How'd You Like Your Gift?

[Alric Kuhn]

“Madman?” Alric said blinking in surprise, as if he had not expected the title. “Who? Clearly they haven't ever met me. I'm as sane as can be.”

He spoke almost absently, as if they weren't actually engaged in conversation but instead light pillow talk. Like a lover walking to the bathroom to clear the sweat from their body. His wanderings took him over to the concessions table where he inelegantly picked up small bits of food with his fingers and placed them in his mouth, chewing thoroughly each time before selecting another.

“As for the tongue wagging, well, I suppose that has some sort of credence.” He glossed over the comment about Mr. Lee, but only because he thought of it as unimportant.

He knew that ATC and Blas-Tech had once been business partners in the form of the Tion Hegemony, but he doubted the relationship went any farther than that. He reminded himself to have Xo look into that, perhaps she could do a little digging.

“What am I?” He answered as he placed a small bit of seared Bantha steak in his mouth. “That's an odd question, Danger.”

He very pointedly used her first name, again sticking to the stratagem of having no manners to speak of. “Not generally something that strangers ask each other is it?”

 

[Danger Arceneau]

If his audacity at using her first name struck a cord, she did not show it. No that faint lightly amused smile would linger over those crimson lips, as if his ongoing antics only amused her. There was a glimmer in the depths of her emerald eyes, a keen interest that would seemingly appraise the man before her.

"Ask? Perhaps not. But it still begs the question. I am simply speaking aloud what they are already thinking." she'd retort, then came her light toast, "After all, you've been busier than a one armed monkey-lizard with two peckers." southernisms, tried and true reminder of just from where Miz Danger came from. Oh there it was, the subtle devilry that shone in her eyes.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He stopped eating for the time being, wiping his fingers on the table cloth before looking towards Danger. His eyebrow raised slightly at her expression, he grinned slightly, it was an interesting saying to be sure. He simply smiled softly, shaking his head slightly and speaking in a tone of confidence. “I can guarantee that that monkey-lizard was far busier than I. He has to work for his satisfaction.”

To tell the truth, taking over Blas-Tech hadn't been all that difficult. Sure there had been bribery, extortion, and half a dozen other illegal things, but it hadn't been hard. Relatively speaking it had been very simple, with Cade Lee gone the board had practically been begging someone to take his place.

“To tell you the truth, Danger, Blas-Tech had been crumbling without Mr. Lee.” He enunciated the name carefully giving it a bit extra. “I'm surprised none of your associates did as I did much sooner.”

He was actually telling the truth. Any one of the companies within the Tion Hegemony could have taken Blas-Tech much faster, and much more easily than he had.

Lots of money in weapons.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

At that, she would give a throaty chuckle. Full hips and that mesmerizing sway of full curves would draw closer to him, the woman ambling slowly in her confidant sashay. A brow would perk, and it was clear she was amused.

"There's a saying Mistah Kuhn," oh ever so cordial, even when Alric was pressing the lines of propriety. "One my daddy done told me" she would come to a halt before him, the spicy heady scent of her perfume a heady aroma concocted to stir the senses. It was much like Essence of Zeltros in effect, enhancing her appeal.

"You don't poodoo where you eat," the curse word would sound shockingly provocative coming from the business woman. "And one don't burn bridges. In my line of work, networking along with a reputation, is all a girl has."

 

[Alric Kuhn]

The perfume was nice, but next to the tantalizing scent of Xo it might as well have been Bantha dung. To Alric it was simply a new aroma in the air. He looked at her with that amusement though, apparently she was devoted to her play, to her face. He had known that, but how far could he take things? With a slight smile he stepped closer to Danger, continuing the approach that she had started.

“Was that it?” He said with amusement ringing in his voice. “I had chalked it up to incompetence.”

There was no hint of a joke in his tone.

“I do suppose your explanation works though. I also suppose that explains why I'm here. Shame, I thought for sure it had been the dress.” He shrugged slightly, then grasped the drink from the table. He downed what was in the glass, then placed the cup back from where he had snatched it.

There was a slight hint of something on his face, but what it was was difficult to tell.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

An edge would glitter in her green eyes, but her cordial smile would linger. He was pressing her buttons, but she would not show it. No, she did't get this far to be brought low by some piss poor would be upstart from the wrong side of Empress Teta.

Again the lifted shoulder. The coy, sidelong glance. "Such tact. It becomes you, Mistah Kuhn." she would say, the hint of amusement at his antics still seemingly lingering in her voice.

"Care for another?" she would ask, reaching over to take his glass for a potential refill. "Oh? What is it that you suppose then?" she would ask, curious, her voice as pleasant as if having afternoon tea. Honeyed sweet and with that delicate drawl.

She wouldn't wait for his answer, instead she would hold the empty glass in hand and wander back to the bar, full hips swaying as she would slowly amble to it.

So it was a game. A game to see who would break first. He was testing her. It was either that or the man was a greater fool than she thought.

Yet there was a greater prize in the horizon as long as she kept her mind focused. BlasTech.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He smiled slightly.

It was a goofy wide grin, a grin that didn't belong on his face, a grin that didn't belong on any sober mans face. The way she walked, the way she swayed and moved about, it seemed to him that the world became dizzy, that it shook and rotated with the swing of her hips. He watched them, he watched her.

"I suppose many things, Danger." Lightly his head began to swim, and that goofy grin remained in place. “But then again, what I suppose doesn't really matter does it? You already think you'll get what you want.”

He said with with a shrug of his shoulders.

Alric turned away from her, from the bar, and instead began to wander towards the window where she had been standing. His movements were oddly similar to hers, though instead of the sway of hips, it was the sway of his body. He walked like flicked jello, smoothly, but with an odd sort of delight until he stood in front of the window.

He caught his reflection in the glass.

That goofy grin.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Her throaty chuckle would echo across the room. "Is that so, Mistah Kuhn?" she'd ask, her back towards him as she would set down the glass in front of her. There came the slight snap shut sound of a case, a glint of silver showing just before she would put up a cigarra between her lips. She'd set the case down next to the glass, but not before she'd take one tiny clear gel tab by slight of hand, snapping the case shut.

Her hand would reach for the Corellian whiskey, pouring another three fingers worth. The motion would be quick, dropping the quick dissolving tab in the liquor. Tasteless, odorless, and colorless, the perfect weapon for a woman who was having trouble with a would be guest. Even now, a twist of her wrist would swirl the glass much like she had done her earlier, the remnants dissolving away. The Elixir would maintain its potency when mixed with food or drink, making it difficult to detect. Upon downing the elixir, odds were that Kuhn would become infatuated with the first creature he or she saw, regardless of species or gender. Though it could be resisted, it was even more potent when the source was of an acceptable species or gender for the drinker. The effects lasted between two to five hours, the affected regarding the source of the infatuation as a friend and confidante, even a possible love interest.

"And just what is that?" she'd ask over her shoulder, voice half mumbled due to the ciagra she held at the corner of her mouth. Her other hand would reach for a small lighter, turning back to face him. He was standing by the window, admiring his ridiculous goofy expression. Danger gave a mental roll of her eyes.

Coming to stand beside him, she would present him with the glass. "Don't you know that a woman's mind is a mystery yet to be unlocked?" she'd say coyly, and once he would take his glass she would make the move to light her cigarillo.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He didn't take the glass, he didn't even look at it.

Instead his gaze had shifted, his eyes moving to watch the expo instead of the grin that was still staring back at him. Everything seemed to move slower, or faster, it was difficult to tell which. Hundreds of people lumbered about, dozens shifting and rambling their way past each other in an effort to find the best deals, the newest technologies, the greatest and most powerful weapons.

So interesting.

Did they know about the game? Did they play it?

No.

That was for him, for her, for them.

Suddenly his eyes shot up away from the expo and towards her, gaze shifting with the slightest turn of his head. She was undeniably beautiful, extravagantly and luxuriously gorgeous. She had the type of beauty that could only be attained through a mix of nature and nurture. Rare as that was. Yet there was something about her, the air of her, the attitude, the way she carried herself.

Alric didn't like it.

It wasn't that she was a woman of power, he didn't mind those, it was something else, something that grated him, something that he couldn't quite but his finger on. Thoughts swirled, his focusing on the reflection of her in the mirror. Suddenly his hand reached out as if the grab the drink, then instead moved up and took the cigarra from her mouth.

“I have a company in my ownership that makes these.” He waggled it at her then placed the thing in between his own lips. “Dangerous. Cause diseases you know.”

He turned away from the glass with that same silly walk as before, moving to the center of the room away from Danger. The sound of a spark could be heard, and a wisp of smoke raised as Alric turned back towards Danger. “As my fathers bard once taught me, not all mysteries are equal.”

A puff of smoke left his lips.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

The little bag of womprat poodoo!

The mental curse would prompt a slight grind of her teeth as he would walk away from her, with her cigarillo none the less. A finger would tap at the edge of the glass, a subtle note of impatience that would stop as soon as it started.

"Guess it depends if the juice is worth the squeeze, Mistah Kuhn," she'd say, moving over towards him. She would set his glass upon the table beside him. Purposeful steps would march her right up to the dark haired man, her head tipping back as that fiery hair would glint under the overhead light.

A hand would rise, and in that she would reclaim her cigarillo back. "However, what's mine is mine." she'd say, an edge of warning in her tone that would be coated in sugary sweetness.

She'd take a deep drag, appraising him as her eyes would travel from his lightly dusted boots over his casual attire and finally to the dark mop of brown hair at the top of his head. The mirrored sunglasses a shield over his eyes.

A crook of a brow and she'd continue, starting to walk away from him. "Mystery or not, you have caused ripples in the lake, Mistah Kuhn. " the stream of smoke would fall from her lips, moving towards the black leather c shaped couch. There she would drape herself and sit, the vice held between two fingers.

"And you ain't as green as goblin moss to not realize that."

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He let out the last wisp of smoke that had been held within him, smiling slightly at the cues and pangs of her voice.

That slight break, that crack, that sound of impatience or perhaps even a touch of anger. It pushed him on, it pushed him forward. He was by no mean winning, there was no winning or losing yet, there was only progress. Another piece moved on the Dejarik board, another path laid out in front of him, another angle of the road that had no signs, only the ones that she gave him.

His gaze followed her, eyes moving towards the C shaped couch where she sat herself down.

He didn't move, but swayed slightly, his body moving as though a gust of wind had struck him, lightly moving from side to side as his thoughts shifted.

“I'm well aware.” His voice was grated, as if he was beginning to get annoyed with the riddles they were speaking in.

His mind began to race again, pushing from one topic to the next. He watched the slight puckering of her lips, the blinks of her eyes, the fluttering of her hair as she shook her head, the smooth subtle motions of her body. He tried to catch everything she did, read her, watch her for a sign of something. Alric didn't breath, his thoughts moving too fast to remind himself to do what was supposed to come naturally.

“Tough it works out in the end for you doesn't it, Danger?” His voice was that of a man talking to a child who wasn't being forthright with something obvious.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Her cheeks would sink in as she took a deep drag. The smoke would fill her lungs, the nicotine absorbing into her system with a slight tingly buzz enhanced by the whiskey she had imbibed.

Again, the lift of her shoulder. "It depends on by what end you speak of, Mistah Kuhn." her voice would drip honey; thick and syrupy with cordial sweetness.

"In my line of work, anything could happen." she murmured, blowing a stream of spicy white smoke up to the ceiling, where the air conditioning vent would suck it right up. Her lids would lower to half mast, drawing her attention over to a small control panel beside her on the armrest. A tick tap of holographic keys would soon apply the mirrored coat of the glassteel windows, shrouding them in the room in its one way view. Very private. Very intimate.

"Business is business." she told him, as if simply explaining to a child.

"There is a time and a place for everything. Just like Dejarik -- " the vice would draw anew to her lips, where she would say in a low hush before taking another draw, "Strategy requires thought, tactics require observation"

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric looked down at her, the distaste in his mouth grew, but in his head he knew what she was doing. It was all a tactic, though he was getting closer to the core. The act that she had so smoothly put on, that of a hostess, of a woman of kindness and eternal brightness was slowly fading away. The words she spoke were more pointed, harsher, the pressing of reality instead of false flattery and kindness.

He liked it.

Alric took a few steps forward, careful practiced motions that should have been easy. Instead he found himself needing to stop all thought in order to reach her, his mind only beginning once again when he stood directly in front of her, within the small alcove of the C shaped Sofa.

Dejarik. What a game.

“Dearest.” His hand reached out and plucked the cigarra from her lips once more, stains of red rimming the edge of it. A puff of smoke escaped her cooed lips as slight surprise drew on her face. He placed soft red stains upon his own lips and took a draw, smoke filling his lungs. “Darling. Danger. Please, just get to you what you want.”

The smoke exited his lungs and lips, spilling down onto her.

“I'm eager to say no so I can see the look on your face.” The Cigarra waggled as he spoke.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

It took every ounce of determination Danger had to suppress the itching desire to nail him right on the jaw. Oh that smug was plastered across his face, it wasn't hard to miss. At this distance one with a weaker heart would likely be taken in by the sight. A toned body complete with that ruggedly handsome face. Granted, he held the mars of a bruise or two; the trademark of a man who used his fists.

Danger was caught between a son of a schutta and a hard place. If she went and told him off for calling her endearments, the game would be up. If she let him be, then he'll continue to be an ass. He wanted her to get to the point. But no one knew better than Danger that if you rush a man you can destroy the mood all together.

Those mirrored sunglasses would shine her reflection, and just like he took her vice from her anew, so would she from he. Her prize would be the capture of those mocking sunglasses from his face. Piercing blue eyes with a hint of glaze would stare right back at her. She wouldn't know it, but it was his allergy to alcohol that would allow the woman to be so quick at plucking them from his face.

She would slip them on, her head cocking to the side as she would say sweetly, coyly, and oh so lovingly.

"Just you Mistah Kuhn,"

Danger's voice now held had a smoky Southern whisper that a man didn’t so much hear as inhale. Her voice hung at the belt buckle, in a tone that would make any man lean forward, holding his breath for fear of missing a word or an opportunity.

"And get to know each other a little better, no?"

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric took a long drag of the Cigarra.

It burnt down, the embers falling uncontrolled onto the floor, his faced remained straight and he didn't blink in the slightest. It was as though he were breathing regular air. A smile came across his lips, and if he was upset at her response, then he did not show it. Instead that goofy grin simply came back onto his face, and when he opened his mouth his voice was a song of amusement.

“Well if thats the case.” The Cigarra dropped from his lips, falling onto the floor, a hazard that would be ready to spark a flame in just a second. With drunken coordination born of a man thrown into a thousand fist fights Alric reached out and snatched Danger.

His arms grasped her full hips, and he pulled her forward before she could react or pull away.

In that moment Danger got to know Alric incredibly well, perhaps more than she hand intended even with her siren call of a voice. The belligerent drunk planted a deep full kiss on Danger's bright red lips, holding nothing back and showing no modesty at all.

She did want to get to know him after all.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

Dry lightning would crack across the skies with the manner by which Alric Kuhn managed to piss off the Trade Queen with his impromptu hold. Warm, full curves went crashing tightly against the hard wall of his chest, fingers digging tightly and holding her in place. Lips locked and he would swallow her indignant gasp, only to thoroughly ravage it without apology or mercy.

He'd taste of whiskey and smoke to her simmering anger and frustration she had kept boiled down. One would expect her to pull back, to jerk free. One could perhaps say that the shock of his belligerent drunken audacity had been enough to stun Dangereuse Rose Arceneau. However, there was no denying the spark of anger that would fan the heightened awareness in a hot pump of blood through her body.

He kissed her roughly, and she reacted in turn. Only perhaps, not quite in the way he expected. For there was one thing in the game Danger would play, the tease and the coy talk. In it was the dare, the challenge to see who would call her bluff. None so far had ever dared, perhaps in intimidation or perhaps in fear at prompting an insult.

Took a few seconds, but it wasn't long before Alric would come to realize that her squirms and the fingers that would dig at his shoulders had nothing to do with an attempt to get away.

Oh no, by all intents and purposes, the woman was very well participating in the act and then some. She would match him stroke for stroke, lash for lash, and passion for passion. They'd graduated to another game.

A whole nuther gravball court.

Question was if they were about to burn up in literal flames or not, seeing as the still smoldering cigarillo would slowly start to heat the fine Alderanian rug it rested in.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Had he been sober, Alric would've allowed his mind to question what was coming on. The curling of her fingers, the bite of her nails, the feel of her lips against his own the press of her curves against him. He would have questioned all of this, the odd change of pace within her body language and the way she reacted, but his mind didn't let him.

Oh Alric still thought, even Xo couldn't stop him from thinking.

Yet he no longer thought about how to upset her, what his next move should be, or how Danger could likely have him killed in a heart beat.

Instead his thoughts turned to the moment, to the game that was now at hand. Yes, even this was a game. The move she was making was an interesting one. What did it mean? What did she want? Was she genuine or acting? The flick of her tongue answered his question, and he found his grip on her hips suddenly slipping to the small of her back. One hand rose quickly, crawling up her spine and pulling her closer while the other fell to her rear.

His fingers touched a zipper, and without hesitation he pulled it down.

A grab tight grope of his hand, and a further fall saw his hand hook beneath her leg and lift, picking it off the ground and pulling her further against him.

This game was so different. Not at all similar to what it had been before, not at all similar to the game he had with Xo. It was something new entirely, something where nearly every move was a winning one.

He liked it.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

There came the mammaquatia, the kiss of cold air and then the replacement of warmth. Danger would squirm, heightening desire. Lust would surge and in it came the rough jerk of a belt. A button gave, flew off, and landed softly on the carpet. Feet would shift, she'd move back, sole of her heel crushing the smoldering cig under her foot. The back of her knee would hit the small coffee table, that glass she'd set down toppling to spill over and clatter to the ground, saturating the floor with Whyren's best.

Back went crashing against that couch, and she took him with her. Danger forced away the thought that this was crazy. That they were wedged between the couch and the coffee table. And, most importantly, that she still barely had any clue on who in tarnation he really was.

But she wasn't about to slow down and ask again.

Those fancy glasses of his that had been streaming information would get jerked off. They would sail from her hands and end up clattering onto the floor behind the couch, the lenses facing the glassteel window. There was no denying it; out of the frying pan an into the fire. Alric Kuhn managed to hit a switch ain't no one hit for a long long while.

For what the Trade Queen had held in a dare had been the desire of a man to have the turadium balls to cross the line and call her bluff. Alric Kuhn did. And in this he'd find her hot, inviting, frantic and hungry.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He had no idea how much time had passed. It was difficult to discern the passage of minutes or even seconds when one was both drunk, and in the throws of passion. What he did know was that time enough had passed that the clocks on the writing on some of the nearby walls had become less fuzzy, and the objects within the room, and the room itself for that matter no longer seemed to be twirling.

Danger had frakked him back into sobriety.

They lay on the couch, uncovered and without modesty, both of them laying still for the time being. Alrics head rested against the back of the sofa, his eyes up and searching through the room. One arm snaked around the back of her head, hand resting upon her chest. The other lay across his stomach where curiously he found one of her palms.

His mind was racing with thoughts of the game, of the plays, of what had just happened and the implications behind it all. There were several moves he could make, several leaps he could take. Yet the game had changed.

It had shifted and changed into something else, it had wandered and become something new.

But it was still a game.

Alric remained quiet, just as Danger did, their labored tired breathing being the only sound within the room. Then suddenly he spoke. “I'm still not selling you Blas-Tech.”

 

[Danger Arceneau]

"Not yet."

The plain spoken and southern accented answer came out with a clear assurance. Her eyes were closed, a thin sheen of sweat would cool her hot flesh. The dress she wore itched across her middle, and every limb felt the lingering tingle of deep satisfaction. It was a satisfaction that came at a baser level, where raw and primal need would take over a time to make one forget.

Already the implications of their actions would trickle into her mind, feeding like maggots on a womp-rat carcass. Her legs would be sore as would her arms. Taking stock of the situation, she'd finally open her eyes.

poodoo.

The scent of them would linger in the air, as would the taste of whiskey and cigarettes in her mouth. Drawing from his embrace, she was quick to pull away. Were he to grab for her, he would only get air.

She'd stand, stocking-ed feet touching the ground - she'd lost her heels in the earlier endeavors - balancing with her back turned to him as she would adjust her dress.

Her momma done told her that a woman is like whiskey. She evaporates a little over time, distilled by disappointments and grief. One can never predict if the galaxy will take the best of her or the worst. Only time will tell if the woman that remains will be bitter, dispirited, or aged to perfection.

With the bitterness of Noxu and Narevni at her heels, her weaknesses were never as startlingly evident as in the now.

“This don’t mean a thing,” Danger said. “You understand that, don’t you?” In Danger's mind, Alric Kuhn was an arrogant, no good, opportunist with an itch to fight a game he had no sense playing.