottle flew through the air, unseen but guided by the Force as it landed smack on the faceplate of a protocol droid that looked like it was pretty accustomed to such abuse. It waddled forward patiently, "Yes, master?"
"Give the numbers and things," he said waving towards Rashae as he flicked the cigarette back at the droid. Another blind and flawless hit. Bethany was quick to produce a replacement from his pocket as the droid handed the woman a datapad with all the requested intel in surprising order.