Private Exhibitionism

[Mauve du Vain]

The Zeltron listened intently, violet eyes on the older woman. The mock caff order coaxed a peal of silvery laughter from her lips. Yes. That was certainly how some politicians sounded.

Mauve's eyes drifted away when Cressida came to the end of her story, roving toward a central console. She pressed a button on top and was delighted as it slid open to reveal a series of bottles. Mauve raised a questioning eyebrow at Cressida, knowing that this broke all the usual political decorum, but was the point of all the money and power if they could not let their hair down every once in a while?

"It sounds like they picked the right woman for the job."

Magenta fingers slipped around the neck of a bottle and drew it out. "If you don't mind..." She gripped the cork and tugged. A loud pop and vapor issued from the bottle's open mouth. "To your art acquisition. And new acquaintances." She raised the bottle up and tilted back her head, toasting the woman with her own alcohol, and taking a long sip. A sliver of violet watched the woman through the corner of hooded purple lashes.

Mauve found the use of pheromones such a banal application of physiology. It seemed unfair, like a big game hunter acquiring a low flying speeder and shooting at quarry from altitude. She made no move to influence the woman with them, though she could not help the subtle hint of jasmine that lingered in the air around her like perfume.

The Zeltron handed the bottle to Cressida, urging her to drink.

"For what it's worth, I happen to admire the aggressive approach. Sharp edges and all."

Cressida Tolliver

 

[Cressida Tolliver]

Cressida turned her attention from the window and back to Mauve, her eyebrows lifting almost imperceptibly when she saw that the Zeltros had drawn out a bottle of of something strong. She closed her eyes and shrugged with her whole torso as if to say -- smoke 'em if you got 'em. "Why not? It's not a school night." She took the bottle from magenta fingers lifted it almost like it was a flute of Chandrilan champagne. "New acquaintances," she said and lifted the bottle to her lips, taking a slow sip of her own.

Cheeky little thing, she thought. Impossible not to be charmed by her. That doesn't mean she's not dangerous. It probably means the opposite.

Still, Cressida was still within the watchful eye of her plainclothesman and driver. If Mauve meant her harm, she would probably not get away with it. At the club was a slightly different story, but -- well, why not live a little? She took another drink and handed the bottle back. "Not half bad, that," she nodded at the bottle.

"Never go into politics, Mauve," said Cressida frankly at her new acquaintance. "Ironically, the direct approach might work best, but everyone is too busy sniffing around the edges to see what they can get that it hardly ever does." She tugged her cloak closer around her. She looked as if she might say more, but the speeder had slowed and then stopped at a high-floor landing pad. The driver moved to Mauve's side, closest to the pad, and opened the door, offering a hand out. Cressida followed.

"If there's a fat Devaronian with a broken horn at the sabacc table, do not play with him," Cressida told Mauve as they approached the VIP entrance. "He cheats and he's not very good at it, and he throws a fit when he loses. Ruins the fun of it all."

Mauve du Vain​