How'd You Like Your Gift?

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric remained on the cough, though his eyes followed her. He was far more naked than she. Danger still had the dress around her mid-section while he had lost his pants some time ago. His shirt had been torn and more buttons were missing than he knew what to do with.

His eyes looked away from her for a moment.

Righting himself on the couch Alric made himself slightly more comfortable as he leaned against the back of the soft leather, his right arm came up to touch the back of his neck, rubbing slightly as though he was sore. There was a distinct change in her voice, a tone that was different than before. Had she dropped the act? Had he broken through?

Had he won?

He looked at her, the slight amount of panic emanating from her along with that sense of fear. He knew exactly why, and when she spoke her words and intent were made all the more clear. Yes he had broken through, and he had found something...vulnerable. Suddenly the facade he had been wearing was gone as well.

Alric was not a nice man, but he was not entirely without sense, reason, and empathy.

“Don't you worry, love.” A thick Empress Tetan accent suddenly broke through his speech, high born nobility mixed with a slight mispronunciation of certain letters.. “I understand.”

There was no goofy grin, no taunt in his voice, nothing that said he wasn't serious.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

The thick Empress Teta accent surprised her, but she didn't turn around. Danger was caught in a shimmy as she would slid the dress back down her thighs and over her legs. A grimace came to her then, the afterthought to a telltale tangible reminder of what had transpired.
Feth.

Her shoulders would straighten, hands smoothing the black ruffled fabric as the long length of her tousled hair would sway about her shoulders. Talk about letting her hair down. Gone was any trace of the perfectly coiffed upswept hair. In its stead the titan mane would fall in soft waves just past the bare curves of her shoulders.

“Don't you worry, love...I understand.”

That word. A hard look came to her expression, and she would fix a hard look at him. "I ain't your love Mistah Kuhn." the southern accent was thicker, huskier, but held no honey in its wake. Her eyes would pin him to that couch, locking her gaze on the naked man that not minutes before held her crying out to the Twin Suns. And while she pulled in her claws, there was no denying the slight sense of unsteadiness about the woman. Whatever Danger might be, it was not in her nature to bite a man's balls off.

With as much dignity as she could muster, she'd turn away moving away from the couch. She would force her legs to carry her stride, keeping her chin up with as much defiance and intestinal fortitude as she could. What she did shook her, ain't no doubt about that.

Now it was all about damage control.

Ironic, the one thing she wanted came to bite her in the ass once and for all. And with a man who she could hold no claim over to control.

Feth.

Danger depended on instinct not experience. And in this, her gut told her she had to think quick. Her mind would race. Feth, she needed a drink. Feth, she needed a smoke.

Her stride would take her back to the bar, where she'd left the silver case that held the sweet narcotics to steel her nerves.

"How much for Blast-Tech?" came her question, with only the slightest of quivers in her voice. She cursed herself for it.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric heard the quiver of her voice, the bite in her tone, the bile in her throat. It wasn't because of him. He knew that well enough, she wasn't disgusted with him, or even herself. That wasn't the reason for her current state.

She was disturbed by the actions she had taken.

It had been out of character for her. He hadn't broken through the facade, he had shattered it into a trillion pieces. There was no more arguments, no more subtle games or riddles, she was being herself. She was being the real Danger Arceneau, she was being who she really was. He frowned slightly, his hand still rubbing the back of his neck as his feet touched the ground.

Oddly he found his pants.

Had he won?

The thought struck him only a few seconds after his toes touched the fabric. He wasn't sure. She was acting differently, being more forthright, but...but it was different. This had not been how he wanted it, this had not been according to the game. It wasn't the rules that had been changed, it was the entire freaking board.

“Alric.” He muttered quietly as she spoke to him again, the shake of her voice and the slight hint of something else grating at him.

It was an instant reaction, and one could say part of his upbringing. Once someone had been inside you it was generally okay to call them by their first name.

He thought for a moment more, watching her move with a slight shake of her body. Alric gazed at her hands specifically, watching them shake slightly, move and quiver about as she tried to steady herself, her thoughts. Was there regret? Alric regretted few things in life. The Game had been changed, he wasn't sure if he had won, and admittedly he was shaken, but the events of the past hours were not something he regretted.

Far from it oddly enough.

Her question caused his eyes to narrow and his toes to curl. With a dextrous foot he lifted his pants off the floor and shook them out, straightening the legs so that he could pull them on, he didn't bother trying to find his underwear.

“I told you.” Alric said as he slowly pulled on his pants while still sitting. “It's not for sale.”

Truthfully he didn't care about Blas-Tech in the slightest. If the offer was good enough he would sell the company at the drop of a hat, but it payed to play hard to get.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

What she said next would be enough to make August Arceneau roll in his grave.

“I’ll give you five percent of Arceneau Trade for it, Mistah Kuhn.” Danger would say in a flat tone, using that title like she was slamming down a wall. It wasn't out of cordiality or mere pleasantries. This was something different. She wouldn’t look at him. She wouldn’t dare. Her back was still towards him, the light casting shadows along the bare skin of her back, dancing over the smooth shoulder blades that would peek-a-boo through the length of auburn hair. A hint of flesh that for some reason made her appear far more vulnerable than before.

Her fingers would clutch at the silver case, a flick of her thumb popping the lid open to fetch with slightly trembling fingers her vice. The flick of a lighter would bloom a scarlet yellow glow over her visage, reflecting against the wall and giving the appearance of a temporary halo.

The irony.

She sucked in deep. The red tip of the narcotic burning half an inch of ash, bringing with it the durasteel to coat her rattled nerves. Smoke came pouring out of the corner of her mouth. She didn’t even blink.

“And your silence.”

Ain't no mistaking what that meant.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He looked considering for a moment. Five percent of Arceneau Trade was worth about as much as Blas-Tech, if not more, no definitely more. The Stock was more versatile and in his hands it could be far more useful than Blas-Tech, especially since that stock would immediately rise once the sale of Blas-Tech would actually be announced.

He watched her, eyes following every move closely. The shake of her hand, the stemming of the smoke, the flutter of her unkempt hair. The way she now held herself. So defensive, as if she was vulnerable, as if he were a viper about to strike.

Alric seriously considered her offer.

Then she spoke again.

His face suddenly turned sour. Alrics expression grew grim, lips turning down, eyes growing hard, eyebrows shifting slightly, the slight wrinkle of his forehead setting him off. His silence? Did she really think he would extort her in that way? Use her and toss her to the side? Was he really such a monster to her.

Granted, he had before their encounter acted like a complete and total tool, but that thought never entered his mind.

Perhaps because of the tenderness he had shown her not minutes before.

“My silence!?” Indignation roughed through his voice, and Alric stood. “You can't buy something I would never sell.”

That could be taken in multiple ways, but Alric meant it in a sense that no offer of money or material wealth could ever get him to reveal what had transpired here, not to anyone. The fact that she tried to buy his silence was an insult. He may have been a bad person, had people kidnapped, extorted, and even killed, but there was some chivalry in him.

Oddly, he expected her to know that.

Alric swept the belt up from the floor, grasping it and looping it through his pants as he walked towards the door, he made no move to collect his ruined shirt, his socks, jacket, or glasses, simply made to leave, yelling at Danger as he did so.

“You could offer me twenty, hell fifty, kark it, a hundred percent of that company and I would still say no. Anyone could! I would tell them to kark off just like I'm telling you.” He practically ripped the panel to the door off the wall, forcing the door open. “Have a good one, Danger. Enjoy the karking cigarettes.”

His voice was bitter, angry, and oddly resentful. The last was meant as an odd insult, a jab towards her current state, her need to steady the nerves through the use of narcotics.

Had she hurt his feelings?

Odd.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

The panel would slam shut would an echo, prompting only the slightest of flinches from the Trade Queen. Fingers would play with the white cylindrical vice, her left arm coming to rest under her breasts and bridging to her right, holding it against her. Her thumb would flick the filter edge, scattering ash as her mind would race.

Feth. Feth!

"Well... ain't he madder than two nexu trapped in a bag," Alisha's highly amused drawl would enter the room a few minutes later, her laughter punctuated only by her sudden question.

"Danger?" The Rutian was one of the few who held the right to call her by name. Through the years her and Alisha'ven managed to get Arceneau Trade where it is now. Where at one time it was but a speck in August Arceneau's eyes. Gone on nine years now. Nine years since she took over the reigns, bringing it to where it was today. A trade empire cross several territories and neigh on spanning the entire galaxy and beyond.

"Get Six." she would say quietly. The reference would be clear only to the Rutian. Her gaze was still fixated upon the decanter of Corellian whiskey. She'd glance over her shoulder, not missing a beat at the Twi'leks rather knowing expression. There ain't missing that scent of musk, Alric's state of undress, and her ruffled appearance.

That deep drag she took earlier came billowing out in a cloud of smoke.

"I'm going home."