Thread: Masquerade [ Ft. Banks & November ]

If one were to think of the truly uncomfortable member of this gathering, it was easily dear Admiral Fedorre. Why he had to stand between a brick wall and an equally difficult to speak to user of the Force. He had to have made a quiet attempt at escaping these orders, the weasely sort usually did, yet here he was among the two dressed in common clothing. Why, they almost looked normal, and that in itself was damn near frightening. But as they all knew, their Supreme Leader had his reasons for everything he did. That didn't make it any less clear that none of them wished to be here. Her hands had found her sides, noticing now the pieces cut out just before the material of her skirt began, thankful at least for the length lightly dancing along the floor. It was hard enough to be dressed like this in the first place. So few, if any, of these men had seen her without her helmet, and now she stood with the thought of where she was going to put her- No guns. The amber hues of her eyes lifted now, narrowing critically, the seconds were counted in her head, because it would either be the Admiral or herself to speak first. Four seconds of her eyes staring harshly into his and the Admiral quickly recovered, At least, not your usual. Even that didn't sound promising, and it wasn't, being handed the small pistol and a small holster made for concealing. You do realize that by the time I get through this thing to this gun to shoot anything, he'll be dead, hm? Unfortunately, her words rang true if there were shots, though the First Order had done things quite differently in their training since the faulty troopers of the past. But clearly this mission was made to be one of calm nature, now finding she would have preferred using what little resources they had to simply attack the planet. Just get it over with. Leaning down carefully, the blonde began pulling the hem of her skirt up, swearing she heard a distant sound of a man inhaling from some dark corner to spy from. Revealing the boots made for combat and not necessarily the pretty, delicate things she had been given to add to this outfit, the woman was already a towering creature as it was, slipping the band of the holster up her leg, one hand holding the hem of the dress hiked while the other adjusted the gun. It looked like a toy against her thigh. The woman carefully let the skirt adjust itself over her shoes, it was then she noticed the outfit they had given the man she was deemed to protect. Well. . At least she didn't look like that. Raising an eyebrow softly, whether it was the belt or the fur, Phasma couldn't decide, but it almost triggered a laugh, deciding to save it for later, as this was already a tense situation. Yes? Her brow remained raised upon catching Ren inspecting her again, as now it was different than simply being a tall stormtrooper. Now she wasn't under the anonymous guise she found the most comfort in, even more so with her body clinging onto her femininity. Being a woman wasn't the problem, but the expectations that came behind it were. Moving toward the beige metal that had damn well better actually make it to the planet, Phasma had had enough of looking at the flighty eyes of the Admiral, already ready to be back in the closed off space of her chambers, or at least out of this damn outfit. Let's get this over with.