Consolation Prize
Consolation Prize
Summary: Tyr'en and Zebulon exchange words, advice and a gift.
Date: 23-03-2011
Related Logs: TBD
Tyren Zebulon 
Iron Aegis Stronghold
Hangar and Quarters

Zebulon returned aboard his freighter earlier in the day. The big C-26 is set down nearby the largest of the hangar's repair apparatus, the burning ozone stench of a fusion torch at work pricking the nostrils of passersby. Zeb himself is visible perched on top of the ship's hull, near the edge.

Eirian for her part is just arriving back from her date and her bag is held upon her arm. Herald had given her instructions to show up with three sets of clothing and an adventure was had. But as she returns, the click of heels can be heard and what she wears is far from regular. The ruffled skirted dress falls long in the back and short in the front. White strap shoes are added and the dress hangs from her shoulders a bit, leaving a long line across the front of her chest and back. She is about to pass by when she looks up at the freighter and blinks, slowing, she smiles fully and calls up. "Hey there, intel!"

Zebulon exhales a held breath as he cuts the feed to the fusion torch and lets the pin cool as 'hey, Intel' is called. Drawing off the darkened goggles that protect him from blindness while at work the dingy spacer looks down to the hangar floor and spots the twi'lek in her heels and gown. He is silent a moment, before mustering speech. "How were the negotiations?" is asked, evenly.

"They went..swimmingly." She says and then motions him down. "Chandrila is quite beautiful when one takes the time to actually enjoy it." Eirian says and then tilts her head. "Going to come down?" She asks him. But to be honest, he was working and as she shifts her bag on her arm, she presses her hand to something inside of it. "Otherwise meet me when you are done." She is about to turn to go, thes hift of her skirt brushing her slender legs.

Zebulon draws and lets out a short breath at the answer and attached question, before shaking his head once and voicing woodenly, "I'll be down when I'm done. A while." White heels and the long back of a ruffled skirt hold his eye a moment before goggles are pulled back down and the spook wills himself back to work, re-igniting the fusion torch, and sending up a fresh shower of sparks from super-heated hull plating.

A hand lifts to give her parting with no words as she moves off towards the quarters afforded on the base. Eirian draws the bag to her and she rummages through it before her hand brushes over something. Violet eyes are cast back up at him and then forward once more before she disappears into the lift and away.

It is the better part of an hour before Zebulon decends, face scrubbed to scrape clear the shadowy residue of industry, but clothes still holding a trace of the sharp smell. Boots eventually take him into the lift, and larger complex thereafter. In the lift, he rubs one eye with the heel of a hand, before the doors open and he steps out, turning a short glance (and inquired word, should no sight be helpful) about for the presence of Tyr'en.

It is said that she had seen to the public showers and gone off to her room within the enlisted bunks. Meager and squat rooms that are bare and presentable in the fashion they need to be. Her door is closed, but the light is green indicating that someone is within.

Zebulon has drawn the tan leather gloves off of his hands and folded them over his belt before rapping his artificial knuckles on the paneling of the door with two rapid clanks. With the whir of a worn out servo, the arm is lowered to his side in the moments between knock and answer.

"Coming, just a second." It's muffled words and the shift of someone inside is the only sound before the door clicks and beeps - sliding open. Eirian stands there, changed out of her dress and heels to favor the uniform of her station. "Hey, intel." she says, a grin spreading a little before she backs up and waves him into the sparse and small quarters. Quite unlike the officers of Aegis. She turns, busy tying up her headpiece into place. "Didn't think you were one to get your hands dirty." she admits and lowers a hand to smooth the corner of her collar.

"What, and trust important work to the hands of amateurs?" Zebulon counter-thrusts, deadpan. Stepping into the spare quarters. He draws a breath, as if to speak, before holds his tongue, choosing a moment later: "Something bore discussion?" To occupy his hands, arms are crossed over his chest.

"Quite." She says, smirking at him and his resilient attitude towards 'amateurs'. Eirian then moves for her bag. "You should see the lakes …we went down into a submersible. The efforvesence in the plant and is beautiful." Her tone is cheery and she has her back to him as she digs for something. "We went sea cucumber fishing…dug right in the sand. Quite a challenge." She explains and then mutters something as she has to pull out some of her changes of clothes from her date, some sodden and wet by the looks of it. "Even went dancing afterward. I haven't been out in years.." she sighs and then ah-has!

With her back to his, the twi'lek misses the subtle impatience that marks Zeb's manner throughout the discussion of swimming and the lovliness of the planet, its idyllic lakes and wildlife. By the time the sodden clothing is drawn out, and her talk turns to dancing with a happy sigh, the stiff necked human mutters, "I thought I smelled wet dog."

She stops then, at his comment and gives him a dersive look, "Just because you are jealous, doesn't mean you need to deflect. Sheesh, I didn't just ask you here to offer up the entire date and then dismiss you." Eirian rolls her violet eyes and then half thinks about tossing the wet clothes at him. "You better be glad i am in a good mood." She says and as her lekku flick in their way, she turns, something wrapped in her hands, held across them. The distance is closed between them and she offers it to him. "Here…this is because I didn't when the bet and get you your encryption." Once he takes it, "Its not as good as what you wanted..but I figured a consolation gift was in order."

Zebulon looks annoyed at the accusation of jealousy, giving a dismissive sniff, before offering in a terse tone, "I'm *so* glad you enjoyed your vacation." As she flicks lekku and closes the distance, his eyes narrow, puzzled. With the hum of moving machinery, he raises his right arm to support the weight of the wrapped iten. "What do you mean?" is asked evenly. 'consolation gift'?

"I took that bet for your item you requested. I lost. Though I swear he cheated." She murmurs. Eirian doesn't linger on that thought then before she motions to the light feeling object in his hand. "So….since I couldn't get you that. This is all I could find to replace it. Granted, I think you find that it comes in handy." She looks from it to him. "Go on, open it, Intel or you going to make me do it?" She says, a brow arching over her violet eyes. Impatience leaking through an otherwise usually calm exterior.

"If that was the extent of his deception, we are all most fortunate," Zebulon grumbles flatly at talk of the shistavenan cheating on the bet. Narrow brown eyes go down to the long, light item and his flesh-and-blood left hand uncovers the 'consolation prize'. "….Hmm," he voices after a long silent moment. "Is this-" Shifting the scant weight of the thing into his left hand, he inspects the ornamentation closely, before glancing back up to the twi'lek, narrow regard questioning.

"I thought it proper to get you such a thing. Intel needs devices. A datadagger." She says. Eirian smiles at him slightly. "The artisian was rather good at changing a few things while I was out and about. Able to get it finished once I was headed back here." She explains. "Goes unnoticed to weapon scanners…because the blade is hidden….here." she reaches forward, guiding her slender fingers up along the inset curve of the device and when she presses, it slides free, clean and smooth at the end opposite the jewel. "But when closed.." She releases the button and it slides back in. "It looks like a pretty ornamentation and holds data for you." She says, looking down at the dagger still as she then taps the blue gem to open it to show the uplink.

Zebulon turns the short, narrow item in his hand to assist as Tyr'en displays the various functions, his own regard going over the device throughout the twi'lek's narration. After the blue gem is tapped, the datalink revealed, and the gem replaced, in passing a thumb over the ivory inlay, he notes, and traces with his thumbnail the small 'Z' engraved into the surface. "Functional.. Elegant." He is breifly silent, before drawing his eye up to meet hers and voicing, "Thank you." Anothe rmoment, and he adds, "I should not have spoken so sharply of your.. pet." To one who has become used to the minor variances in the typically stoic expression, the faint twist to the corner of his lip may reflect a wry intention.

That was a genuine reaction and it seems to please her as she meets his gaze. Tyr'en then laughs a little. "My pet? Don't have a collar for him ..yet." She adds before turning from him, going to take care of her wet clothes and allow him to linger if he likes. "Besides, I like to have pets that people don't expect. Furry ones are just too commonplace." That said, she casts a look over her shoulder for a moment before looking back to her work. "May want to go get cleaned up…pink." She says, his face still red from his scrubbing.

"I'll leave, before the twi'lek habit of providing too much information regarding the use of collars becomes awkward," Zebulon answers, dryly. The needling label of 'pink' draws a short, "Hmm. A nickname. Wonderful." A shake of his head as he turns toward the door, "When I no longer offend your delicate sensabilities, there are a few questions regarding your people I would like to have answered. They do not involve collars."

Her head turns slightly at his words and Tyr'en lifts a brow. "Of my people?" She is curious somewhat but she continues her work of sorting out her clothes. "Delicate sensabilities," Is said after with a faint snort. "Ask away anytime you like. I am sure I can answer or just tell you to get out." She muses. The veridian female shifts on her feet, guiding the soiled clothing over to a bin at the end of her bed. "Maybe you can put that dagger to good use and download some information as well. We are not some great secret." She states. For good reason. They have been used by other sentients for hundreds of years.

"I am well familiar with anything regarding twi'leks that common research can provide," Zebulon returns, a bit tersely. "What I am not able to discover so easily is why- for example- a twi'lek leader might take a slight of honor at being approached through channels which are not considered a strength of his house. Do you have any idea?"

"Depends on who it is…we are as diverse as humans, Intel." She says rather firmly. "We are not all the same." Tyr'en adds with a faint sense of distinction needed meeting with indignation. She for one, was not a slave or dancer. What most people think of when they think female twi'lek. Her arms remain crossed over her chest as she awaits a little more enlightenment.

Zebulon draws and releases a slow breath, before answering. "Tyy'sen, called Eson of the Maffi syndicate," he finally states, as plainly as he can. "He took exception to being contacted through.." having his security net sliced. "..Indirect means, rather than being directly approached by a stranger with a highly illegal proposition. Does this make sense to you?"

That causes her brow to lift and Tyr'en sits on the edge of her bed. "Aiming high it seems..yes I do. He may have delighted in your underhanded attempts once…but Tyy'sun has now become quite the 'prominent' merchant and well to do business owner. To contact him through those channels makes him legitimate. To seek underworld ways is to hinge on that old regime he used to have. Though he is VERY much still underworld - it is about appearances. Besides..he may not have taken well to you succeeding as you did." She smirks at him, violet eyes studyhing his features as lekku flick.

"Well, the message was hardly the sort that an upright businessman could entertain," Zebulon states, tone a curious mix of annoyance and amusement. "Hmm. Added to my gaffe in failing to properly use my lekku, I can understand the exception taken. I had not thought a private, covert meeting to be so fixed upon appearances," he notes, with a thoughtful frown.

"It is ALL about appearances.." Tyr'en says and then rises then, tilting her head as she takes a step closer. Her lekku flick rapidly in time and she seems to be communicating something. "You know how to read lek, don't you?" She asks faintly. Stepping into a pot with the Maffi was a big step for even the ISB agent. Eson was not a forgiving partner and would subtly drown you without you even knowing and then make what last minutes you had -VERY- painful. Worry even touches her eyes a little.

"I speak Ryl fluently," Zebulon answers, an uncertain note beneath his tone betraying his knowledge of a hole in the fluency. "And I am aware that some twi'lek use their.." a motion of his free right hand indicates Tyr's head-tails, accompanied by the mechanical undertone of the movement. "Appendages as a sort of sign language."

"They are called lekku…" She says for him. Tyr'en smirks and then shakes her head, "Not only knowing proper terminology of a twi'lek but learning how they accent their words with their headtails is crucial. It can give you early warnings, if not see a hidden conversation all together." She informs him. She reaches her hand up and pulls around her right lek. "This..this is i-chan." She lets it slide back behind her shoulder and pulls forth the other, "This is i-chun." She explains. "Together they are lekku….I am quite sure you know the anatomy. When we are worried, we will pull them back and that they are not damaged. If they are overly damaged, we become vegetables. it would be like someone cracking your head open. All twi'lek take pride in their lekku….to mark them or color them in any way shows status.."

"I know they're called lekku, I used the word a moment ago," Zebulon notes, defensively. "It's half the name of your race. Twi'lek: twin lekku." Yeah, he learned the language from a computer database, alright. Nodding once at the anatomical descriptions, he notes, "Yes, highly sensative, as well, correct?" Her later description of ornament, causes a slow breath to be drawn and a flat, "Ah," to be voiced. "Ornaments such as elaborate tattos, and leather straps binding them?"

"Well sometimes headdresses are done as…slaver ornamentation." She says, trying to keep it factual. But Tyr'en lifts her hand to her right lekku and brushes her fingers to it. "Yes, very VERY sensative. To have them tatooed…that is a show of strength and pride." She explains. "That is very painful." She winces a little at the thought of marring the headtails she has. "The Maffi will use lek accents to give commands to their people without someone like you knowing…" She draws a breath, "How often do you plan to work with Eson?"

"That is a second question-" Zebulon notes at Tyr's last, holding off answering the query for a moment. "Eson is a distinctly Corellian name, would that not also be demeaning?" But then he gets back to the immediate subject. "As often as is necessary. The meeting was quite successful, and mutually beneficial."

"I would suggest you learn how to read lek language as soon as possible then. Eson is a name, that is all and he would not find fault in its use. I would not draw that to his attention though." Tyr'ren warns before she releaes her i-chan and lets it slide back behind her. "I could teach you." She says. "That is if you have the patience for such things. I hear you have a penchant to fix things when you are too idle."

"I fix things when they require fixing," Zebulon returns with a dry note coloring his tone at Tyr'en's last. "That.. would be quite useful," he notes to the subject of learning the lek. "And for the record, I can be *very* patient. I tend not to be, true, but I *can* be."

"Then put on your patient cap, becaues learning won't be easy." She admits, watching him. Tyr'en turns away then, and flicks her lekku. "Tomorrow, if you have time. I will begin teaching you. Tonight, I am tired from dancing." She says. "I need to get my work done and then sleep." She is already gathering up some datapads, "Got a few new transmissions and I need to reconfigure a comsys satetllite in orbit. Sensor files need to be gone through too.." she lets out a sigh, "See, this is why I don't go on dates. I don't have the time." There is lamentation in her voice.

"Did you just insult me?" Zebulon prompts, deadpan at Tyr's lekku flick. "You can't tell, but I'm making a very rude gesture with my own lekku at the moment." A nod at her word of 'tomorrow', not reacting visibly as she again mentions dancing. "The Epsilon three satelite has already been brought up to operational specifications, by the way," he notes, before addressing her last words on the subject of why she doesn't go on dates. "And here I'd thought it was because you had standards."

Tyr'en is surprised by his knowledge of the satellite but she smirks a bit at him, "Until I see your lek…I won't believe a word of your make believe language." Her violet eyes study him and she shakes her head in amusement. "I do have standards. I just don't often lose at a bet like that. Besides, my standards are classified." She pauses, "Now wait a minute..why would you be looking up my standards?" she asks, trying to prod some fun at him.

"Surveillance is my business," Zebulon answers the look of surprise at his mention of the satelite. Her last effort to prod fun at him earns a small flourish of his left hand- still holding the elaborate datadagger, letting the previous answer stand on it's own.

A hand goes to her hip and Tyr'en waves him off. "Go on you, tomorrow." SHe pauses and then watches him carefully. "Thanks for the satellite." She intones, figuring it was him that had realigned its direction. She tucks the datapads and straightens them a little before she nods and turns, moving to put one away - the one the satellite was on. She flicks her lekku, the tips brushing her back and let him try to sort out what she said.