Persephone Dashiell
It's Called Fashion Sweetie
Myra and Makky had put a challenge to her ; work hard and don't give her Governess any trouble and they would reward her with a trip to Coruscant Fashion Week.
It was hard to keep her quips to herself. To not give some jaunty observations to the old woman. To focus on speech patterns becoming a High Core Heiress. Yet she did it ; as Myra pointed out, ain't no High Core Heiress cursing and slingin' curse words like a Hapan Pirate.
Persie wanted to slip into that world. Live the high flying life. Have splashy holo-shoots all over her social media, luxurious weekend getaways 'just for fun'. The type of activities she saw with various other high society and wealthy types she had encountered since coming into the care of her distant relatives.
The hard work paid off, she was on Coruscant in a penthouse suite booked by her 'big brother', right in the heart of all the action. Tickets had been obtained to the Ralf Loren fashion show. Makky had somehow been able to pull some strings.
Now, the tickets were for a back row but that was not an issue. One, Persie would influence herself up to the front in just a few short years. Two, she was finally here. Just a year ago she wouldn't have believed it. Her. At a fashion show with real celebrities and models.
There was one hiccup in her plan ;

Makky had hired his friend to be her bodyguard for the weekend. Myra was busy. Makky was busy. Danger and Rue were busy. This left her guardians to outsource the dirty work, landing on Makky's trusted friend. Even then, the half-Galan had some stern words for the man, warnings about kidnappings and getting in trouble with criminals.
Stepping out of her room and into the living space of the suite, Persie had on quite the fashionable outfit for the evening.
Then she looked at her bodyguard. Face crinkled into a sour look, as if completely disgusted.
"Do yous even own a brush?"