Kael Varnok hated suits.
The thought ran through his head for the twentieth time as he adjusted the stiff collar of the deep navy jacket that hugged his frame. Whoever had tailored it had clearly taken one look at his build and decided "armored fortress" was the aesthetic to lean into. The fabric strained over broad shoulders and wrapped around a torso carved by years of combat, as though it had been designed to remind everyone he could snap the crystal stem of a wine glass with two fingers.
His reflection in the polished glass near the entrance was… tolerable. The scars peeking up from his collar, the faint glint of tattoos curling against his neck, the untamed shock of red hair, and the ever-present smirk that tugged at the edge of his mouth—they weren't hidden, only dressed up. He tugged at the collar again and muttered under his breath.
"Robes, armor, hell, even rags—fine. But this?" He huffed. "Whoever thought wrapping me like a Core world senator was a good idea, I should let my other half strangle."
"Other half?" The voice came quick, sharp, coiling in the back of his skull. "Don't pin this on me. I'd never put us in a straitjacket like this. Look at them—peacocks strutting in gold. Weak. Breakable."
Kael clenched his jaw and forced a slow exhale through his nose. Not tonight, he reminded himself, pushing past the ornate doors. Neutral ground. No fighting. No corpses on the floor.
Neutral, the voice laughed bitterly. As if neutrality exists. They hide their knives in smiles. I'd bet credits half this room has blood under their nails already. You know it. I know it. We could—
Shut it, Kael snapped inwardly, blue eyes scanning the chandeliers, the dancers, the gleaming tables of cards and drinks. He reached out, snagged a glass of Alderaanian wine from a passing server, and swirled it lazily. On the surface, he looked composed, even charming, but the tension was there in the twitch of his jaw and the sharp line of his shoulders.
"Serenity, my ass," he muttered, smirk tugging at his lips as he raised the glass to no one in particular. "Let's see how long it takes before this little masquerade cracks."