Faction Night of Passion [TSE & Friends]

[AMCO]

Passion, New Kaas City, Dromund Kaas
[Art Source]​

As was so often the case, it was a stormy night in New Kaas City, though for the occasion an umbrella-like energy shield had been erected over the small park that housed the entrance to his newest nightclub, droplets of rain turning to fine mist upon impact.

Invitations had been dispatched, a small army of employees assembled, and a veritable cornucopia of drinks, drugs, and snacks prepared - it was not often that a Dark Councillor opened a nightclub, after all, and the sycophants were bound to come crawling in herds - no matter, for he had long since learned to handle them with practised ease while seeking more interesting conversation.

Straightening the jacket of his absurdly expensive suit, Adrian stepped into the elevator that would shuttle him from his penthouse to the club deep below, just as the first guests began to trickle in through a sloping stairway flanked by extravagant murals.

---
OOC: Hello there, you may consider this a social, low-pressure contrast to the impending Invasion Season™ - show up, buy a drink, try some shady substances, and have a chat. If you insist on murdering each others, use poison, not explosives - we're not lowlifes around these parts.

Anyway, you may consult Passion's Submission for the details, but in short, it's a high-end underground (literally) nightclub in the richer parts of Kaas City with the bulk of the club being split between several large sections centred around stages and dance floors; the roof is very high and mezzanines holding lounges and doors to private rooms ring the walls.

P.S.: TSE & Friends can be considered an open invitation for all you non-TSE people, assuming you can plausibly justify your presence and/or own a really good fake moustache. Remember, plenty of time for bloodshed in the inevitable wave of invasions, so stay polite... polite by Sith standards.

 

[Amur]

She couldn't explain why she felt so... mellow. Walking down into the sloping stair case and down into the noise and presence of the night club. It seemed so promising to her when she first decided to come here. Meet new people, forge new connections and maybe catch some dirty laundry or skeletons as she wandered into the deepest, darkest perversions and failings of her fellow compatriots. This wasn't the first time she'd had been to such pleasure palaces, Corellia had a few and it was eye opening when Dex showed her what clean and principled politicians are really like behind closed doors... That never changed no matter what den of the galaxy you were in, it just showed in different ways. That was the crux of it memories and similarities.

She would move to one of the lounges on the main floor at her first chance as Amur was getting frustrated with herself. She could feel her scars continuing to burn away and her joints grinding with each passing second. She was letting the past get in the way, like a mopey edgy goth that thought they were 'deep' and 'provoking'. Something needed to be done so that she could just shut that part of her brain off so she could engage and indulge. After all there was a Dark councilor here. Her eyes gazed to one of the many offerings of passion's embrace now having a burning curiosity perhaps this would do the trick. She perused the many different flavorings at hand until she settled on one simply called 'euphoria'. Taking the sketchy substance in it's syringed form and slotting it into a slot in her armor she could feel it course through her veins like fire. Her heart beat exploded for a brief second and she found her self tilting her head down as the drug began to work it's way through her body.

Amur looked up and was shocked at what she saw. What at first to her mind seemed like a dark shadow infested and sleazy club now seemed to light up in front of her eyes. Colors and lights jumped out and sparkled in front of her. The haze and bloom of the lighting meshing and blurring together in a kaleidoscope of contrast. Her pain too seeming to clear and fade from her mind feeling distant as her prior feelings were diluted and shrouded by the drug, now only a faint itch rather than a constant agony. A smirk now forming underneath her helmet as her chest seemed to be now be bursting with elation and energy. A new perspective began to form as her emotional transplant began to interact with her mind.

She could see it now and what she saw was opportunity. Secrets to be uncovered, allies to be gained through song, spirit and scuffles and all the ways she could make this night hers. A dance on the stage, a chat at the bar, or maybe even a trip to one of the private chambers with a old fart who was into roleplay and would fancy a mock interrogation. All of it lighting up to her as she saw the magnitude of strings to pull. So many choices for a girl to pick on this fine night. First though a drink was in order. Getting up with a new strut and stride to her step she made her way to the lounge's bar.

She would lean over over the counter towards the bartender, a strapping zeltron who looked exquisite. She even disabled her voice modulator so everyone could hear the natural sound of her voice. "I'll take a Correlian Caf hon, heavy on the Corellian." She ordered almost giggling to herself over her own wording. This was gonna be fun.

 

[Inanna Harth]

Appearance: A brunette in a silvery green dress

Accompanied by Paul Dimiter, a fairly high-ranking member of the Office of Imperial Truth, Inanna arrived. As she had been told to expect, there wasn’t much of a line to get into Passion, which made her wonder if the place was really worthwhile. But Paul had insisted it was a knockout attraction, the hottest place in town—provided she could get in. And would she like his help, ha, getting in?

So far, she was not impressed. Tower Vandiir, of which the club was a part, hardly stood out from the rest of the city skyline. “I still don’t understand what you see in this place,” she remarked.

“The interior, girl, the interior!” Paul insisted, gesturing toward the stairway leading down into the club. “Don’t judge a book by its cover—don’t judge a nightclub until you’ve been inside!”

Inanna followed him, her eyes flicking over the murals lining the walls as they descended. She would hesitate to call them art, given the nature of them—what they depicted and how they depicted it—but then they were decorations in a nightclub, not an art gallery or ancient chapel.

At the bottom, they emerged into a massive chamber divided into various entertainment areas. The air was mercifully not clogged with cigarra smoke or spice fumes, but that was most likely due to the sheer size of it. Music pounded, echoing through the space, and she saw that most of the patrons seemed to be occupying the dance floor.

“What do you think of this?” Paul asked, shouting to be heard.

Smiling, she spread her hands in a shrugging gesture, as if she were overwhelmed. Paul laughed and took her hand, pulling her toward the bar. The moment his back was turned, the smile slipped from her face. She hated places like this—sleazy, slimy, grasping—yet she obliged those who frequented them in order to make her way in this strange new world.

Taking a seat where Paul directed her, she avoided looking directly at any of the secret doors which seemed to loom around her. She had an idea of what went on behind them. Thinking about it too long was sure to turn her stomach.

"Hey, bartender!" Paul shouted, his cheeks already flushed even though he hadn't had anything to drink yet. "I'll have a beer—finest you've got!"

The Zeltron bartender winked at him, then turned to Inanna. He took one look at her outfit and whistled. "How about you?"

"Nothing too strong, please," she said, polite but distracted. Her eyes roamed across the counter, taking in the other patrons. A masked female clad in all-black, a handful of aliens, mostly humans and humanoids... her gaze was drawn to a pale, thin creature with pointed ears sitting at the far end of the bar.

Paul followed her gaze. "That's a changeling. I wouldn't stare at it for too long if I were you—they're shifty creatures, shapeshifters... heh, no offense."

Ignoring him, she continued to watch the spindly figure. It was female, judging by the softer features. Someone approached the changeling, leaning down to whisper in her ear, and she rose from her chair, following him through one of the doors that lined the leviathan walls.

Paul, who had been momentarily preoccupied by the arrival of an overly-friendly acquaintance, turned back to where Inanna had been and found her seat empty.

AMCO Amur

 

[Thraztin]

Maiven stepped out of the taxi that had kindly brought her from the hotel complex to this club. It was nice that this club was shielded from the rain. She wore her white Chiss Officer dress uniform. Not her first choice of outfit for an establishment like this, but aside from her armor and sleepwear it was all she had brought to Dromund Kaas. When the Ascendancy had sent her to lead troops in aid of the Sith she never expected to find herself here. She didn't even know the Sith had such establishments, but then again she knew little of the Empire before coming here. The Sith Empire had always been the one part of the galaxy she never had the pleasure of visiting.

It came to her pretty quickly that the Sith knew how to treat their guests. When she found the invitation on her bed side at the hotel she was uncertain, but her anxiety dissipated when she stepped through the doors and into the club. Flanked by two Chiss bodyguards she found a booth and sat down to observe the floor. Her skills as an infiltrator made her immediately notice the plethora of security, and she wondered who would be stupid enough to start something in the center of New Kaas City.

She stood from the booth, to which her bodyguards dismayed, but ultimately were unable to stop her. They were loyal men, in service to her family when they were Aristocrae. Now they were loyal to her.

She wandered the dimly neon lit club in search of the drug that she had heard was made famous by this club. It turned out, without surprise, that Passion's Embrace was incredibly easy to find here. And the selection was immense. She spent a few minutes pondering her options before settling on one that intrigued her: Satisfaction. It was a step in a different direction from the others like lust, horror, joy. Those were all pretty standard, and she had no problem feeling those emotions without a stimulant. She wasn't however, often satisfied.

She ordered the drug and it swiftly arrived in the bottom of a glass, a pleasing yellow color. She swigged the substance back and within minutes felt it take a hold of her. She ordered a regular drink to wash it down. Just an ale, but for some reason it was far and away the best she had ever tasted, even though deep down she knew that it couldn't have been.

She made her way across the club and back to her booth in order to watch the night unfold. She knew that once she sat on the soft cushions she was content to stay there for as long as Passion's Embrace held her. She didn't often get the chance to do this kind of stuff back home, and it was amazing.

She watched in awe at the various dancers around the club. She couldn't ask for better moves or prettier people even if she tried.

AMCO | Inanna Harth | Amur

 

[Farah]

“Foito, they’re everywhere.” Farah had never been to Zeltros, but she guessed that this was pretty much what it looked like. Too many wanton, licentious Zeltrons milling about with their perfect, scantily clad bodies. The doctor was no stranger to losing her inhibitions in a private manner, thank you very much, but the discrimination she’d faced in more academic circles for the color of her skin was enough to think of herself as a cut above your common Zeltron.

Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves except for Farah, as per usual.

She’d arrived as the companion of a neurologist with shady connections of his own—really, she was just trying to get in on his new memory-drug therapy trial. Presently she was nursing some sort of mixed drink while a man twice her perceived age boasted about his deeds in the operating room.

“Incredible.” Farah couldn’t sound enthused if she tried. Idly, she jabbed at a piece of fruit floating in her glass with the accompanying toothpick. She was annoyed. Talk was cheap and she was starting to think that this blowhard’s trial wasn’t worth it at all.

“Excuse me,” She placed her nearly empty glass down on the counter of the bar. “I think I see my friends over there.”

Without so much as an apologetic smile, the Zeltron drifted away to approach a waitress who was carrying a tray of food—small portions of cheese and meat with a toothpick though the center. She swiped a handful and began eating, beckoning the serving girl to stay nearby, all within sight of her “date”.

AMCO | Amur | Inanna Harth | Maiven

 

[Lark]

Passion was a far cry from the typical gathering organized by the Sith, although there was still an elegance to the decadence and depravity. This place had Adrian's name written all over it. Indeed, the nightclub's name couldn't have been more proper. Drugs, drinking, gambling, and sex were present in excess, and there was a beauty to it all that Lark couldn't deny. He had seen people ruin themselves over such things, one of his methods of breaking people involved feeding them their addictions. But here? There were no addicts, no mere junkies looking for their next hit. Just a plethora of people with a single goal in mind: Have a good time.

At the moment, Lark sat at a table near one of the more prominent dancing stages, sipping a glass of rum. He had managed to grant his nameless pirate friend access to the party, and the man was clearly enthralled by the crystalline lights, and perhaps the dancers a bit more so. Lark wouldn't have dared bring the man to any other social gathering, but here the pirate managed to fit right in. A noble and a handful of nervous young soldiers filled out the rest of the seats, and the group laughed and told stories of their exploits.

"These are the best damn drinks I've ever had," the pirate said, slamming down his fifth glass in the twenty or so minutes he had been at the club. The man could handle his alcohol, that was for certain. He studied the menu, narrow eyes searching for his next drink. "Say, you plannin' on tryin' one of these Passion Embrace drugs everyone's goin' on about? Think I might give it a go, myself."

All of the sub-flavors were just synonyms of "Passion" in some sense. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested. There was one that caught his eye. "Peace," it was called. Lark had often sought out his own peace, but each of his shifting personas had their own definition. One wanted to reunite with his family, one wanted to ascend the ranks of the Empire. One simply wanted to lounge around and have a good time, while the most dangerous wanted to be the last one standing while the galaxy burned. Peace was hard to come across when one's own goals contradicted themselves so often.

He doubted a synthetic drug would offer any answers. But he was curious regardless. "Yes, I think I will," he responded softly. With a wave of his hand, a server immediately attended to their needs. Being friends with the host certainly had its benefits. Lark ordered "Peace" and a glass of red wine, while the pirate ordered "Fervor" and more rum. The drugs were mixed in with another drink, and with a loud, amiable cheer, the two clinked their glasses and downed their drugs in one go.

The effects were immediate. An overwhelming sense of relief took hold of Lark, and he let it wash over him entirely. His pale skin tingled with warmth, as though he was in a heated bath after a cool evening in the snow. All his worries melted away, only the immediate moment was important. He took a sip of his wine, never had he tasted anything so sweet. The aurora of lights danced across the ceiling, Lark couldn't help but quietly chuckle to himself as he enjoyed staring at everything in the club.

But there was more fun to be had. The drug lasted for a few hours, why waste that time sitting around? There were dances to be had, strangers to meet! Somewhere deep within, Lark felt another persona being more within him, one that never had been seen before but was no less true than any other personality Lark had once used.

An aura of absolute tranquility followed Lark as he rose from his table, and began wandering around Passion. So many interesting characters caught his eye- an armored Sith Knight, a Chiss Officer watching the floor from above. Lark's pirate friend had also made his move, flirting with one of the dancers as she dragged him backstage. In other places, a pale woman chased after a changeling, and a pretty Zeltron woman abandoned her date. And he hadn't yet seen Adrian, who would surely get a kick out of seeing Lark in the state he was in.

Lark smiled at anyone he made eye contact with, and he laughed as he danced. For just one night, he could forget all his worries. Serenity, amity, peace. That was all Lark felt, and those near him felt the same.

AMCO Farah Maiven Amur Inanna Harth

 

[Inanna Harth]

Appearance: A brunette in a silvery green dress

The room was dimly lit, with a faint red glow. She could make out the silhouettes of a large bed, a drug dispensary, and some sort of electronic device. No sooner had she slipped in behind the pair, Inanna was grabbed by the shoulders and shoved against the wall, an arm pinned across her throat.

“State your name and your business here,” a low, reedy voice demanded.

“My name is Inanna,” she replied. “I heard you were changelings, like me.”

The arm relaxed, as did the grip on her shoulders, but the male who had grabbed her was still on guard. He stepped away, standing beside the other changeling. Both regarded her curiously.

“Are you a courtesan?” the female asked, raising her chin. Her wispy voice matched her physique.

“Oh, no,” Inanna replied, glancing down at herself. “This dress is just a conversation piece.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Forgive me—I didn’t mean to intrude. I only thought that perhaps we might share a common lineage. Are you Shi’ido?”

“Mesinis’Kaita is what our creator named us,” the female replied. “We are born of the Sith.”

“Grown in a lab,” the male added sourly.

“I see…” Inanna murmured. She had known scientists who sought to play God. She had even loved one, once. “Then you are a new species of changeling?”

“Not new.” The male began to stalk the room, never taking his pale eyes off her as he paced. “Crossbreeds. We are five different species spliced together, resembling none more than the others. We have no homeworld, no identity. We were created to be servants of the Sith. Yet our creator has cursed us with free will—”

“That’s enough,” the female interrupted, regarding her counterpart coldly. “You talk too much.” Turning to Inanna, she asked, “Were you born on Lao-mon?”

“Yes,” Inanna answered, surprised that the female had heard of her homeworld. “My family still lives there. Most of our kind never leave our planet.”

“Why not?”

“Well, I suppose most of us don’t see any reason to,” she explained. “We are content with what we have. Our cities are not as grand as this, but our children play happily in the streets. It is a place on the edge of the galaxy, far from the destruction and wars at the center, too remote to attract the attention of empires.”

As she spoke, the two changelings exchanged glances. The male’s face became drawn, his gaze hardening like stone. But his words contained a tiny glimmer of hope. “Is it a place that welcomes strangers?”

“Those who come in good faith and mean no harm. To them we can offer very little, but we offer all that we have.”

The male fell into a contemplative silence. The female averted her pale eyes and pursed her lips, then straightened, squaring her shoulders.

“Have we satisfied your curiosity?” she asked stiffly.

“Yes, I believe so.” Smiling, Inanna bowed her head respectfully. “I am pleased to have met you, and I wish you well. But I won’t bother you anymore.”

She backed out of the room, returning to the throbbing music and fervor of the main chamber, only to bump into Paul.

“There you are!” he exclaimed. “Inanna, you’ve simply got to try this stuff—it’s the signature dish, the main draw, the liquid gold that keeps people coming back…”

There were two glasses in his hands. The one he held out to her looked like an ordinary glass of wine. She glanced from the cup to his leering face, and guessed the true contents of the drink.

“Really, darling,” she crooned, placing both hands on his neck. “You don’t have to ply me with a love potion to get the desired effect…”

Paul’s eyes widened, and he quickly downed his own glass in anticipation. Taking the glasses from his hands and setting them aside, she dragged him toward one of the private rooms—and left him there in the capable hands of one of the club’s employees.

Dusting herself off, she returned to the bar. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d still like that drink,” she told the Zeltron. “Minus the ‘liquid gold’.”

AMCO Amur Farah Lark Maiven

 

[Arjant Clevenger]

While folks came here for the literal purpose of finding passion Reynalv had come to network with people; to find associates and others that would be willing to partner with him in his projects that were either being developed or still in the early phases of being planned out. Of course, he also was interested in the vices and sins this club had to offer which was why he opted coming here first before any other scenario he could think of. Did he actually feel happy and accomplished of pursuing objectives to benefit his House? Truthfully, he did not. A life of wealth and luxury, literally being handed things on a silver platter and having silver spoon in his mouth, did not complement his life. At least complement his wants and needs he longed for. A life of misery and grey was what he lead throughout most of his life. Some bright moments here and there, but Reynalv could hardly reminisce on any one of them.

Truly he envied those around him at this fine, grand opening club. Most came from wealth and wished to waste their credit which would probably be recovered by the morning with whatever prestigious profits and operating income they possessed; and others, still of wealth, were sycophants like him. Trying to find someone's tail coat and ride on them.

Or maybe he'd forget the whole damn reason why he was forced to come here (forced by his advisors and members of his court) and temporarily enjoy himself with a little push of alcohol to help him get there. He was fairly good at that, along with other things. Hopefully his luck would run him into exciting avenues on this night.

 

[AMCO]

When Adrian made his entrance, it was with uncharacteristic subtlety - a wall panel slid open on one of the mezzanines and he stepped into the light and noise. A bit excessive, perhaps, but then he had invested in top-of-the-line soundproofing for the private rooms.

For, ah, more than one reason.

Taking a few minutes to get the lay of the land, he noted the presence of the interesting while disregarding the masses. An armoured Sith loosening up at the bar, a uniformed Chiss trying his drugs - that was a surprise - and Lark behaving unusually relaxed... it might do him some good.

Turning to face an approaching Changeling - Faya? - he gestured for her to speak. "You might be interested in one of the guests - female Shi'ido, very curious about, well, us." Following her gaze, he spotted a brunette neatly depositing her date in the hands of his staff. "Hmm, I like the dress - and thank you for telling me. I've always wanted to meet a Shi'ido in person; your Doppelganger cousins were based on mere samples, you know."

Before he reached the Shi'ido, however, his gaze fell on a Zeltron - hardly unusual in this place, though this one he knew. Neatly bypassing some self-important fellow trying to catch his attention, he picked a treat from the plate, nodding amiably. "Ah, Farah! It's been quite a while, enjoying yourself?" Eating one of the snacks and then another, he grinned. "Any interesting projects in the works?"

Farah || Amur | Maiven | Lark | Inanna Harth​

 

[Inanna Harth]

While Inanna sat nursing her drink, she people-watched. A Chiss woman in uniform sat in a booth overhead, clearly high on something, while down below a red-haired young man dozed at a table with a group of pirates. Then there were the usual suspects—stiff Sith soldiers soaking in alcohol in an effort to relax, luststruck fools chasing after the dancers and cafarels. The club was starting to become snug, if not cramped or overcrowded.

Her wandering eye found the female changeling she had spoken to earlier, now up in the higher levels, leaning over a railing to observe the goings-on below. She met Inanna’s eye, her face a placid mask—

Cold liquid splashed Inanna’s left arm, trickling across the counter from a tipped-over glass.

“Sorry, sorry…” The man sitting next to her frantically mopped up the spilled drink with a wad of napkins, a dark pink blush spreading across his face. The bartender frowned at him, snorting as he sized the fellow Zeltron up, then left him to clean up the mess.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, raising her arms as he awkwardly stretched toward her to wipe up the liquid. “Accidents happen.”

“Yes—and I wanted to apologize to you for earlier, too.” Catching her eye, he winked mischievously. The slightest crescent of pale white was exposed as his eye opened and closed, the effect only momentary.

“Ah.” It was the male changeling from earlier. “You might want to work on your form a little more. Male Zeltrons are supposed to be adorable studs—you’re just adorable.”

“I must not have enough practice yet,” he said, smiling. “I should probably get another drink, so I can at least look like I’m here for a reason.” Nodding toward her glass, he asked, “What are you having?”

“Nothing drugged,” she replied. “Well, not for me, at least. For Humans and Near-Humans, it can act like a mild hallucinogen.”

“Can, or does?”

She shrugged. “Wormwood is fickle. It only makes you dream some of the time. Luck of the draw.”

Raising an eyebrow, he hailed the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having.” Then, turning in his seat so that he was facing Inanna, he added, “I never had a chance to properly introduce myself. I don’t technically have a name, but I’m called Pygar.”

His female counterpart was still watching from above. Inanna frowned, wondering what was going on.

“So, Pygar, what brings you over here to see me? You didn’t seem too welcoming when I came to visit you.”

“Paranoia,” he admitted. “We’ve… been caught breaking the rules once before.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “What exactly were you doing in there?”

His eyes darted, checking to see if anyone was watching, then he leaned toward her ear. “Plotting and planning. Faya and I want to get out of here. She suggested I talk to you, patch things up... and see if you could help us.”

There was no mistaking the cadence of his words. He meant escape.

“...Are you not able to leave on your own?” she asked, frowning. He had said their creator gave them free will as a curse. Did that mean they were bound to his service, unable to venture out?

“Technically, we can,” he explained. “But realistically, there’s no way. We would have nowhere to go. And our creator…”

He discreetly dipped his head toward someone behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing a dark-haired young man in a suit speaking to a Zeltron girl (clearly a patron, not a prostitute) with the ease and familiarity of old friends. She turned back to the changeling.

“That’s the man who created you?” she whispered incredulously. “Why, he looks like a little boy—he even still has baby fat.”

“He’s brilliant, but also a spoiled brat,” Pygar replied. “He’ll pursue any of his lost toys for the sake of his pride, to soothe his wounded vanity. No, we would have nowhere to hide from him… Nowhere except the edge of the galaxy.”

Well, it’s been a long time since a Hoole helped some rebels against an evil empire, she thought with initial good humor. But then she blanched at the image of the Sith, even just a small private armada or a handful of special agents, coming to Lao-mon in search of two fleeing Sithspawn.

Regret filled her. She had stoked their hopes after hearing the despair in Pygar’s voice as he spoke of their barren, sterile origins, the desire for belonging betrayed even in Faya’s cold gaze… but she could not risk bringing the wrath of a powerful Sith to her homeworld.

A third thought struck her.

“Wouldn’t it have been better to wait until we could leave and talk somewhere private—instead of discussing this here, within earshot of all these people, while he is standing only a few feet away?” she hissed.

Pygar clenched his jaw. “Employees aren’t supposed to leave with clients.”

“In a place like this, the rules are always flexible,” she retorted. “How could you be so naive?”

He scowled. “I’ve only been out of the test tube for a couple years. You’ll have to forgive my ignorance.”

“You must think I was born yesterday,” she retorted. “This is some kind of trick, isn’t it? A test of my loyalty, as a new employee of the Office of Imperial Truth?”

Pygar's eyes widened in shock, then in terror. “For s-someone who works for them, you sure don’t t-talk like a Sith,” he stammered.

It looked like he had been telling the truth. He really did want to leave, but perhaps his sister was another story. Glancing up at Faya once more, she thought she saw a cruel smile just barely curling the corners of the girl’s mouth. Evidently, someone was being set up—but was Inanna the target, or was it Pygar?

Inanna’s lip curled in disgust. This whole thing, this whole place, was so damned sleazy. High-class trash. It made her skin crawl just sitting there. If it weren’t for Paul, she never would’ve come. She regretted that decision now, too.

Come on, think. There must be some way to salvage this situation without incriminating anybody...

Her hand closed around her glass, and she flung what was left of her drink in Pygar’s face.

Somewhere nearby, an observer uttered a delighted exclamation of “Oh chit!” Stunned by the cold liquid, the changeling sputtered, wiping the booze on the back of his fists. He looked at her in total surprise, blinking rapidly as absinthe trickled down his face and into his eyes. He was either the finest actor of his generation, or its biggest fool. If the latter, she could only hope the poor boy learned from his mistakes here.

Slamming the empty cup back onto the counter, Inanna stood up. “I won't be wasting my time in this slimy whorehouse again,” she said, loudly and clearly, as if she'd been insulted. Then she turned to go, figuring she could hail a cab or wait for Paul outside. Anything but staying there.

As she headed for the stairway, out of the corner of her eye she could see Faya rushing down from the upper levels, her otherwise stoic face twitching with rage.

AMCO Reynalv Phibos Farah Lark Maiven Amur

 

[Obinmiux R'avfa]

​

To be in such an environment was daunting in its own way, to be introduced to a world beyond the grasp of Obinmiux's typical lifestyle left the young man lost and confused as he defaulted to merely observing oddities before him. He had nearly rejected the notion of attending such a privileged gathering, for he was not one to be referred to as anything akin to a socialite. Silence loomed over him, his eyes lost among the varied convocation as he attempted to navigate through the tight-knit masses. All of these faces, regardless of species, began to overwhelm the youth by sheer volume alone - eyes cast among him in some kind of unspoken judgement, voices clashing against one another in a dissonant cacophony that only served to bring Obinmiux anxiety and discomfort.

Having broken himself away from the main flock, the young man seated himself among a rather sparsely populated bar. A sigh escaped him before he was approached by whom could only be deduced to be the bartender, fiddling with a crystalline glass as he lightly caressed it with a pure white cloth, clearing it of any slight smudge or unsightly imperfection. All of it put Obinmiux in deep contemplation: why was he here? It only seemed as if anything he received in such an establishment would be a relegation, as he himself was of a lowly upbringing. "What can I get for you?" Caught off guard, Obinmiux looked to the bartender and simply shook his head without uttering a word; met with a shrug, the bartender carried on to cater to others along the table.

Brow slightly furrowed, the young man turned in his seat and continued to observe the others. He wasn't anything like them, nor would he believe any of them had lived a life similar to his own. All of it was quite foreign and unusual - feeling naked and exposed without his armor or helmet, very much disliking the sensation of being without protection amongst strangers; however, at a glance, Obinmiux did happen to recognize others bearing the aesthetic of the Sith Empire. Yet even still, he decided not to approach or acquaint himself.

Alone, uncertain, afraid.

AMCO | Reynalv Phibos | Farah | Lark | Maiven | Amur

 

[Lirka Ka]

The flashing lights and thudding excuses for music that passed in these clubs through Lirka back decades, awakening memories that to some extent had been burned away during her rebirth: days of spending bounties on cheap booze and brawling with anyone who dared to question the mightiness of her titles. They weren't as nice as this one, though she cared only about as much as the guests. They were always more fun in the sleazy and rundown establishments of the underworld. But it would do, she'd make it do.

With a mental state that now oozed stability and a rarely found nostalgia Lirka had taken to the gathering with an uncharacteristic glee. Was she playing politics? Indulging? Both? None? The Sephi had that obnoxious habit of being an enigma with her goals and ambitions. But at the very least she gave off the simple aura tonight, to party. To show everything that one of her rank should not be doing.

She dressed like one at least, Lirka had scorned finery for much of life: only truly embracing such things during her youthful life as Thustra's "dear princess", though this time she had made the obnoxiously gaudy blend of Sephi design and her own brutal philosophy that had left her wearing full battle armor. Twirling silks of a dozen colors hung from armor forged of a warm gold, gilded with twirling patterns of fine silvers and bizarre fluorescent metals. Sephi were artists, and they liked to make that horribly, awfully, disgustingly clear. Though like usual, the majority of her face was hidden: a face mask of the same golden material that showed only her mouth, keeping the same blank faced appearance of her normal helmet. The only show of the figure beneath the mass of metal and silk was blows in the garments that showed unnaturally smooth and tattooed flesh beneath for the briefest of seconds.

Raising her arms high, she decided that outside of being just metaphorically loud, she needed to be physically so:

"The party has arrived!"

She strode forward, every step the giant beast of a woman took oozed arrogance. Finding the nearest bar and sitting down, most more than willing to simply step out of her way.

"Drink me! Strongest you have!"


The bartender seemed shocked at the sheer upfront nature that the Moff gave out. If not simply trying to decipher the thick accent her voice held. Lirka turned to face the assembly within the club, always the show-woman, trying to gauge the crowd.

AMCO Reynalv Phibos Farah Lark Maiven Amur Obinmiux R'avfa

 

[Amur]

One mix drink was dispensed to the Sith and soon thereafter an empty glass took it's place. Amur finding it's taste just as intoxicating as it's alcohol content. She could feel that sweet dopamine fix flood her brain as a giant smile was underneath her helmet and a soft barely audible moan escape her lips. She needed more a whole lot more. She ordered a second drink and down it in no time before fully indulging she stopped herself. No need to blow it all immediately it was better to get some business done before going ham on the pleasure.

She scanned around the bar looking at all the people around her wondering what subject would be her target for the night. The chiss warrior who looked to have also indulged in the same vice she did? The cute red head dancing without a care in the word? The dark councilor already looked busy and then there was the woman who brought a sense of delight to the Sith when she saw her dump the glass she held and spitefully declare the place a whorehouse. Amur had to admit a small part of her cheered when she said that. Though the small snippets of conversation with her companion at the bar raised a few questions. Perhaps a opportunity though to be honest the Sith wasn't in the mood to do any charity work.

Her eyes gazed around and then landed on something at one of the emptier bars. A man, a cute one too who proved to be an adorable sight to observe. It was quite obvious just looking at him that he wasn't comfortable it practically radiated from every part of him. It was delicious! That was the thing about people there was always an air to them, and not the kind you could read in the force. This one was nervous and afraid still locked in some sort of shell, and well for Amur she decided this was a shell worth trying to break, who knows what kind of pearl resided inside.

Ordered a tall stout and made her way to the other bar where Obinmiux sat. Making her way through the crowd and briefly cutting through the dance floor she would take seat near Obinmiux but not next to him so he could have some space. She was about to break the ice when some Twit started screaming at the top of her lungs in some strange accent. Thankfully while disruptive, annoying and tempting Amur to start casting shade she decided to use this as her opener.

"I take it you're trying to get away from the crowd too?" She asked the shy apprentice, literally ten seconds ago it would have been a lie but thanks to certain Moff there was now a strong kernel of truth to it.

Obinmiux R'avfa AMCO Reynalv Phibos Farah Lark Maiven

 

[Nuff]

Nuff couldn't believe she actually managed to pull her little stunt off with her dad as she held an invitation to a high end club in New Kaas City on Dromund Kaas. Or so was her thoughts as she walked with a smile in the direction of the nightclub called Passion. Wearing her usual sith clothes as always wore when she wasn't home on in her sleeping quarter, had fortunately been made to shrug off light raining. With her double-bladed lightsaber dangling from her belt, she crossed the very pretty park, housing the entrance to the nightclub.

Out of pure luck, while looking around the park, her eyes fell on a certain officer she was very familiar with, causing her eyes to go wide. It was the officer of her Corvette who also had looked out for her, her whole life when her dad couldn't. She saw him also as a family, a sort of uncle for her and she knew he cared very much for her wellbeing. While she had a great fondness for Kevan and knew he only wanted what's best for her, right now she really wanted to visit this nightclub she had worked so hard on stealing her dad's invitation. While she couldn't hear what he was saying as he called for her, but she knew that Kevan along with two of her soldiers, flanking Kevan, was here to stop her from entering.

Quick like a starship, she darted towards the high-end nightclub with Officer Kevan and two soldiers chasing her, in hopes of getting to her, before she got in. With the help of the force, she enhanced her speed and got over to the bouncers in a flash, almost causing them to have a heart attack. Shoving the invitation in the bouncer's face, while tapping with both her feet for the man to hurry up, as she looked over her shoulder.

Looking down at the young Nautolan with a raised eyebrow, as he looked back at the invitation. Before the bouncer had time to denied the girl, ignited Nuff her lightsaber, knowing her dad often did that in certain situations. Seeing the red blade ignited, the bouncers raised their hands and the left one gave the invitation back to Nuff, "okay okay, go in. I'm not about to lose my life for this" said he one, giving Nuff back the invitation. With a wide cheerful smile, she signed "thank you!" and dashed in, just in time to see Officer Kevan and his two soldiers getting stopped by the bouncers.

"Wow wow wow, where do you think, you're going?" Asked the first one, blocking the Officer. "Let me through, you just let a 16-year-old girl into a damn Nightclub!" Scolded the officer, pointing to Nuff, doing a little squeal jump without the sound, turning around and went down the stairs with a big triumphantly smile across her lips.

Now she could finally see what these so call nightclubs were really about. Yea sure, the holonet had lots of information for her to read, but that wasn't the same as visiting one!

While Nuff couldn't hear to entranced music filling the nightclub, she could feel the vibrations in her feet and through her body. As she entered the cavernous space of the main floor of Passion, she was bombarded by colours and people, it was almost too much for the teenager. It was very clear for those that noticed her, that she was not a typical club goer or club goer at all. Looking all around her, she saw everything from scantily dressed people dancing, to other people dancing very close up at each other, rubbing up against each other, which Nuff couldn't understand why one would let another person so close.

As she went deeper into the nightclub, people started to give her a couple of looks, not expecting to see such a young girl in a night club like this. "What the kriff. Either there's actually a damn teenager looking lost. Or this Passion's Embrace is really getting to me" commented an officer, out to let loose with his buddies from the Academy. "No, there really is a teenager standing there! Those damn rich kids and their parent's money. She's probably Sith" grumbled one of the others, equally high on the drug.

Nuff, of course, heard nothing of what the men said as she just continued towards the tall bar. Jumping up on a chair, she looked at all the weird shapes and colours of bottles behind the bar. "Aren't you a little young to be in here?" Asked the Zeltron bartender, surprised to see the young Nautolan sitting by the bar, looking a bit taken back by everything.

Amur Obinmiux R'avfa AMCO Reynalv Phibos Farah Lark Maiven

 

[Obinmiux R'avfa]

Interacting with: Amur

As time went on, it appeared that the liveliness of the club doubled in spirit as newer faces mingled among the already uncomfortable capacity. Obinmiux's face took on an expression of slight annoyance as his attention was drawn towards an obnoxious presence - a figure dressed from head to toe in gaudy attire, all the while shouting and making a scene; Obinmiux couldn't look away from the unspeakable affront to his retinas, blinking a few times before shaking his head and forcing his gaze elsewhere about the party. There was so much life happening before the young man, yet he dared not to insert himself nor interject for he had nothing in terms of social expertise. Another sigh and yet another moment wasted sitting, that is until he found himself in the company of someone who was undeniably Sith, judging by their garb alone.

Perplexed as to why the woman attended such a congregation in full armor, Obinmiux simply gave a reaffirming nod to her query and gave a look of frustration. Whether it was permitted or not, the young man began to telepathically share his intended words with the woman in an attempt to better ease any awkwardness that would've come about from not doing anything. "You are correct in your assumption; however, you may find this a strange method of communication on my part. I cannot utter words with my tongue, so this is the best I can muster. And say, what warrants coming to this hellscape of odd folk in full gear?"

Obinmiux's expression eased into one of monotony, his gaze casually glancing back at the colorful nightmare lurking about. "That... that thing scares me."

AMCO | Nuff | Lirka Ka | Reynalv Phibos | Lark | Farah | Maiven

 

[Lark]

They're all so busy, so happy, from too much wine. For but a moment, Lark left the dance floor behind, taking a a moment to enjoy the beauty unfolding before him. So much unrestricted passion, it was everything that he had hoped to see. Something happened in that moment, something that might have horrible consequences in the future. Lark had always built upon his previous experiences, creating new personalities for every situation that he faced. But there was one thing that none of his personas had ever experienced: True peace. That was the one thing that he had always lacked, and the one thing he so desperately sought.

But now, he had found it. Irregardless of its authenticity, Lark experienced true peace. And now that he had, he could attribute it to any persona he wished. No matter how monstrous, no matter how childish. He knew what peace felt like. And in that horrible moment, Lark smiled so sweetly at Adrian, who spoke to the Zeltron woman. Thank you, Lark thought, sending the message to his dear friend. In truth, Lark had managed to detox the drugs from his system dangerously fast. He took a sip of wine, and spread that feeling of peace to everyone around him within the nightclub. So genuine were Lark's feelings, so earnestly he spread feelings of subtle tranquility. Tenderness and warmth cloaked him like the most comforting of blankets, no one was aware of the devilish wrath within his heart.

Even he forgot about it, sooner or later. So absolute was the suppression of certain emotions. But they were still there, lurking within him. But no one would ever know.

Yes, there was a genuine part of Lark that wished to dance and drink with all those around him. He wanted to bond with his allies, make connections he never would have dreamt of before. So he did. He danced with elegance unmatched, and told stories that resulted in rapturous laughter. Every bond he made was built on truth. Every moment of eye contact, an invitation was made. And he looked at everyone.

No soul was safe from him.

AMCO Farah Nuff Lirka Ka Maiven Reynalv Phibos Obinmiux R'avfa Amur Inanna Harth

 

[Inanna Harth]

The Shi’ido was leaving. Faya stalked after her, malice coiling in her heart like a venomous serpent. But with every step she took, the heat of her anger turned ashen, cooling until she was once more in control.

Her brother was still sitting in the same chair he had been in when the altercation took place. The bartender had given him napkins to wipe away the alcohol on his face. Now he spotted his sister, stood up and reached for her.

“Faya, wait—”

She ignored him. To her mind, it was his fault the Shi’ido had walked out. Yes, she had told him to approach the brunette in the revealing dress, the one who had followed them into the room, and ask for her help—moments before she told Adrian about the woman’s presence, knowing he would pursue her. A collision was imminent. A collision should have occurred.

But Adrian had delayed in order to chat with the Zeltron girl, and Pygar, with his clumsy attempts at persuasion, had offended Inanna.

Faya had played two separate hands, believing she would come out triumphant regardless of the results. Yet Inanna had not behaved as expected. Faya had created a situation in which Inanna could not win no matter what she chose, and the Shi’ido had decided not to choose at all, but to throw everything out with a single flick of her wrist and a splash of flung absinthe.

The sheer gall of it had infuriated the Sithspawn at first, but now she couldn’t help admiring it.

“We got lucky,” Pygar whispered. “She thinks it was all just a test of her loyalty. She doesn’t know.”

The tiniest crack manifested in Faya’s carefully composed facade. No matter how much she wanted to achieve the sense of belonging she craved and to gain the respect, if not the love, of her creator even if it meant crushing everyone in her path, she could not bring herself to trample her brother underfoot. Pygar, with his dreams of defection. The only reason the fool was still alive was because she had protected and placated him, even as he dragged her down with his stupid plans to escape, as if their lives were something out of a spy novel or an action holovid.

Of course, he was still a liability, a pathetic traitor. He had to be crushed. But let him be trampled by someone else’s foot. She could not bear to do it herself.

She kept going, pursuing the Shi’ido through the stairway and out into the stormy night.

Inanna was trying to hail a taxi, shielding her face from the rain with her free hand. She heard Faya’s footsteps splashing in a puddle behind her and turned around.

“What do you want?” she demanded. She didn’t fear the Sithspawn. She just didn’t want to act in any more of Passion’s plays.

Faya approached her cautiously. The rain soaked the girl through, making her look even smaller and frailer. Like a drowned albino mouse.

“I sent him to you on purpose,” she said. “I thought you were a spy, because of the way you talked to us. As if your homeworld was superior, as if it were beyond the Empire's reach.”

“And what if I was a spy?” Inanna retorted. “What would you have done then?”

“Both you and Pygar would have been ousted. If you were not a spy, you would have reported Pygar to the authorities—”

“I didn’t.”

“It is your duty as a citizen of the Empire—”

“I won’t.”

Faya glared at her from beneath dripping white hair. “You must.”

“Or you’ll oust me, hm?” Inanna sighed. “I don’t understand why it matters so much. Will your master really care if one of his creations goes astray?”

“He must.” Faya’s voice was hardly above a whisper. “He created us. We are his children.”

“Does he see you that way? Like a father does his children? Do you even know what that feels like?” Inanna shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. If Pygar wants to leave, let him go.”

“He knows too much,” Faya protested. “He’s been with us for long enough. He knows about our internal structure, how things work, who is in charge of what, where treasures are kept. We can’t let him go.”

“If he’s as stupid as he seems, you’d be better off without him.”

“He’s not as stupid as he seems,” Faya replied. “We are engineered to be intelligent. We are smarter than you.”

“No one is born with common sense, snow bunny. Your brother is only a few years old. He’s got a lot to learn.”

But Inanna could feel herself being sucked back into this issue again. What role would she play this time? Mediator? Judge? Executioner?

Behind Faya, Pygar emerged. His Zeltron guise was slipping, a sign of his compromised emotional state.

After glancing at him, Inanna took a step toward Faya. The girl shrank back on instinct, then glared up at her in defiance.

“I will report you for this,” she said.

“No, you won’t,” Inanna replied confidently. “Because you are a coward, or else you would’ve already reported him yourself.”

Pygar slowed down as he approached, glancing between the two women. He did not yet comprehend what was happening, or how he had been manipulated and deceived.

Once both the Sithspawn siblings were before her, Inanna lowered her voice. “If you truly serve your master, help Pygar escape, as he wishes to do. The Empire has no use for one such as him," she told Faya.

Then, turning to Pygar, she said, "When you get to Lao-mon, you have my permission to seek out the Hoole family and claim relation to them through me. How we are related won’t matter—they will accept you. We Shi’ido care for even our most distant relatives. Our blood is not thicker than water.”

Her words came out sounding like an insult directed at the Sithspawn’s lack of familial connections, but that was only because of her anger and annoyance at being dragged into this drama. The last thing she needed was to get involved in something like this. She was just beginning to grow used to the idea of working for the Sith...

Pygar's joy at the prospect of freedom was muddled by the realization that his sister would not be joining him in escape. Faya was still staring at Inanna, her arms wrapped around herself, water dripping down her pale skin. Yet Inanna could sense her begrudging assent… and the rush of relief that flooded her. The matter would be resolved without the shedding of blood or the hassle of legal paperwork. There was bitterness too, and fear. Adrian might be annoyed by the defection of one of his Sithspawn, especially one who was working for him directly. And if he ever found out Faya was involved in his escape…

“We are both sworn to secrecy, then,” Inanna remarked. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”

There was a long silence. At last, Faya raised her chin.

“Secrets profane the spirit. You have cursed me with a secret, Inanna Hoole. Now I am unclean. And so are you.”

Just then, a cab finally arrived. Biting her tongue, Inanna climbed into the speeder without another word and bid the driver take her home.

//Exit thread, for real this time. Idk man, I just got inspired with this one.

 

[Adriana Fortemps]

An unenthused sigh escaped the Echani's lips as she stepped out of her hover-limo into the bright lights of the new night club, Passion. Jorryn's mind was already fighting against her decision to come to this opening, the clubbing spirit that she had not too long ago dulled by the amount of work that becoming a knight-inquisitor had dumped on her plate. It wasn't every day that a Dark Councillor opened a fething night club however, and if even just her presence earned some favour than hopefully that would be enough.

Mostly she just hoped that Vaylin would come around soon enough. Misery loves company.

For now though, she would have to suffer through this event. Something that she immediately attempted to remedy as she passed through the doors of the venue, grabbing some pale blue concoction off a Zeltron server passing her by.

"Thank you dear." Her sardonic tone only being returned by a nice waft of pheromones mellowing the knight out somewhat, though Jorryn would rather retain most of her senses. It would be unfortunate if all she got out of this evening was a massive bill and an intense feeling of regret in her gut.

It didn't take long for the silver haired Sith to go and find a nice little corner for herself to enjoy, her attempt to enjoy whatever beverage she had grabbed being interrupted by many different types of individuals. Part of her wanted to feel flattered by the attention, but everytime more pheromones got passed onto her she could feel her mind beginning to fog up. So instead of counting down the minutes until her social obligations allowed her to leave this place, Jorryn instead decided to drift her amber eyes around the room to find anybody familiar to her. It came across as maybe not the best idea when Jorryn managed to pick out her favourite Zeltron, Farah , among the more scantily clad ones. Normally she would be ecstatic to find a familiar face among the more desperate club goer's, but seeing the doctor stand beside a waitress and devour all the cheese was an... interesting sight to say the least.

Still, Farah had been one of the more pleasant individuals that she had worked with. Jorr just hoped that there was a reason for the cheesemongering.

"Hey, Far!" The overly familiar nickname coming from either the pheromones of the club or Jorr's own desperation for a friend, really it didn't matter much. "How have you been?! Are you... enjoying yourself?" The Echani tried to hide the concern in her voice as best she could, but it wasn't exactly subtle.

 

[Amur]

Interacting with Obinmiux R'avfa
Keeping an eye on Nuff

Amur would causually lean back, cross her legs and sip her drink using her suit's emergency induction port as she made herself a captive audience for the fellow Sith, just watching him was turning to be a joy trying to decipher and read into his silence. She could sense quite a disdain from him towards the rowdy roided up monstrosity parading around the place, in that way they already seemed to share that right now but well 'listening' to him was also a treat. Not many have communicated to her using telepathy, and perhaps in a sober state she would feel that unnerving chill down her brain stem from the sudden intrusion, but instead there was merely a satisfying tickle to her mental ears as she entertained the broadcasted thoughts.

"...Hellscape of odd folk..." She was going to have save that turn of phrase for future use, it had a lovely ring to it in her mind. Still there was so many observations and a query to take in. From the just the reserved sense this person gave off, to his earned question of her own oddness wearing Armor and then there was his comment about the lovely moff that nearly elicited a hearty chuckle from Amur. She paused for second to give it some thought about how to address every point in this.

"Don't worry I don't mind the telepathy, even if I look positively mad from an outside perspective. To answer you're question I used to care about such frivolous things as appearances in the past, but after awhile I grew tired of it. All of it just felt like a game to present a facade, and you spend oh so much time obsessing and pondering over you're impression, who's eyes you'll attract and it just turns to be a tiring thing really. Why be fake and pretend I'm something different then this? It's much more liberating to just cut through it and skip the bantha crap."

Amur replied with a sense of confidence streaming through her, she meant every word of her spiel of the faking and standards of beauty but really it wasn't the whole truth despite being delivered with the confidence to sell it as that. It just a way to obfuscate the fact that she hated what stared back at her in the mirror when she woke up. It was much more comforting to the Sith to treat this armor as her skin.

"As for that 'thing'... She said with air quotes as she left a pause that would undoubtedly be eaten up by the sounds of whatever the hell Lirka was up to at this given moment. Amur would then lean a bit forward towards Obinmiux. "... It's loud, obnoxious and quite repulsive. I can see why you might fear that roided up peacock; however it's no different then you and I. A bit of observation will reveal that, though I'm more than happy to distract you from that thing instead if you wish."

In the background though as she spoke her eyes would notice upon the sight of something quite strange. Someone else dressed in Sith robes and not only that but it was a nautolan woman with very young features it seemed. Quite a few patrons seemed to be making note of her despite the odd bit of blissful ignorance that the Sith was putting peak display. Something odd and interesting to see and entertain while she stimulated herself even more with Obin.

 

[Nuff]

As the bartender asked the question, she received so reply as Nuff just sat there and looked at all those colourful and weirdly shaped bottles. "Uhm, hello?" Asked the Zeltron, thinking the girl didn't hear her the first time. But as her second question fell on deaf's ear, she stepped in front of Nuff, "are you okay, sweetie?" Asked the bartender, now a bit worried for the young girl, since she didn't reply back.

When the bartender stepped into the Nautolan's line of sight, Nuff just gave the lady a sweet smile and pointed to the wall behind the bartender. Raising an eyebrow, thinking this girl was very weird. With a raised eyebrow, she pointed at a colourful flask, seemingly to confirm what the young girl was asking for. When Nuff just nodded, the woman grabbed the flask and read the description on the bottle, just to be sure it wasn't anything strong for the poor kid.

She wasn't about to go against a Sith, even a young one, not part of her job description. Making a very colourful drink in the smallest glass the club had, Nuff's face lit up with a smile when she received the drink. The bartender just shook her head and headed over to some other patrons who wanted a drink. Sniffing a bit to the drink, Nuff was met with a sweet fruity smell with a hint of something the girl couldn't quite put it.

Sipping to the drink, Nuff let the content reside in her mouth for a bit, getting all the different flavour out of the sip, before letting the liquid roll down her throat. Sitting and enjoying her first-ever alcoholic drink, without her knowing it, she didn't notice Amur keeping her eye on her.