Private Human Capital

[Malcoma Hesse]

Gula's Palace, Nar Shaddaa
// Gula the Hutt \\
​

To be the best meant to have the best. And to have the best meant being picky.

This was the third face-to-face Malcoma was going to have with a slave trader this week. Markets all over the sectors had blossomed after the nearby Confederacy of Independent Systems had faded on the galactic stage, and with them their particularly harsh stance against slavery.

Good riddance was all she had to say. She might have through a party if she had ever settled down to build herself a replacement headquarters for Eve Escorts. Not quite yet. The time still wasn't right, but it would be sooner than she expected back in her old stomping grounds of all places: Coruscant.

For now, though, something else was long overdue, and she planned to address it: a sister for her girls Pranda and Luha. Given their little family's living situation—a starship shuttle—only one, a replacement for Avan, would be logistically feasible. Malcoma was hopeful she would find as much amongst those poor souls Gula had to auction. Of course, she'd never admit as much to anyone, least of all him.

Damris, a human man dressed in a crisp three piece suit, shadowed his boss up to the gates of the Hutt palace.

 

[Gula the Hutt]

"OH YEAH BABY!" Gula grunted as he began to lift the large barbell close to his chin. The Hutt had spending most of his morning lifting trying to maintain his rock-hard muscles. From bicep curls to stretches, Gula worked hard pushing himself to the limit beads of sweat pouring from his already slimy skin. "I'M AT 550 REPS!" Gula shouted lifting the barbell again. Two slave girls, a red headed human and a twileak watched him work while trying not to say a word. "It's actually 536 my lord." One of Gula's soldiers a human male muttered.

"WHAT?!" Gula threw the barbell onto the ground. There was a loud crack heard as he slammed it, the slave girls screamed and ran towards the corner their chains clacking together as they did so. The human male gulped taking a small step backwards. "IT WAS FUCKING 550!" Gula shouted flecks of spit splattered over the man's face. "YOUR MATH IS OFF JAREK!"

"Y-Yes sir of course!" Jerek said as one of the servants a male Twileak ran towards Gula. "My lord!" He shouted. " A guest has arrived!"

"Ah her!" Gula said cracking his knuckles. "Send her in and let's talk business!"

Malcoma Hesse

 

[Malcoma Hesse]

Gula the Hutt​

Malcoma could tell Damris wanted to mutter something like "I don't like this," as they walked down the palace entryway. He was a good bodyguard, and being a good bodyguard meant living life in the yellow. Constantly. He barely let his own guard down in his office in Eden's Club.

To try and break the tension, she leaned over and whispered to him, "Relax, baby." She paused to make sure their usher wasn't looking back at them before continuing even more quiet, "I'm the one who hates Hutts; not you."

He chuckled despite himself. Malcoma's lips quirked ever so slightly as she saw Damris' shoulders drop just so.

"Gula!" Once she was announced, she had to force the exclamation from her lips, but her voice was not any less sensuous for it. She excelled in acting after all. It was only most of her job. "Your marvelousness. Very kind of you to reply so promptly to my inquiry." The black market really was a wonderful place.