Backroom Politics: Agressive Negotiations

The job of an Imperial spy had numerous drawbacks. It was dangerous, demanding, stressful, it had irregular working hours… But not a single spy could say that their profession lacked excitement. Well, maybe except for a few paper-pushers back in Dromund Kaas headquarters, but those weren’t real spies anyway so one could safely ignore their opinion. Those who were sent on actual missions usually had a wide variety of completely different assignments in their working schedule.

Darth Nyx could easily judge by her own experience. Just a week ago she was investigating smuggler activity on the major trade routes of the Sith Empire, and now she was sent to work undercover on a Republican world. Her current mission was a peculiar one, or at least Nyx hoped it will be. Not that she was particularly happy to babysit some senator, but this assignment was issued by Uncle Corvus himself. That fact alone was enough to convince Nyx that the Empire’s plans for this planet were much more important than it might have appeared at first. Moreover, she knew that at least one other agent was already present on the planet. A Spec Ops operative, or at least that’s what his dossier said. Not the guy Nyx would choose for this kind of job, but then again, if the Dark Council supervises this mission they wouldn’t send just anyone.

“Helena, darling, are you ready? The senators will be here any minute now!” A chubby middle-aged woman peeked into the room where the young Sith sat. Her face practically beamed with excitement.
“I need a bit more time, Missis Toldreyn. But I promise I’ll be ready.” Nyx finally snapped out of her thoughts and suddenly realized that she still has to complete her hairdo, and in just a couple of minutes no less! It took much of Nyx’s willpower not to panic, as she doubted that even the Force itself could help her now.
“That’s quite alright, my dear. I am just getting too anxious every time we get public as important as this.” The woman to whom Nyx referred to as Missis Toldreyn smiled warmly. “Anyway, I won’t disturb your preparations. Good luck out there!”

With another smile the older woman disappeared behind the door. Nyx just shook her head slightly and stared back into the mirror. For a moment she even considered forgetting about the hairdo and using a simple wig for this performance, but quickly perished the thought. Instead with a quiet groan she took a comb and set to work.

And meanwhile Nyx silently rehearsed her legend. Helena Mathuin, a young singer from Reena. Lacks either ambition or connections to be an Intergalactic star, but has enough talent to get by and performs mainly for wealthy audience in expensive cabarets. There was nothing hard about this particular role, albeit the objectives Nyx needed to complete were somewhat trickier. For now she had to establish contact with Threhad and observe his entourage. If possible, this contact had to be maintained for the duration of the mission. After all, it's much easier to protect the Senator when his supposed protector isn't driven away by security all the time.

“Entrance is clear. I repeat, the entrance is clear. How copy?” A hoarse voice that belonged to Argon Kymeri – a former soldier of the Republican Army – sounded from the comlink. It was almost immediately cut off by another.

“Cut the military crap, Kymeri!” Rhel Dorvin protested, as he always did when Argon resorted to military speech. “We all know that you served with the Army, no need to remind us every hour!”

“Up yours, greenhorn!” The second man snapped back at his offender, irritation clearly auidble his tone.

Once again, for what seemed to be the fifth time today, these two have gotten into a heated and pointless argument. In fact, they were rather fond of fighting each other whenever even the slightest opportunity presented itself. Like an old married couple, Conrad Falke thought, rubbing his forehead. This endless bickering was giving him a steady migraine, even though he had almost two month to get used to it. Two months… He could be training new recruits, sabotaging important targets deep behind Republic’s lines, but instead he was stuck here, playing the role of a glorified bodyguard. However a soldier had to do what his superiors told him. And Falke was not the man to question his orders.

One had to admit that the Ministry of Intelligence did a commendable job. Even Irlav Threhad himself had no idea just how many Imperial agents are watching and guiding his every step. One of those agents recommended an ‘old acquaintance of his’ to Threhad as a good security officer, thus effortlessly infiltrating Falke right into the senator’s closest environment. Due to his rather straightforward character, Conrad was a poor liar and was unlikely to handle a more complex cover. Thankfully, he just had to remain silent for the most part and do exactly what the Empire wanted him to – make sure Threhad’s security would handle any dangers.

At last a small motorcade which they were all a part of has reached its destination. The ‘Ivory Manor’ restaurant, a hot spot for the wealthier part of the planet’s populace, politicians mostly, and one of the numerous places Falke did not approve off. No security to speak off, easy access for would-be assassins and enough backdoors to get away after the assassination attempt, should one ever take place. The Colonel frowned disapprovingly, but unfortunately he had no say where his ‘boss’ spends his off-hours. So, as usual, he alighted from the aircar first, waited for other security guards to take their posts. There were seven in total, all dressed in neat suits, wearing glareshades even despite the late hour, and armed with heavy blaster pistols – in fact, standard-issue weapons were one of the few things Conrad liked about his current ‘job’ – plus ten more for Threhad’s senator friends, who joined him for the evening. In a minute the politicians themselves stepped out of their transport and strolled into the restraint, chattering endlessly as they walked. Falke nodded to his partners and fell in step beside Irlav, his eyes shifting from one window to another. Surprisingly enough, no snipers or gunmen sprang out of their hiding places to attack the senators. Conrad chuckled silently at the thought, but kept his wits about. Years of service in the Imperial Army have taught him never to drop his guard.

Fey'ira Tal

Fey'ira sat silently and inconspicuously at one of the farther tables of the 'Ivory Manor'. From her booth she could see almost the entire dining area as well as two different entrances. The steady sound of mealtime chat filled the air, wisps of conversations reaching her ears. Nothing important, all of it mindless babble as far was Fey'ira was concerned. She knew these kinds of people. Privileged and spoiled brats, born into platinum cradles with absolutely no idea how the honest yet poor families suffered from their insatiable greed. Many of them senators with no idea how the other half lived, pretending to serve the interests of the planet as a whole in the broken system of democracy. Yet if they were so beneficial, why were senators and politicians the most plentiful targets in the criminal underworld? If one wanted to go on a killing rampage, any Senate building was the perfect place to start. Whoever died would never be missed while those who remained and those who sought the vacant seat would devour the dead with slander and libel, always seeking to discredit their opponents while promoting their own agendas. Until the idea of a governing council was cast aside for the firm guidance of one informed individual, senators would always be around for Fey'ira to hunt.

When Kolban offered her the chance to assassinate Senator Threhad, she jumped at the opportunity. In her own personal opinion, Senators died the most entertaining deaths. So desperate to cling to their (almost always) ill-gotten goods and influence that they begged more pathetically and desperately than any other individuals Fey'ira had ever hunted. But perhaps she wasn't going to get to listen to that this time.

According to a last-minute communique from Kolban, a new bounty hunter named Nighthawk was being sent to assist with the assassination. Not only did this throw nearly all of Fey'ira's previously laid plans into the trash, there hadn't even been time to get in touch with Nighthawk before this restaurant opportunity came about. For now, she had to wait for Nighthawk to contact her so that a ramshackle plan could be formulated.

Her mind was torn from its dark brooding when the telltale signs of approaching dignity appeared in the doorway. Large men in dark formal wear and glareshades were escorting her target and his friends into the dining area, never straying to far from the senator though their gaze swept the entire crowd. Well now, there's a real man... she said when she caught sight of what appeared to be the Senator's head bodyguard. Fey'ira watched him accompanying the Senator with an involuntary sense of apprehension. This man definitely didn't seem the type to tangle with. She watched him with cool interest, and even winked when the man's eyes caught her gaze.

Breaking eye contact with the bodyguard, Fey'ira lifted her crystal glass and took a small sip of the expensive liquid, savoring the sweet taste. The only person missing from the party was Nighthawk now, so she lifted her eyes to shift from door to door as she waited.

Nyx was running out of time, she knew it painfully well. She could hear the commotion intensify even from her room backstage and quickly concluded that Senator Threhad has arrived already. “Damn politicians. They’re never late when you need them to be!” The young woman huffed, bringing a particularly unruly strand of her hair to heel with a wide stroke of tooth-comb. Appraising her own reflection in the mirrior, Nyx smiled with satisfaction. Usually she preferred shorter haircuts, but this time (mainly for disguise) she agreed to lengthen her hair artificially all the way to her shoulders. Despite being somewhat reluctant Nyx couldn’t deny that the result wasn’t as bad as she’d feared at first. Plus it went well with the crimson gown she wore for the evening. Unfortunately a bright flash of enthusiasm and anxiety that she could feel in the Force heralded Mrs. Toldreyn’s imminent arrival, which in turn meant that she has less than a minute to apply make-up. Well, she’s been in tougher spots…

“They are here!” The Ivory Manor’s manager announced triumphantly as she stormed into the room. And not a moment too soon! Nyx was in the process of putting on dark red lipstick.
“Almost done!” The Sith replied in an equally enthusiastic tone. She peered into the mirror again, apparently deciding against making any other changes to her looks.
“Oh, there is so much security, you won’t believe it, my dear. Do those senators really have to bring their cutthroats into my establishment?” Toldreyn was twaddling again, and frankly Nyx only listened to her with half an ear. She examined her attire just to make sure everything was in order, got up and made a fluid gesture towards the door.
“Shall we go? We shouldn’t keep the senators waiting.”
How the older woman managed to agree, apologize for talking too much and resume gibbering in less than three seconds Nyx would never know. But at least they made haste back to dining lounge.

It seemed that the Senator and his entourage have already taken their seats, as the noise slowly died down and was now reduced to distant murmurs, barely audible behind a soft, light-hearted melody musicians played. They didn’t sound half as bad either and couldn’t have been cheap. Nyx silently wondered just how much Missis Toldreyn spent on this night’s performance, but had to abandon the calculations when the lights were dimmed. She felt a light nudge, which of course was unnecessary, and hastily walked up the stairs and to the podium. She’d done it more times than she could remember, both as part of a mission and for her own amusement, but even so, her heart skipped a beat when first chords resounded across the lounge. A moment later Nyx found herself in both literal and metaphoric limelight. Surprisingly, all traces of uncertainty vanished in that very moment. “Showtime”, the young Sith though with a bright smile.

Unmistakably catching the moment, Nyx began to sing, softly at first, almost allowing herself to be lost in music:
“I know how to hurt,
I know how to heal,
I know what to show
And what to conceal.
I know when to talk
And I know when to touch
No one ever died from wanting too much.

It was a simple, but a pretty tune. Maybe it would fit well in a holomovie, Nyx smiled to herself, gradually rising her voice for the refrain. The scene also was a nice vantage point and she readily took this advantage to survey the crowd thoroughly. Luckily, Threhad and his friends were easy to spot, surrounded by a bunch of bodyguards and all that. Nyx noted his location and kept an eye on the Senator throughout the performance.

Irlav’s security guards were the first ones to enter the ‘Ivory Manor’, followed closely by Conrad and the senators themselves. Oblivious to the quiet whispers that followed in their wake, the politicians proceeded to their tables while their guards scanned the crowd for anything suspicious. But no one seemed to stand out among the wealthy bourgeois, except maybe for the Togruta whom Conrad spotted earlier. He eyed the female again, noted every little detail, but was unable to say what seemed so strange about her. Perhaps it was that piercing cold look she had.

“Hey, that hottie just winked at Gregor!” Dorvin gave a whistle, following the direction of Falke’s gaze. “And the poor bastard can’t even wink back! Sucks having one eye, eh, Gregor?”

“Unless you shut up this kriffing instant, Rhel, you’ll know exactly how it feels.” Falke replied without as much as a hint of jesting. “Keep your mind on the task at hand.”

Rhel grumbled something under his breath and grudgingly tramped to his designated post, other guards followed his example. Well aware of their employer’s desires, they have kept enough distance not to interfere with the performance, but remained close enough to reach the senators in time in case of emergency. Falke himself remained just a few meters away from Irlav’s table and continued to monitor the patrons. Finally the lights were turned off, save for a few spotlights, signaling the beginning of the performance.

“Another boring uneventful night, Conrad.” The Colonel thought with a grimace, shifting his gaze from the young singer on the stage to Senator Threhad and then back to the crowd. At least there was going to be entertainment this time.

Having decided this was not the time to be a Mandalorian, Nighthawk had changed out of his armor and it was currently stored on his ship. No, instead he was trotting around in a luxury suit and pants. He still had his pistol if he needed it, and he had folded up his other equipment into a belt which he had covered with his shirt (beskar, grenades, commnlink etc). Now all that was left was to rendezvous with his contact, apparently a Togruta named Feyira Tal, or however you said it.

Making his way out from the bathrooms, Nighthawk immediately spotted the senator. It was a rather dead giveaway being surrounded by a crowd of guards. Slightly more challenging was finding the Togruta, but he eventually managed. Striding towards her as if old friends, Nighthawk took a seat across from her.

"I'm sure you can figure out who I am and what i'm here for by yourself"

Nighthawk whispered as he flagged down a waiter and ordered some wine as the performance started.

Fey'ira Tal

Fey'ira smiled at the arrival but her expression became business-like when he "revealed" who he was. Fey'ira looked Nighthawk up and down, sizing up the man sitting before her. His clothes were fancy, but he wore them... awkwardly, as if he spent more time in battle armor than such civilian garb. Her partner was definitely a soldier, so the best plan for him would have to be basic.

"It's nice to meet you too, Nighthawk," she said coolly before taking another small sip of wine. "But I can handle straight-to-business types just as easily. That head bodyguard over there," she flicked her eyes towards Conrad, "Is going to be a big problem tonight. I'm fairly sure he's part of the Sith protection the report mentioned the good senator might have. Knowing that, I won't be able to handle this one the normal way. There's no seducing Imperial agents," she said knowingly. "Well, most of them at least," she added slyly. She paused in her briefing and waved away an approaching waiter. She waited until the coast was clear again before continuing once more.

"I can try to get the big guy away from the rest and give you a shot at the senator. I'm sure a Mandalorian like yourself could handle the other guards and kill the Senator. I'll do my best to keep the main threat from engaging you before Threhad is dead. After that, I sure hope you've got smoke grenades or something to give us some cover when we escape." She fixed Nighthawk with a serious stare. "And we ARE going to run. Kolban Massani was quite clear that we are to keep Imperial deaths at an absolute minimum," she said firmly. This was likely to be a strain on Nighthawk. She'd known of his reputation beforehand as a fearless and very capable warrior. She also knew a little something about the Mandalorians. From what she'd heard, they were never ones for backing down from a fight.

Looking away from her partner, Fey'ira took another small sip of wine and listened for a moment to the woman onstage singing about touching, wanting and showing. As she listened, she let out a small sigh, knowing it wasn't going to happen. Snapping her mind back to the present she said, "At least, that's all I've got here on the fly. Any plans from your end partner? Or would you like to get ahead with livening this little party up?"

Nighthawk chuckled. Yes, this one was all business. Not that he didn't enjoy that. Time was money, and money was profit. The more profit he had, the better. Flicking his eyes towards the bodyguard she pointed out, Nighthawk appraised him quickly and turned back just as much, not wishing to be noticed.

"Don't worry about that bodyguard. Common scraps like him I could take out with both hands tied behind my back hanging upside down from a lamppost. I'm a bit more worried about what happens after he is dead. We may have to do something a bit crazy, as I have a feeling the senator is not dumb enough to have only one guard. We should assume that there is another party of guards somewhere around here, whether outside or not."

Senator Threhad cast a weary eye around, disgruntled that his view of the restaurant was stunted by the veritable wall of dark fabric surrounding him. This was supposed to be a time of relaxing for him. Even if he was the leading supporter of the bid to join the Empire and an unfavorable man to pro-Republic citizens, Irlav had always thought of the Ivory Manor as his sanctuary from the more... distasteful aspects of society. In his mind he fumed at how his overzealous new security chief was robbing him of the pleasures of the Manor.

Turning to his security chief, Irlav spoke to him "Chief Gregor, I'm afraid I must demand that you move some of these guards away from me," he said with an undisguised air of one who is in authority. Knowing that a man such as Gregor would object vehemently to this decision, Irlav continued the moment Gregor opened his mouth, cutting him off. "Yes, perhaps I am a rather unfavorable person to certain members of Parliament, but I'm confident that your security can provide the same level of protection even if some men are standing further away at doorways or something." Once again, he waited until Gregor had just opened his mouth before continuing again. "In light of the sovereignty of our government, neither the Republic nor the Empire will be able to intervene in my affairs without provoking the wrath of the other or resulting in the people's minds being swayed against supporting the belligerent. Please Gregor, I'm rather good at gauging those around me and I must insist on a little air."

He turned away from his chief before he could reply. Clasping his hands together in front of him, Irlav rested his head on his fingers and closed his eyes, allowing the singer's sweet voice to carry his mind away from his irritation. Relaxation is all I want tonight, he thought to himself.

Conrad gave his ‘employer’ a piercing look, being denied his right to object, this was all that he could do. This Senator was a stubborn sod, and while he could, in theory, be persuaded to rethink his decision under normal circumstances, there was no way he would allow his authority to be challenged by a mere guard in front of other politicians. A disapproving frown crept onto the Colonel’s face as he waved the security away.

“Spread out.” Falke ordered via the communicator. “Make sure all entrances and exits are secured, but try to remain as close as possible.”

Ignoring the chorus of affirmatives, Conrad looked around in search of a suitable spot for himself, a spot that would be far enough from Irlav to ‘give him a little air’, but close enough to interfere in case of emergency. Fortunately, there was a free table nearby, and Falke immediately took advantage of that. Making himself as comfortable as the situation allowed, he resumed to literally – with the aid of his eye implant, of course – scan the hall for any oddities. His eyes returned to the Senator incessantly, but the latter appeared to be too busy enjoying the performance to notice his chief guard’s gaze. No one could blame him either; even a rugged veteran like Conrad could appreciate the singer’s talent. Alas, he had to keep his wits about and keep an eye on the surroundings, no matter how enticing the performer was.

From vantage point on the podium Nyx watched Senator Threhad’s exchange with one of his guards. Or was that a monologue perhaps? The Senator didn’t seem to give his security officer a chance to reply, and Nyx was too busy singing to actually harken to the conversation. Although given the guard’s reaction and his next actions, she could make a fair guess that Threhad wasn’t quite happy with a throng of security surrounding him. At the very least he seemed to be enjoying her singing, that was a good start.

But after a short respite, the music was finally building up to a climax, and Nyx had to follow suit, raising her voice once again. Then - a final dramatic chord resounding through the restaurant, and it was all over. Allowing herself a single moment of weakness, the young Sith gave into her vanity and eagerly (albeit not visibly so) gauged the audience’s reaction during the short-lived silence that followed the ending. She didn’t forget about her job though and, after giving a graceful bow, took the stage. She still had around ten or fifteen minutes until her next song and she intended to use that time to get closer to the senator.

On her way to the bar counter, Nyx made sure to glide past the senators and flash a fleeting smile at them, specifically addressing it to Threhad. After that she continued on her way as if nothing had happened, intending to enjoy a cocktail or two, maybe observe the target for a little longer if would be possible.

Fey'ira Tal

As the song continued, Fey‘ira kept one eye on the Senator and his guards. Before she could get up to make any kind of move, he had begun a conversation with his chief of security. He certainly is putting his chief in his place with that soliloquy of his, Fey’ira thought derisively. Despite her suspicions that the big man was an Imperial Agent, she sympathized with the anger he had to have been feeling at being spoken to the way he was. Had that pretentious son of a murglak tried to talk to her like that, she’d have shot him without a second thought.

With a sudden pang of excitement, Fey’ira watched as the Senator’s guards began to scatter. Even as she watched, the men spread out to the corners of the room or to stand silently in doorways. Standing up slowly, she spoke quietly to Nighthawk, “I’m going for him. Make your move when you’re ready.”

Relaxing her shoulders, she strode slowly yet confidently across the room, her eyes fixed on Conrad’s face as she did so. When she had come within arms reach, Conrad faced her and she looked him in the eye with a confident, almost smug look. “Hello, handsome,” she said in a sultry voice. “Normally when I come here it’s just a bunch of boring, rich old men who don’t know how to treat a lady. But you’ve caught my eye.” She traced one finger slowly across his chest, following the collar of his suit. Her eyes followed her finger for a while before she flicked her eyes back up into Conrad’s face and smiled slightly. “Now why might that be?” she asked as she drew her finger away.

As the young singer left the stage to a round of applause, Conrad couldn’t help but notice that she looked oddly familiar. Poor lighting made it hard to make out any particular details, but he was quite sure that he saw this girl before. Perhaps she performed here before? But no, Conrad would remember. Very odd indeed. Such coincidences rarely boded well and he decided to keep an eye on the singer.

However before he could proceed with this plan, a sound of soft footsteps attracted his attention. A Togruta female, the same Falke saw earlier, was walking towards him. Her manner suggested that she had a very specific objective in mind. Unfortunately for her, she was out of luck to night. First of all, being an average Imperial citizen, Conrad found interspecies relationships to be distasteful And of course he could not afford to get distracted from his mission.

“I am sorry, miss, but I am on duty.” He stated firmly, his tone bearing no real indication of regret. Looking past Fey’ira, he cast a quick glance at his charge, then glanced over his shoulder and scanned the hall, trying to find any trace of the suspicious performer.

Fey'ira Tal

Not to be deterred, Fey’ira only smiled her sultry smile again at Conrad’s initial refusal. Inwardly however, her mind was glowering at having been put off so casually by this guard. The noncommittal forcefullness of his refusal could only mean one or perhaps a combination of three things: either he was married - which Fey’ira found unlikely, or he was actually a high ranking Sith official - those who normally frowned on interspecies relationships, or he just wasn’t… interested in Fey’ira’s ‘type’. As that last thought occurred to her she leaned back from Conrad and crossed her arms. I bet if Nighthawk had taken my job this would have worked… she thought half joking, half serious.

“A man of commitment, huh?” she asked teasingly. “I like that. But come on,” she lowered her voice to a level that wouldn’t carry to the Senator. “Why stay and to protect such a charming guy, when you could spend some time with me?” She let her arms drop from her chest and placed her hands on her hips, swaying a little bit for emphasis. There we go, she thought with smug determination. If he’s not a Sith or interested in the other team, there’s no way he can resist that kind of invitation.

Conrad signed wearily, his one good eye shifting back to the Togruta woman. She was Forcedamn insistent, that’s for sure. Too proud to accept being denied? Or was there something else? Her last question sounded suspicious, and Falke’s brow frowned just slightly as he considered the possibilities. Regardless, he still was not going to allow himself to be distracted.

“It pays well.” The Colonel replied no louder than Fey’ira herself. “And I take my job seriously. Perhaps some other time, when I am not on the shift.” Hopefully, this would enough to get rid of the Togruta. She was quite a sight though, even for an alien, that Conrad would not deny. But again, exotic femme fatales weren’t his type.

Observing Senator Threhad and his merry collection of guards and politicians of varying importance was that much more pleasant with a glass of Alderaanian Viola ready at hand. The senators were in the middle of some lively discussion, and Nyx wished she could get closer to overhear the conversation. She could definitely learn something useful, even if they weren’t discussing local politics. However there was another event that caught her eye: Threhad’s head security officer was approached by some woman, whom Nyx immediately didn’t like.

“Now, what could she possibly want with him?” The young Sith wondered silently. She sipped her cocktail and took a closer look at the bodyguard. His stature and manner were that of a military man, and one with a long and bloody career if those scars were to be trusted. Another thing, his eye implant looked distinctly imperial. Now Nyx had little doubt that this man is the same operative who supposedly infiltrated Threhad’s entourage earlier. She needed to get in touch with him and soon. Of course that brought up the togruta problem. For all Nyx knew, this could be just a random patron who decided that she wanted to have an “adventure” this night. But it could also be a deliberate attempt to take the Senator’s bodyguard out of the picture. At least if Nyx was tasked with assassinating Threhad instead of protecting him, attempting to seduce this guy and lead him as far away as possible would be the first thing she’d do.

With that in mind, she decided that it’s better find another spot, closer this time. And with the corner of her eye, Nyx saw Mrs. Toldreyn approaching. She just didn’t need more reasons to move out. Taking her glass along, Nyx walked inconspicuously in the Senator’s general direction, taking care to mix with the crowd and remain unnoticed. All the while she kept a close eye on her supposed ally and his “admirer”. Something about this gave Nyx a very bad feeling.

Sipping his wine, Nighthawk cast a glance at the Togruta, watching her path up to the Senator. Finishing his wine, Nighthawk set it down and waved a waiter over. Paying the bill, Nighthawk calmly palmed a wrist dart into the palm of his hand, sliding it down his sleeve. The poison it was a fast acting one, immediately ready to be deployed even at something as simple as a handwave in the general direction. Straightening up as he thanked the waiter, Nighthawk spotted the singer moving towards the senator. Perfect. Theoretically he could merely wave his hand now, but he preferred to get a bit closer to the target. Letting the singer trail a bit ahead, Nighthawk started stalking walking closer to her, letting her get closer to the senator the closer he got, mingling with the crowd. Finally when she was merely a couple of meters away from the Senator, Nighthawk tapped her on the shoulder, smiling his most winning smile (which he luckily still had all his teeth left because of the helmet).

"Excuse me, Miss Mathuin, I surely loved your voice and your presence in the room, and I was wondering if perhaps you could sign something for me?"

Threhad had been watching Chief Gregor throughout his entire exchange with the woman. Based on his observation, the obvious purpose of the woman's presence was to spend some time enjoying his Chief. Having given the matter a moment's thought, he cleared his voice and called out, "Gregor, a word please."

As the big man approached, Threhad beckoned him closer. "My good man, I do appreciate your concern for my well-being, but just look at this fine woman," he gave Fey'ira a quick nod, taking a moment of his own to admire her beauty. "She's quite beautiful," he said simply. He smiled at Gregor and continued, "Perhaps this one time I can allow you to enjoy yourself the way I have tonight. Go ahead and dance with her. However, before you go I'd like you to call over a temporary replacement for yourself. Call two, if it makes you feel better." He remembered his earlier twinge claustrophobia and added quickly, "But please, no more than two."

Fey'ira Tal

Fey'ira had sauntered up behind Gregor and wrapped her arm around his own. As if it had been waiting for the right moment, the stage band struck up a tango that had just the right sound to it, hopeful and exciting. Fey'ira smiled and pulled Gregor towards the dance floor. Though she did know how to dance, Fey'ira was a little apprehensive at being periodically placed in such vulnerable positions as a tango called for while in the arms of a supposed enemy. She kept this from showing on her face, and resolved to pull out all the stops during their dance so as to keep 'Chief Gregor' on his toes.

As they assumed a spot on the floor, she spun to face him, taking his hand while wrapping the other around his shoulder. And with a flourish of both the music and her body, they began to dance. As they moved, Fey'ira slowly began to lose herself in the movements. She became more bold as they continued, but still held some back so as not to drive 'Gregor' away before her partner could do whatever he had planned to kill the Senator.

Apparently, Conrad has underestimated the Togruta’s resolve to get what she wanted, and the bloody Senator was all too happy to help her. She also was a lot stronger than she seemed, after all, dragging a ninety-something kilograms of unwilling Spec Ops soldier onto the dancing floor was no small feat. He only had a brief moment to call for those replacement guards. But be it as it may, Falke was taught to adapt and change his tactics, even if the ‘combat’ situation was as delicate as this one. Refusing to back down, he took the initiative into his own hands and assumed the leading role in this small dance of theirs. He tried to keep as close to his charge as possible, even though he had to struggle with Fey’ira’s attempts to decoy him deeper into the hall.

“I don’t believe we were properly introduced.” Conrad spoke, pulling the Togruta closer, as the rhythm demanded. “Kronin. Gregor Kronin.”

Picking her way through the crowd with little to no effort, Nyx finally found a spot from which she could safely observe both the Senator and his bodyguard. The latter was still trying to free himself from the clutches of that alien woman, to little avail it seemed. A moment later Threhad called him closer and the two exchanged some words, which Nyx again could not hear though she could certainly guess what it was all about. The Togruta didn’t waste any time either, and without hesitation snatched the security chief away.

Under normal circumstances Nyx would find this situation to be funny, but unfortunately that premonition she felt earlier only intensified, and she was taught to trust her instincts. The sounds of her favorite tango did little to soothe this anxiety and Nyx was already considering resorting to more active measures. Although before she could actually do anything, someone tapped her shoulder. She turned round, her eyebrow bending quizzically as a man whose name she didn’t yet know asked for her autograph, or at least that’s how Nyx understood his request.
“Great, another distraction…”The young Sith sighed inwardly, however she maintained the friendly façade and nodded with a slight smile. Even a dancing couple that spun past didn’t faze her. “Sure, I don’t see why not. Let’s just find a more suitable place where we won’t bother other patrons.”

With that she looked around, quickly sighting one of the few remaining free tables. It was a bit farther away from Senator Threhad than Nyx would prefer, but she hoped to wrap this up quickly and return to observation. Smiling at the man again and gesturing towards the table, she asked:
“That one looks suitable. Shall we?”

Nighthawk smiled again, bowing in acquiescence to Nyx as he let himself be led off. She was certainly smooth, this one. Almost to smooth, considering the company she was in, he would have thought her to be utterly nervous instead of cool, calm and distant. Perhaps some background training in something, or just a certain disposition could not be rules out however, and so Nighthawk was not immediately suspicious (or at least any more then he usually was).

As they reached the table, Nighthawk pulled his arm over to signal a waiter, straightening it while it was pointed at the senator, and managing to release the dart hidden in his sleeve at a near perfect moment, when the senator was in conversation, aiming of course, for the largest bulk on the senator, his chest, all in one smooth motion as he completed the 'wave' towards the waiter, turning his attention to the man.

"Yes, some wine for myself, and for you, my lady?"

Rolling up his sleeve as he thanked the waiter, Nighthawk indicated the forearm/under arm of his left arm.

"Please. And perhaps, after this is done, I might interest you in a dance?"

The poisoned blade arced, heading for its target as if in slow motion. But it seemed that the Force had something more in mind for Senator Threhad; one of his two bodyguards shifted over to inform the Senator of his recent observations, unknowingly placing himself directly between the knife at its target.

"Sir, I - " he began before being cut short with a short gasp. He reached one hand slowly behind him, his fingers just brushing the hilt of the blade in his back before his legs gave out. With a thud that was lost to the music and crowds, the unfortunate guard fell face first to the floor, dead.

The Senator, who had watched the guards last moments with an expression of confusion now stared in utter bewilderment at the dead man before him for a few seconds before his eyes caught sight of the hilt in his security's back. Leaping up in horror, Threhad cried out, "By the Force! Gregor! Security! Help me!" He reached out to his other bodyguard and attempted to hide behind him.

In a flash the situation changed from annoying to critical. Nyx’s “admirer” made a quick gesture to get the waiter’s attention. However at the moment his arm was pointing at Senator Threhad, a small object shot from underneath the sleeve, it was perhaps too fast for a normal human to see, but being a trained Sith, Nyx noticed the projectile immediately. Normally her first reaction would be to intervene, to stop this threat even at the risk of exposing herself. However something, be it intuition, shock or even the Force itself stopped her from action.

Her eye darted after the blade, which (to Nyx’s great relief) plunged into the back of an unlucky bodyguard who just leaned over to the Senator. Thankfully the assassin’s attention was now focused on the waiter and it was unlikely he’d manage to notice the direction of Nyx’s gaze. Still, she shifted a bit uncomfortably in her chair, exerting her will to maintain her calm. It took a lot of mental effort, but she forced the most charming of her smiles as the man in front of her spoke to the waiter.

Of course this couldn’t last much longer, and the young Sith’s reply was cut short when Threhad realized what has transpired just a moment ago. There was much shouting and running around, no doubt those closest to the Senator also noticed the dead body and within moment the whole restaurant was buzzing like a flock of frightened birds. On her part, Nyx pretended amazement and shock that quickly turned into an expression of horror. If anything, she’d try to make it exceedingly hard for the assassin to repeat his attempt.
“Wha… Is he dead?!” She exclaimed, eyes wide open in feigned fear. “What in Corellian Hells is going on?!”