Death by Glamour

[Ash Whynn]

The Jewel of Yavin - a brilliant corusca gem that had spent just as much time getting heisted as it had been on display. Few other jewels could claim to have passed through as many hands as this one, and aside from the sort of crystal that went int lightsabers, perhaps no other jewels had had as much blood spilt over them. With a reputation and history like that, was it any surprise that the massive estate of Hurkl Bleflesog, the current owner of the Jewel of Yavin, had his estate locked down with the best security his arms-dealing money could buy? At least three dozen heavily armed guards, state-of-the-art laser defenses in the double-sealed vault the Jewel was contained in, and a number of other rather deadly features. Hilo was outside of major government control, after all, so a wealthy person's defenses were often as exaggerated as they wished.

A big job like this was the perfect thing to catapault Ash's career into the big time, in more ways than one. And she'd been preparing for months.

Every fortress had a weak point, and in Ash's case, that weak point was Hurkl's son, Korl. A professional heir and the very picture of trust-fund excesses, Korl was a Twi'Lek with a taste for the finer things in life. Especially on his birthday, an event upon which enough credits had been spent to possibly support a small government all on it's own. Live music, drugs... and of course, women. The Oiran Companion's guild typically didn't feel the need to provide for the needs of large parties, but they weren't the only organization with a large number of pretty young sentients on retainer. Ash had contacts with one such organization through her day job as a fashion model, as the latter tended to attract recruiters for the former.

Therefore, on a night where there were likely no less then a dozen criminals all gearing up for the score of a lifetime with high-end guns and gadgets, Ash Whynn arrived in a slinky black dress and heels, conveyed to the hilltop estate via limo with about five other giggling young women. She didn't dare assume that she was the only person making it in the front door without a problem, even as she passed through the front door and into the thumping, obnoxious music filling the interior of the estate, but rather than keep an eye out for any potential rivals, she focused her attentions on blending in and getting the lay of the land.

The party was confined to the first floor, though that was more than enough space. The vault, according to her research, was likely on either the third floor, in Hurkl's office, or in the basement. Security was about as equally determined to keep the throngs of partying young people out of either, but that was fine.

She had all night to chose one and make her move. For now, it was best to enjoy the champagne and blend in. Which is exactly what she did.

 

[Henry Chinko]

Young people...​

​

I don't know when I became the poster boy for rich kids with nothing better to do but blow their parents money​

on things that they could be embarrassed of later. I don't know, maybe it's the fact that all of my books have enough​

sex and drugs in them to kill that one giant Firaxan Shark on Manaan when she's in heat, but these kids are coming​

out of the woodwork in droves to buy my novels. I guess it helps that I'm back in the news with The Awoken making​

me look edgy and important again.​

​

Of course, there is still no one who likes my poetry. ​

​

Henry Chinko was at another party, sitting in the corner, scribbling in his notebook. He was desperately too few drinks in; the cocktail waitresses that this trust-fund kid had hired for his birthday party tended to favor the young women. Probably not a matter of personal proclivity, but a directive of the host. Certainly the birthday boy would rather have the giggling girls in this mansion good and drunk before the washed-up novelists got their fair share.

Hank had to hand it to the little sleazeball-in-training. He couldn't say he would do it any differently, with this much money.

Well, if it were me, people would be allowed to smoke inside, Hank corrected.

Korl, the Twi'lek heir apparent to the Bleflesog fortune, had sent Hank a message days before imploring his "favorite novelist" to be at his birthday party. He couldn't say he was thrilled with the key demographic that had risen up to demand the books of his earlier years, but he had to give thanks for whoever was buying his drinks.

No one knew better than Hank that nothing new was getting written under his name.

The host had yet to appear, though he had arranged for Hank to be personally escorted to the estate. ​But I guess once I got here I'm on my karking own, Hank thought as a waitress passed him by for the fifth time without refilling his drink. Still, Korl had implored Hank to enjoy the party, and not to leave until the two had personally shared a drink together to "Talk Coruscant Underwater."

Hank couldn't say he was too thrilled at the prospect of entertaining a child's opinion of the only book of his anyone reads. At the moment, he spied several young women in tight, short dresses that appealed to him much more. If he had any nerve, he'd get up and whip out some of the classic Chinko Charm...

MAYBE ONCE I GET THIS KARKING DRINK REFILLED!!!

[member="Ash Whynn"]

 

[Damian Starchaser]

Damian got invited to a lot of parties since starting his new fashion company. What's more the young man got a lot of requests for models or to dress attendees of parties which he mostly politely declined. That wasn’t to say there couldn’t be profit both in credits and exposure in such ventures but rather too many of such fulfilled requests would lessen the overall effect.

Then again Damian wasn’t Damian here. He was Chuck Finley, a young man of some note who smuggled a number of goods. Not through dedicated smuggler ships, at least not all the time but rather he had a network of men and women on various bulk freighters where he could manage to get items of worth smuggled into ports under the noses of authority, a business he had inherited through his father. Thus was his reputation.

A few old smuggling contacts were able to put the word out and vouch for him and thus his invitation to the current affair. Korl, an indignant brat of a twi’lek, was the son of a notorious arms dealer. And he liked to flaunt his inherited wealth. More importantly though, he believed himself a player, he wanted to make moves and that made him the weak link. That was just fine. Damian always thought that if you played in dirt you were going to get dirty.

Damian accepted a glass of fine wine as a waiter passed by. He took a sip and smiled at his host offering his glass to the air in a polite salute. It was only a matter of time until the man approached him about a job, or a new deal. Still Damian had to be patient. You don’t chase a fish in the pod, you let it come to you. Rule one of survival.

In attendance there was a number of young people, many from affluent criminal families of the galaxy with a few more legitimate people thrown in. They probably thought it was a grand show, or adventure, being in a room full of gangsters and racketeers. For Damian it was just a part of life. There was perks though, which included a number of pretty young women imported throughout the galaxy. There was of course Twi’leks in fair numbers but also humans, zelosians, zeltrons, and even a togruta running around.

Damian approached one of the woman and with his best smile asked how she was doing. “My name is Chuck, Chuck Finley.”


[member="Ash Whynn"]
[member="Henry Chinko"]

 

[Ash Whynn]

[member="Henry Chinko"] [member="Damian Starchaser"]

People from all over. Ash didn't mind it so much - sure, people were a complication to any job, but people were also her primary method of camouflage. And she wasn't too worried about being recognized, as the Galaxy was a big place and there was a limited extent that the galaxy could take notice of a single mundane thief, even if she was Tionese nobility. Years of socialiing and rubbing elbows at parties like this, most of them larger and fancier, allowed Ash to sort of slip into autopilot while she gathered information, wandering the party with the pack of young women she'd arrived with. Giggles, gossip, meaningless conversation. It was fun, in a way, and if she wasn't here to do a job then she would have absolutely been more engaged.

The guards were rotating positions intermittently, and one of them had a recently-applied bandage to his arm. They hadn't been changing positions before, so something had changed. Ash's money was on that they'd caught one of her rivals, and had patched a hole that that would-be-thief had exploited. She couldn't help but wonder if the unlucky person had managed to do ore damage than just a cut to someone's arm with what Ash guessed was a basic combat knife.

One of the girls bumped hips with Ash and said something teasing about staring at men in uniforms, and for her part, Ash pretended to be flustered and caught for the amusement of the group. They were bouncing around the idea of heading for the hot tub, and while that did sound like a lot of fun, Ash was a little to impatient to case the mansion from the inside to spend an hour or so in the water, wrapping herself around people she had no intention of spending any serious time with. It'd be easy enough to say she had to use the bathroom first, then apologize later for getting caught up in some sort of distraction, so that's what Ash did - pulling away from the pack of young women to see if she could gather any more information.

Less than half a minute later, she was shown why it was much easier for young women to travel in groups if they wanted to get anything done. A skinny guy with good taste in clothes, a smug demeanor, and finger-brushable hair had taken it upon himself to make her acquaintance.

"Hello, Chuck-Chuck Finley." Ash replied with a teasing smile - the very line between snarky and flirty, that smile. This was just a little speed bump, then she could get back to work. If nothing else, Chuck Chuck Finley would make for a very convenient excuse as to why she hadn't ever made it to the hot tub, and it was even better that she'd most likely be spotted with him. She quirked an eyebrow slightly and offered the guy a warmer smile, leaning her hip against something nearby and convenient. Likely a bar. "Care to help me find a glass of champagne while you chat me up? I feel like there's nowhere near enough servers with drinks around here..."

 

[Damian Starchaser]

Damian smiled and nodded at the woman lifting to fingers to get the attention of the errant barman. Normally he didn’t bother the bartender, they were generally on top of things and knew who needed service and who didn’t, but he was playing a role. “Can I get two glasses of champagne for me and the lady,” he asked as the man approached. From his manner of dress he could tell the man was a Corellian. After the fall of that planet he had probably hit lean times. Damian put a credit chit on the table, a generous tip.

“Thank you sir,” the bartender said rushing off to fill the order. Although drinks were free he doubted many of the men and women here bothered to tip. Rich people often took things for granted.

Upon looking back behind the bar for a brief second Damian saw a sight that amused him to no end. A bottle of his company's very own wide hidden on the bottom shelf. Well apparently that was making the rounds. Then his eyes scanned the crowd and security. It was tight, but nothing that can’t be beaten. Of course if everything went well there would be no need to beat security tonight.

“So how are you enjoying this party?” Damian asked as the bartender returned with two glasses and a bottle of rather nice champagne. That was the other perk of tipping well, unbidden there was a chance they would bring you the best top shelf liquor instead of the poorer quality swill that most people didn’t even realise they were drinking. Damian smiled at the man and nodded politely before turning back to the rather attractive woman. She seemed to be his age, or rather his apparent age. Cloning could be a complicated mess. “It is a decadent affair. Makes me wonder what brings you here Miss?” He let his voice trail at the end of the sentence waiting eagerly to hear this womans name.

[member="Ash Whynn"]

 

[Ash Whynn]

"Whynn." She reported with a smile, accepting the glass of champagne with the sort of comfortable grace of one who has had it many, many times before in environments just like this one. Her eyes turned up with the smile, a genuine measure of warmth that'd taken some time to master. "And what can I say? I love a good party." It wasn't wrong, after all. The glitz, the glamour, the music, the drunk folk who weren't paying as much attention as they likely should have been - what wasn't there to love? Besides, who wanted to admit that they were hired to attend the party like a living decoration? A way to appeal to the real movers and shakers who'd been invited to 'bask' in Korl's inherited affluence? As a model, Ash wasn't unused to the idea of being a decoration, but she had no illusions about it being particularly dignified. And in a context like this one, she imagined that someone might assume she was hired for more intimate services than just being pretty to look at.

Speaking of things to look at, she wasn't going to be able to case much of the place by standing around and getting chat up by a guy who seemed to be entirely comfortable being a barflower. But if she played her cards right, she could use him as her ticket to some sort of progress.

"Sooo... Chuck-Chuck." Ash purred teasingly, glancing towards the dance floor meaningfully as she sipped her champagne. "We could stand here and have all the boring conversation you can get in any bar in the Galaxy... or, you could invite me to dance while we chat." She suggested, letting her words blend a little to imply that she'd already had a couple drinks or was perhaps a bit more frisky than she might be otherwise. Baiting the hook, mostly. "If the floor is a little crowded for you, maybe the veranda would appeal more?" It was ever-so-slightly chilly outside, after all - and since people were allowed to smoke inside, there weren't many people outside the party. A good place to get a look at things.

 

[Damian Starchaser]

“Miss Whynn,” Damian said with a nod noting the adorable way she called him Chuck-Chuck. he took a moment to examine her features and commit them to memory. Even if he wasn’t able to arrange for trouble on behalf of this arms dealer there was a chance that this night wouldn’t end in disappointment…. No. That was a Marek thought. Marek was the lecherous casino owner he was Damian… and he owned a fashion company. Okay shut up. Fine Damian liked pretty woman as much as anyone but he was raised right.

“You want to dance?” Damian liked to dance. Kind of. It was a good opportunity to scout out an area. You could twist and turn and change your line of sight to get a view of everything without arousing suspicion. Besides there was an art to drinking without drunk and putting on the act. First rule was to always order new drinks before you were finished with your last. The waitress would take the half consumed beverage away and give you a new one. If you wanted to be patently drunk you could claim to have started drinking earlier putting some liquor on your collar, and spill drinks. Sloppy drunks were the best to pretend to be. But none of that fit Damians current persona. “We can dance,” he said finally to [member="Ash Whynn"] leaving his drink on the bar unattended.

Standing up Damian led this woman to the dance floor and held his hands up for her to begin the dance. “It’s chilly outside. Women's dresses aren’t optimal for cold weather. But I will dance with you wherever you feel most comfortable.” He really did want a good look around the room.

 

[Ash Whynn]

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

Not going outside? Drat. Still, it wasn't like she was out of options, here. As the thudding bass reached a fever pitch, Ash laughed and turned around, putting her back to Chuck and placing his hands around her waist. "Maybe I like the cold...?" She suggested with a teasing smile sent over her shoulder. "Or maybe I just like being kept warm." Even so, you don't leave somebody a choice without being prepared for the chance that they might take the one you don't want.

Bait that hook. Ash was a dab hand at dancing, and put her natural grace to use by writhing and twisting to the beat of the music. Her focus was elsewhere, watching the three men in suits absently patrolling the perimeter of the dance floor to break up fights, noting the occasional bulge or fold indicating a hidden weapon among her fellow dancers. Ash was hardly some sort of super-sleuth or spy - she was a thief and occasional problem-solver, who happened to like keeping her skin in as singular a piece as possible. Even so, something was bothering her. Where were all the cocktail waitresses? A place like this should be loaded with refreshments. And where was Korl? Shouldn't he be roving the party floor with his entourage by now?

Turning her attention back to Chuck, Ash twisted and turned herself against the guy with the curly hair, encouraging him to use his hands a bit more - since she was liable to twist and turn her way wherever, unless he kept a grip on the situation. It was a fun game, in her opinion. As much as she'd been looking around the room, she wanted his eyes on her and her alone. She had no idea she was dancing with somebody she aught to have been concerned about.

 

[Damian Starchaser]

Damian could keep her warm. Or at least that was the first thought to come to mind as she spoke. The dance music started soft and slow and picked up pace as the bodies on the dance floor moved. For Damian [member="Ash Whynn"] was a perfect partner and together they maneuvered around the floor. Damian's eyes darted about picking up various details of the layout, making sure to only focus on his partner when their eyes could meet.

Several men were armed, clearly security, but they didn't worry Damian. The suit and sun-glass brigade were easy enough to spot. It was the guests that needed special attention paid to them. Security dressed and mingling with guests. Normally you could tell, they avoided drinking and kept to themselves or attached them self to a group whereas to not be noticed. All of these things were noticed and picked up on by Damian as they danced.

It was a sultry sort of dance backed up by innuendo. Ash twisting and turning her body against his and forcing his hands to explore her various curves and keep her in place. Yes Damian noticed these things as they danced, but he also noticed his partner. Her movements, her looks and glances, her body... Every movement was designed to tantalize, to draw his sight, or wandering hands to a a specific spot.

The music slowed and stopped and suddenly Damian was left with the woman bound tightly in his arms. "Would you care to retire?" he asked. He himself wanted to get a look at the balcony as much as her. If need be he might need to extract himself that way. "Outside for a more intimate atmosphere." Narrowing eyes and letting his lips break into a shallow smile Damian added, "to get to know each other better."

 

[Ash Whynn]

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

A good dance should put the colour in one's cheeks, a great dance should leave both partners breathless. What they'd enjoyed was a good dance, though that didn't stop Ash from panting softly in Chuck's arms to give the impression that she was left all a-swoon by his mad dancing skills. From the lowliest beggar to the mightiest Sith, Ash hadn't ever met a man who wasn't willing and eager to believe he was the best at impressing a pretty woman with his abilities. "Mm, that depends upon your definition of 'intimate'." Ash giggled breathlessly, enjoying a brief moment of being supported in Chuck's arms before she found her own feet. She took a moment to brush her hair back, deliberately exposing her neck, before putting the barest amount of personal space between them. "If you mean you're going to get us some drinks and tell me all about yourself, I'm game - but you might have to go for the top shelf with your stories, because I'm a tactile learner."

The more it looked like they were all over each other, the easier it would be for casual observers to assume they'd ducked off to some dark corner to do whatever pretty young socalites did - which meant that there wouldn't likely be many concerned busybodies or the like hunting for her once she made her move.

Giggling and playing the party girl, Ash was mostly hands and leaning as Damian took them out onto the balcony to get some fresh air - though they did manage to pass one of the few servers around, and Ash didn't hesitate to snag a glass of a fruity white wine for herself and her new paramour. Once they were out in the brisk, but not unpleasant, night air, Ash plopped down beside Chuck and pulled his arm around her with an exaggerated shiver, batting her eyelashes.

Loads of windows on the second and third floor - many points of ingress. But most of them were likely very, very locked, and she didn't doubt that all of them were alarmed. There was one open window that she could see, though from the size of it, it was likely into a personal bathroom. It'd be a tight squeeze, either way, and there was still no assurance that the vault was up there or in the basement. She'd have to make up her mind, soon. "So, Chuck-Chuck." Ash giggled, having covertly disposed of about half of her wine once they'd sat down - the potted plant beside their seat could bear the brunt of her acting like a drunk. "Where's that nummy accent of yours from, and do all the handsome guys there sound like you?"

Ugh. She wanted to vomit, but an act was an act.

 

[Henry Chinko]

They had done it. They had finally sent a cocktail waitress Hank's way. From across the party, Hank could see her coming. She was a red-haired woman of average height, an above average body, and a below average length dress. She wore diamond earrings and several silver bangles that jingled as she walked. Well, walked was putting it lightly, she sort of bounced and swayed in a highly choreographed means of attracting as much attention while walking through the crowded room.

This was definitely a teenage boy's party.

Steadfast to her job, the woman leaned over the table at which Hank sat, her purple eyes seeming to glow. Well, Hank didn't see them, but they were probably glowing. She opened her mouth to speak, and Hank was already holding up his empty glass.

"One more Corellian Whiskey, please," he said with a genuine smile. He began to lay on that charm he had told himself so much about.

The woman winked and smiled. "No, sweetheart, I'm not a waitress," she giggled. Not-waitress took Hank by both hands and lifted him up. Our favorite middle-aged author had not complaints, but he was confused. ​"Korl told me to take you up to his daddy's office. He wants to be able to talk to you in person without the distractions."

She turned around and pulled Hank to her, leading him through the throng of dancing young people with her bottom pressed against him. This was all some sort of strange teenage nightmare (or fantasy? Hank didn't know. Young people were weird), but Hank was rolling with it. He was not looking forward to being alone and enduring whatever conversation was coming, but he was trying not to be ungrateful.

After all, there were free alcohol and pretty young women here.

This brat sure knows how to roll out the welcome wagon.

[member="Ash Whynn"] | [member="Damian Starchaser"]

 

[Damian Starchaser]

Damian was nothing if not polite and when he felt the woman shiver and put his arms around her he took his jacket off and placed it around her. It was the least he could do. Besides there was something off. Call it intuition, the force, or just dealing with… nummy accent? Okay that threw him for a loop. "Corelian originally," he said answering [member="Ash Whynn"]'s question. Damn why did he do that? "But I've lived all over and I'm told I maintain a light coruscanti accent." an eyebrow quirked. Even dumber. He shouldn't, no wasn't, falling for this dumb blonde routine. "As for the rest of the handsome men having it, I doubt it." A sweet smile crossed his face.

“So what do you do for a living Miss Whynn?” His eyes darted away from hers, avoiding direct contact. Uhg. Total schoolboy move. It was more than that though. He needed to get rid of the distraction for a moment and think. He knew nothing about this woman and yet she was acting rather intimately towards him. Which, there was nothing completely abnormal about that but given Damians track record this put him on the defensive. "A bit of a smuggler myself," he said with a cocksure grin. What did he know about her. She had a great body. Definitely a great body. “I’d peg you for something athletic. A sportswoman perhaps?” But that didn’t fit. She didn’t seem comfortable with money and while female sports weren’t as popular as male sports the endorsements someone as pretty as her could get would be substantial. Everyone liked pretty girls. “Collegiate?” Something about the way she moved reminded him of something….

[member="Henry Chinko"]

 

[Ash Whynn]

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

Ash favored him with a fetching and mischevious grin. "Oooh, a smuggler! How dangerous." She felt less intelligent for acting charmed by the statement, but that was how things worked. Pulling the coat she'd been given around her shoulders, Ash reflexively checked the pockets of it in the sort of subtle manner expected of a thief, shifting on the bench to get more comfortable. "I'm actually a fashion model." She explained, allowing herself a slightly sheepish smirk. "Although I do do some sports modelling, too - you know. Putting on a uniform, posing for magazines or whatever." 'Uniform' was a fairly generous term for most of them, sure, but it wasn't like that was some Galaxy-shaking revelation. "Mostly, though, I just like being in good shape. Not nearly as interesting as smuggling, though..."

Her champagne was basically gone. Good, okay. Time to get to work. Ash leaned up and pressed her lips to Chuck's cheek briefly, pulling the arm that he'd left around her momentarily tighter to her waist. With her face inches from his and her lipstick on his cheek, she 'drunkenly' giggled. "I.... think I've had a bit too much." She murmured playfully, her hand on Chuck's leg. As if suddenly realizing it was there, Ash sat up a bit straighter and removed it, straightening her dress. Giving the man a slightly pouty, flirty expression, she asked "Do you think you could go get me a glass of water, please? I don't trust my heels right now."

 

[Damian Starchaser]

Something was fishy and the hairs on the back of Damians neck stood up. [member="Ash Whynn"] moved to kiss the young man brushing lips against the side of his cheek leaving a bit of red lipstick smear behind. Her hand explored his leg and his heart raced in response and yet it didn’t fully cancel out his higher brain functions. Damian was an intelligent young man and things didn’t seem to add up. He’d seen her consume maybe two drinks and did some quick calculations in his head. With her body weight this sudden drunkenness did not make sense. He himself had seen them leaving the bar before he could have finished their first drink and then a simple glass of champagne and suddenly she was dizzy and giggling.

“Alright,” he said as she draped her body on his. He let his hand move up to her face and cupped her chin. If she wanted to play games, he could play games. Staring directly into her eyes and smiling he leaned down and gave her a sweet and innocent peck on the cheek letting his face linger in front of hers for a moment. “I can get you some water. Perhaps some caff to help sober you up?”

 

[Ash Whynn]

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

He was pretty handsome, even up close. No ugly blocked pores, and nice, bright clear eyes. Ash would be lying if she didn't admit to a little heart flutter, but she was a grown woman - and a professional at work. There was plenty of time for this sort of thing later, but right now, she had a job to do. A rather difficult one, that had a high chance of getting her very much killed. The fashion model wet her lips and gave the handsome Mr. Finley a grateful smile coupled with a slightly nervous giggle, since he'd jumped all up in her steez with basically no warning. Well, a little warning. And it wasn't like she'd not been all over him. "Thanks, Chuck-Chuck. You're the best." Ash offered softly, stroking her companion's arm before sending him off with a slightly dizzy smile.

Once he'd gone back inside, Ash sighed softly and slipped her strappy heels off, and fiddled with the strappy parts as she took a look around for witnesses - and to see if Mr. Finley would pop back to 'check' on her for some reason. Since she'd opted for water instead of caff, she'd have to be quick; it was much easier to find a cup of water than to have somebody brew caff in the middle of a party. A stupid mistake on her part, but Ash was doing this part by the seat of her dress - most of her planning involved getting in and out of the building. She'd known that she'd have to play it by ear once she'd gotten in.

In a slinky dress and high heels, without so much as a clutch, Ash hadn't much space to hide things she might need. Like tools. But she had come prepared. It just so happened that the insole of her heels made for a rather solid grip, and that the heels themselves - reinforced as they were - made for pretty decent climbing hooks. Sure, the shoe was fairly heavy comparatively, but they'd been worth every penny when she'd had them custom-made for just this occasion. After one final glance to make sure she wasn't being watched, Ash tied Chuck's jacket around her waist, hitched her dress up around her waist and stepped back, then ran at the wall as fast as she could.

Vaulting off of the bench, Ash threw herself up as far as she could and hooked her heels onto a feature of the building's exterior that stuck out. The muscles in her arms and shoulders tensing, Ash grimaced and pulled herself up like the experienced athlete she was, scaling the side of the Bleflesog manor with all the speed she could muster. This was the stress point, this was where everything could go sour, so she had to hurry. Once she reached the comparatively small bathroom window, Ash squeezed herself through with no small amount of effort, trusting in the fact that few people would bother to look up, and if they were looking for her, were more likely to search the bushes and hedges around the balcony.

And just like that, she was in - panting quietly in the most opulent bathroom she'd ever seen. Ash silently closed the window behind herself, catching her breath.




Meanwhile, in the kitchen, the missing service staff were gathered - passing around duffel bags and grumbling to each other in an obscure dialect of Huttese. Cocktail waitresses were trading out bows and skimpy outfits for body armor and berets, waiters were passing around grenades and blaster rifles instead of trays and hors d'oeuvres. They were organized, they were militant, and from the looks of things, they were not thieves. While the guests danced and climbed and made conversation and wondered what a guy had to do to get a drink around here, a cadre of revolutionaries had come to pay the Bleflesog family back for supplying their oppressors

And any minute, they would make their move.

(([member="Henry Chinko"], I hope you don't mind if I hijack your complaint about no waitresses for a bit of an NPC threat to us? ))

 

[Henry Chinko]

([member="Ash Whynn"], works for me!)

It was a quick step past the guards into a foyer that housed a massive spiral staircase. The walls were adorned with marble and oll-paintings of Twi'leks. Not the kind of pictures of Twi'leks that Hank was used to, but I guess that's the difference between old and new money. They turned off on the third floor, bound for Korl's father's office.

Not-waitress led Hank through the most elaborate maze of sumptuous rooms that the author had ever seen. Hank had had money for all of his adult life, thanks to his success in his field, but this just seemed stupid to him. As they passed parlors (​Who needs more than one parlor? Who has that many friends?) and galleries (Actually, that's pretty genius. One less reason to leave the house) Hank wondered how in the galaxy people lived in this way.

"Does this place have a bowling alley?" Hank asked the young woman, who had grown strangely silent since taking Hank from the main floor. Hank wasn't complaining, because she still caressed him with her body as they walked, but the dead silence in this empty, echoing mansion was giving him the creeps.

She turned over her shoulder and simply smiled, but continued to walk. Apparently there was something of a rush to getting Hank into Korl's presence. Still, this whole situation seemed strange. Not because there was anything suspicious or threatening about this woman, but because they way he behaved gave Hank the impression that Korl was one intolerably messed-up little man.

Hank was happy for a moment that he never had kids.

Then, he was sad for a moment that he never had a family.

Finally, the duo reached a large wooden door, finished with red tint. Hank's escort rapped on the door in a strange pattern, some sort of signal, Hank guessed. Then, a laser shone down from above the door's entrance, scanning both the woman and Hank. After a moment of processing, the security system gave a low beep, and the heavy sound of the lock unlatching echoed through the hall. The young woman placed her hand on the small of Hank's back and led him into the office.

Sure enough, Korl was there. He was young, but tall and in good shape, his muscular frame a positive side effect of too much free time. He stood immediately, shaking the two women who were sitting on his lap without so much as a moment's regard. He boomed in a high-pitched voice, speaking Basic, "Henry Chinko, in the flesh!" The Twi'lek approached and embraced Hank with an eagerness. "Coruscant Underwater wrecked me, man. Totally wrecked me."

There were multiple responses to this:

What the kark does that even mean? Have you read anything else? Are you on stims right now? Where are all the waitresses? Who are these girls? DOES THIS HOUSE HAVE A BOWLING ALLEY??

In the end, Hank left it at, "Me too."

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

 

[Damian Starchaser]

It was a shame the young woman didn't kiss him back. At least if she was a working girl she'd have lingered a bit longer. Suddenly Damians suspicions were coming to a head. Flirty, toned body, but reserved. Not trying to snag a rich one, not one of the dim socialites, although she tried to act the part. No if that were the case she wouldn't want to be left alone, would make the best impression possible and optimize time with her desired mark. Damian let the wheels turn as he walked back into the manor, expecting [member="Ash Whynn"] not be there when he returned.

The sad truth was that, in a hurry, a good free climber could probably get up the side of a building and into a window a story or two above them in about the same amount of time it took Damian to get a glass of water. He had to calmly walk into a house, across a ballroom, up to a bar, and then back. There were no waitresses, not anymore which in and of itself was suspicious. Already there was a tingle at the back of Damians neck and he knew something would be wrong. He retried a glass of water for the later and downed one himself. If what he thought was about to happen did indeed happen he'd need to be well hydrated.

"God I hate chases," he said in a mutter to himself. Last one had been through a swamp. If given the opportunity he'd never visit a swamp again. Reaching the door and exiting the manor again he noticed, unsurprised, that his date wasn't there. The second glass of water he drank and left on a nearby plotted plant before taking a few steps away from the building to look up. Window on a balcony open. Alright he could work with this.

Damian walked back inside and meandered around the dance floor and over toward the stairs. Guards were rotating around the room and two were at the staircase. There was a bar nearby and Damian walked up to it he picked up a drink off a nearby table without breaking stride and with a smile, pretending to be drunk, spilled his drink all over the hapless man. "Oh I'm terribly sorry." With his hands he started pushing at the man sloshing more of the liquid onto him. "You should go get cleaned up. You're to be presentable at all times aren't you?"

That did the trick. The man went scampering off to get cleaned up leaving Damian at an unattended bar station. Party goers were busy mingling, and dancing the night away. For too occupied to see the young man ducked beneath the bar fiddling with an electronic drink shaker. With an electrical current sparking and a bit of strong alcoholic beverages he had the perfect distraction. A negligent bartender spilled on an electronic device which sparked and set a fire.

Damian moved back to the stairs looking at his chronometer.This shouldn't be taking this long. A few seconds..... and then just as the thought came a small fire burst up. The two guards at the door immediately diverted their attention, one of them running over to see what was happening as the other stayed by his door, and yet not near enough. Damian moved with purpose slinking about in the shadows like a dentist with ether.

In a few movements he was up the stairs and looking down at the chaos caused. Many guards were now gathered trying to determine what happened and a fire suppressant unit was used to quell the small blaze. Damians heart skipped a beat. He loved to blow things up. What a horrible Jedi he was.

Once upstairs he put his hands in his pocket and started to walk down the hallway looking around and pretending he was lost. If he was caught Damian found it was often a good strategy to play dumb. People were far too forgiving of a confused young man. Damian had the tour a day or two earlier when first meeting Korl and made an educated guess at where the woman would be heading.

Damian started towards the trophy room, a room in which he saw the most exquisite gemstone. Yes Damian was intrigued by this woman.

[member="Henry Chinko"]

 

[Ash Whynn]

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

Finally, a break of luck. Ash slunk out of the bathroom into a bedroom that looked the envy of every fifteen year old boy in the Galaxy - game systems, posters of scantily-clad women, memorabilia. Korl Bleflesog fashioned himself something of a player, but how any woman could set foot in this shrine to manchildness and even pretend to be aroused was beyond her. Even she wasn't that good of an actress. Still, it was a break of good luck nevertheless. Ash took a moment to gauge the slightly heavier jacket that she'd obtained from Chuck, then produced a small knife from somewhere under her dress. A couple cuts into the liner revealed secrets and confirmed suspicions - the suit jacket had some sort of protective layer of silk. A nice find, if slightly more expensive than she'd expect someone who did 'a bit of smuggling' to own. Slightly curious, but not enough to distract her.

After she'd examined the coat, Ash made herself comfortable. Popping a strip of gum into her mouth - she always kept a little pack on her person - she circled the room looking for... something useful. Korl's work space revealed a couple things; a notebook filled with bad handwritten fiction, and some office supplies. In the drawers of his desk, a healthy collection of recreational drugs, and what she could only describe as a trophy stash; underthings, makeup, and other such momentos no doubt left behind by his conquests. A plan began to form.

While she'd been planning on using somebody's actual fingers for the exterior vault's fingerprint scanner, the longer she could go without incapacitating anyone, the better. She needed to find something only Korl would touch, and in a very predictable, consistent manner - but not often. He was liable to share his pipes with his girlfriend and buddies, he had his hands on his notebook often from the wear of the pages...

Perfect! In his bedside table were two copies of Coruscant Underwater by [member="Henry Chinko"], one very well worn and the other a barely-used first-edition hardback. They appeared to be the only non-magazine reading material he owned. Not something he was liable to touch often, or pass around. With a smirk, Ash dusted the hardback novel with some baby powder she'd found with the makeup, using a foundation brush from the same drawer. Once she found a respectable-looking fingerprint, she lifted it off with some tape from the office supplies for later use.

Ash put Chuck's protective jacket back on and slipped Korl's notebook into the inside pocket to hide the bulge of her knife, carefully cradled the fingerprint in one hand, and waited at the bedroom door until she heard a guard pass. Luckily, she knew exactly where in this sprawling estate she was going, and that the exterior vault door looked like a regular door - albeit with a fingerprint scanner. Bleflesog liked to show off his legally-obtained treasures, the good stuff was in the interior vault. Once she reached the door, Ash took her gum out, pressed it to the back of the tape to simulate warm flesh, and pressed the front to the fingerprint scanner. A moment later, a soft beep and a click, the latch was open. Score, now for the hard part.

Ash slipped into the exterior vault/trophy room through the thick, disguised metal door, tearing a few pages out of Korl's notebook while she evaluated the laser defense grid. She folded the pages up quickly, slipped them into the latches where the vault door's bolts would normally close, then slid the door shut. The bolts clicked as though the door was locked, but were unable to enter the latches - the door could simply be pushed or pulled open by anyone.

Did you know that paper folded seven or eight times can support a ton of weight?

 

[Damian Starchaser]

It only took a few minutes for Damian to reach the trophy room. He arrived just in time to see the woman opening the vault. Nice trick with the gum and finger print. Then she entered inside. The minute he saw her he bounced around the corner and remained out of sight until he heard the vault door close. Quirking an eyebrow he looked into the room. Whelp that was convenient. Damian sauntered into the trophy room and started to look around. It was an impressive collection and that a snot nosed teen brat wasn't rushing him through he could enjoy the collection. A few good pieces of art and even some rather nice artifacts including some from the ancient killik.from the castle lands. Of course the thing that interested him the most was the vault door.

If he hadn't known it was there, if the paper hadn't blocked it from closing all the way and accentuating its profile with a slight angle, he might have missed it. This woman was good. An intriguing combination of trade craft. He took his hands out of his pocket as he approached the door. She could climb walls like a second story man, had played him like a seasoned con artist, and managed to break into this vault like a good cracker. Yes he was impressed.

"[member="Ash Whynn"]?" He said knocking on the door. "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like my jacket back...."


[member="Henry Chinko"]

 

[Ash Whynn]

[member="Damian Starchaser"]

Hello, bad penny. Ash didn't bother with the socialite act, mainly because she didn't intend to let Chuck-Chuck out of this vault with the ability to spoil her cover. "Chuck Finley. No respect for a lady's personal business?" She asked with a flippant tone, a hand on her hip, keeping his jacket on her shoulders. No need to hurry, they were inside the vault - she had options. She walked a small bit towards the inner vault door, slowly removing his jacket, making a grand show of strutting and keeping her eyes focused on him, not unlike a jungle cat sizing up a rival predator in her territory. "...although, I doubt that's your name." Ash added with a smug and almost condescending smirk, carefully folding his jacket and laying it over her arm.

"I planned on mailing it back to you, you know. 'Care of: Chuck Finley, 12 Bit'o Smuggling Lane'." Ash explained, the corner of her eyes wrinkling in amusement. "But I think we both know Chuck Finley isn't real. Why don't you tell me who you really are, so I can ship this to you when I'm done with it, and I'll even let you walk away from this room to sweeten the deal."