A few stools down from
Valery Noble
, Ivory Stroud sat carrying on an animated conversation with one of the bartenders. Before her, atop the counter, lay the discarded remains of her libations: three empty shot-glasses, two empty bottles of beer, and a lovely ornate cigarra-case of metallic silver. Clutched between two fingers was a burning stub, smoke curling from it in serpentine patterns as she gestured with a musical laugh.
"-idn't have to tell me! If I'd been there to see it, I'd have shot him too!"
The bartender, a bald-headed human with a graying goatee and a ready smile, shared in the mirth of the moment.
Ivory grinned, noticing her fingers were centimeters from being burned by the dwindling cigarra and stubbing it out in an ashtray. The tiny enferno
hissed a dying scream which went all-but unheard over the buzz of conversation & ambient noise in the bar.
She was dressed, as she often was on Denon, like most other rebellious adults; with her own sense of style & taste. Anyone looking in her direction would never guess she was a criminal mastermind in her own right, with soldiers & credits enough to wage wholesale war if she chose... Instead, she was content to hide in plain sight. Long black hair ran down the length of her back, and one side of her skull had been shaved; a unique & distinguishing hairstyle. Black leather pants hugged her thighs, and her feet were protected by black combat boots; the toes of which were capped by metallic plates on the exterior. A purple tank-top barely concealed the plethora of tattoos visible on her chest & arms; each unique, though some appeared more professionally done than others. A discerning eye might recognize a few as having been applied by a rougher hand uncaring as-to the comfort of the receiver... Some, clearly prison tattoos, while others were works of art. Beside her on an empty stool, a lovely fur coat in white & grey patchwork lay occupying the space - as-if she were reserving the seat for an expected visitor.
Which she was not.
The Donna of The Family was in her element. Far from the elegant dresses & fine jewelry of an Underworld Queen, Ivory "The Rebel" enjoyed her time on Denon immensely. It was an opportunity to engage with the locals, to return to her roots, to embrace the sights & sounds of city-life without having to maintain an image of self-control. On Denon, she could be vibrant. She could be crazy. She could take risks. This place was quickly becoming a home away from home.
As the moment of humor died, Ivory directed her beautiful violet eyes toward the bartender & fluttered her eyelashes - a subtle flirtation.
"One more." She said, perfect teeth flashing in a grin. The bartender returned it.
"Same thing?" He asked as he reached behind him.
"Yep."
As he retrieved a fresh beer & another shot of her favorite bourbon, the professional criminal took a moment to glance around - paying attention to faces, positions, and dispositions of everyone seated at the bar & elsewhere in the room. It was a subtle motion, but one she'd developed throughout an extremely successful career. In her momentary scan, she recognized a few things she'd missed becoming involved in her story.
The first, was the woman a few feet away in a brown leather coat and nursing a drink. Ivory's instant impression was that the woman was keeping her head a little lower than expected... as-if she were avoiding glancing around the bar.
Strange.
The second, was an immense Suarton moving through the crowd of patrons. The lizard was hard to miss; covered in scars and exuding a palpable sensation of violence. A small memory tickled the back of Ivory's mind... Her involvement with the Hutt Space Consortium had provided a number of advantages; among them, she'd been given the opportunity to interface with the Galaxy's worst-of-the-worst. The Hutts were infamous for employing beastial bounty hunters among their enforcers, and though she didn't immediately recognize the creature, she was familiar enough to recognize his ilk.
Thankfully, she reasoned, it was unlikely he would recognize her in-turn. The Donna didn't need to show her face for her power to be felt.
As the bartender returned with her drinks, Ivory nodded in the direction of the woman a few stools away.
"What's her story?" She asked, using her recent familiarity to probe the man's knowledge of his regulars.
The bartender shrugged.
"Never seen her." He replied.
"Looks like she needs a friend."
The bartender smirked, quipping before he turned to another patron:
"Don't we all."
Ivory hummed as she brought the shot glass to her lips.
Indeed.
Ivory stretched out through The Force, simply picking up on the ambient energy in the room before directing the tiniest tendril of thought in the woman's direction... Caressing the woman's presence, while keeping her own influence barely perceptible.
Concern. A desire for safety. Echoes of pain.
These emotions were no stranger to Ivory Stroud.
Karkosuchus
Valery Noble
