"Senator Veruna," said a voice like black velvet. At the end of the bar a devaronian woman greeted Aurelian. She stood where the bar met the wall on the opposite end from Merrick's entrance, say six or seven seats away from the nobleman. If there was seating at the bar which there was not. No one sat bar. The bar was where the work was done and the money collected, not for needing to keep an eye on customers. She was dressed in white, save for heels which were, except for the bottoms which were red as blood. She stood out as overdressed for this particular establishment. A busnsss woman in a room full of blue collars. Her outfit cost a months salary of every port worker here.
Her voice was smoky and seductive. She was red-skinned like most Devaronians and in her middle thirties. That voice though. It was ageless. "
Captain Del-Finn is looking forward to your discussion. May I show you to the lounge so you can conduct your business privately?" Oraura made a sweeping gesture toward a room near the entrance way. Oraura was no stranger to dealing with important men; she'd made a living servicing men of all sorts but that was before, when she was a different woman with a different name and a different life. She snapped her manicured fingers sharply gesturing for the bartender to expedite their retrieval of an unopened bottle of Corellian black label.
Her bloody heels clacked sharply on the floor puncturing the din of low conversations in the room as she led the young noble toward the private room. With a professional word and the polite suggestion that the man leave his security detail without, Oraura would excuse herself to collect Joran Del-Finn.
Joran Del-Finn…Captain Joran Del-Finn…Senator Captain Joran Del-Fin.
That still required getting used to
Joran Del-Finn sat in his dimly lit office, at the heavy dark wood desk, stooped over a glass of dark brown liquor, several datapads strewn haphazardly across the desk's face. An unlabeled bottle of that dark liquor, which stood three-quater full only this morning, now had less than an eighth remaining.
The door to his office opened with a soft hiss, and Oraura, his new senatorial aide, stepped inside.
She required some getting used to as well
He thought that could be quite the enjoyable experience. Oraura was nothing short of stunning. Her thick black hair was done in big curls, flowing past her shoulders, streaked with red. It reminded him of a lava flow.
"Oh, you are back here. That's good." Joran could hear the relief in her smoky voice.
"Why is it good that I'm here?" He asked, weary of the conversation already.
"You have a meeting and he's here."
"What meeting?" Joran asked as Oraura claimed his glass of booze for herself and sat across the desk from him.
"With Aurelian Veruna." She clairified.
Oh right,
"Is it boredom that drives you to jeopardize everything?" She asked, taking a drink from the glass that was once his. Her tone was conversational, as if she were merely curious but Joran could hear the concern she tried so hard to hide.
"What? The man is interested in fuel." Joran said playing dumb.
"That's what he says,"
"You don't believe him?"
"Of course not. He chairs internal affairs. He wants you to open your doors so he can have a poke around."
"You're the one who always says I need to spend more time on Naboo. Political allies and all that, right?"
Joran had returned to Naboo a handful of years ago and made the planet more than one of a handful of places to hole up between jobs, which is exactly what it was for decades as Joran lived his life aboard his ship The Perseverance.
"So you choose the senator most likely to jam up everything you have planned?"
Joran shrugged.
"Better he's my friend than my enemy."
"So I'm sure you'll be discussing your plans for Denon with your new friend."
Joran gave her a hard stare. Joran Del-Finn was a man that spent his life among some of the most dangerous beings one was like to find from one end of the galaxy to t'other. He had lived as Mando merc, a smuggler, a bounty hunter and several other less pleasant things beside. That was all to say that Joran knew how to express his displeasure with a look.
Oraura swallowed softly and managed a sheepish look of contrition, remembering who was in charge of this and any conversation between the two of them.
"Denon is not discussed with anyone who has no business knowing about my business there. That includes Aurelian Veruna and it includes you, it will not be said again, do you understand." His speech was slow and measured, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
"Well?" He asked expectantly, snapping out of his moment of menace.
"Well what?" She asked sharply.
"Your impression." Joran respected Oraura and her ability to get the measure of a man. It was in Joran's estimation her greatest talent, though to be fair he had not sampled all of the things she learned from her previous life. The woman had gone from working in a pleasure house on Denon to running the books for a spice dealer on Coruscant. Now she was the aid to the senator of Malastare
"Of the senator? I hardly shared a word with the man," she laughed dismissively. Joran did not responded except to merely look at the devaronian woman, suggesting he still expected an answer. "
Seems a right royal prick if you ask me. He has the idea that he's done us all a favor by being here. He will expect you to be grateful."
The private lounge door opened to the shape of Joran Del Finn. A massive man, six and half feet tall, nearly three hundred pounds, and made, it seemed entirely of muscle. Joran took an over exaggerated sniff of the air not unlike a reek before it charged. In his hand he held two fresh glasses and an unopened bottle of the dark unlabeled liquor.
"Right," the old smuggler said, exhaling. His tone was not exactly inviting. Cold was too strong a word but there was certainly some frost. His eyes passed over Aurelian as he looked around the room making a tutting sound with his tongue.
What hope does the Republic have when she is ruled by children?
Joran was unimpressed by the young senator. Joran had no doubt the man would as soon smile at you as pull out a blade, though Joran suspect the man was likely to get distracted by his reflection in the blade.
"Raining again is it?" Joran asked his gaze seemingly fixed on the stain glass windows to the street.
The question was posed to the room or maybe Joran was talking to himself, it was difficult to discern. From the moment he entered a room Joran was putting on a show. The nature of the show was dependent on the audience and the goal to be achieved. The audience today was a nobleman who was certain his own flatulence made any room he was in smell better. The goal was to make certain the man knew exactly who held the power. In this bar and in this city that was him, Joran Del-Finn.
Joran ran a finger down the window.
"I hope you stayed dry. Hate for you to get in my account." Joran now turned to fully face Aurelian.
"I was told you asked for a bottle of the black label," he clicked his tongue again tc tc tc tc
"that's a good bottle, mate. It impresses upon me that you may be a man of discerning taste."
Joran set the glasses down on the table top and filled them both half full of the mystery booze. He took a large swallow of his own glass. Aristocrat types spent so much time worrying about poison.
"That is the finest rye whiskey on the planet, probably the finest in all the republic, from crop grown here on Naboo, naturally sweetened with best figs credits could buy. Drink up tell me what you think, I'm hoping to have her on the market by months end. Drink and then we talk business, yeah?"
Aurelian Veruna
