2008-01-16 - Clandestine Meeting

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Coruscant: Arthune Spire - Lobby
This wide round room has been paneled with a matte, off-white plasteel, and all around the perimeter where they run to the floor they have been set with a rich red colored wood trimmed with gold. The carpeting is thick and soft, a deep crimson in color. A heavy old couch of the same red wood as the trim sits with several chairs of similar construction, all cushioned off-white to match the walls. Across the lobby from these furnishings, a small silver fountain has been set. It spits water into a set of chimes that dangle overhead, making soft soothing music, day or night.
The room is lit from above a hanging chandelier that brings the room to life with its shifting yellow light. At one end, a pair of transparisteel doors look out onto the tree-lined parkway without. Across the lobby from these doors are the wood-paneled doors of the repulsorlift.
Players: 
Gumbo 
Celis Dissek 
Obvious exits:
[Wood Doors] into Repulsorlift. 
[Transparisteel Doors] into Ylaasin Parkway.
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The lobby is largely quiet--the occasional employee, a concierge here, a janitor there, is spotted, but other than that it is empty, save the man in the black suit seated on the red couch, perusing a datapad. He is wearing thick-rimmed spectacles and the sort of neat little mustache that gives him a clerical air (and also probably ensures that he does not go on very many dates), and his pale complexion makes it look as if he has not been outside for many a long day.
This is in stark contrast to the tanned, ugly and lumpy fellow who ambles in from the Parkway. Squinting and leering around he spits upon the ground and continues on his way. He moves closer to the red couch, until with a grunt he seats himself on the opposite end. Reaching for his comlink he holds it to his ear and sniffs.
"Dear, dear," says the first man, apparently to himself, adjusting his glasses nervously. "I can't have lost all his information!" He sets the datapad aside so that it is within reach of the unpleasant looking man, and opens up his briefcase and begins digging through its contents.
"Ahh, there you are," says the lumpy other fellow, barking into his comlink. "Well, wait... what's that? No, no, I only want two. Two I said!"
"Name... citizenship... affiliation... title..." The clerk shakes his head. "I can't have lost his papers! No proof of citizenship or ANYTHING. Oh dear, oh dear." He shakes his head. "Can't clear him without verification of anything like that..."
"What? Oh.. okay. Okay, calm down.. let's see... what are prices like on Alderaan? Is Mr Amarant looking into it? Well, he -is- a merchant, fool. What else would be doing? No, no, he's quite human, despite smelling like a.. wait, no, I'll tell you about mine in a moment..."
The lumpy man gets more and more agitated as he speaks, and the comlink is waved about between each sentence.
"No, no, no--oh." The clerk pauses and stares blankly at a datacard. "I know I'd put that in the datacard already. Someone's been funning me." He quickly seizes the datapad he was working on originally. He inputs some data, typing furiously.
The lumpy fellow chuckles and shakes his head, no doubt at some joke from the other end of the comlink. "That's good to know," he says and slaps his knee. "Well, what? Oh, ok.. I'll hold, sure..."
"There, now I've--oh, damn. Where did I put the -original- data?" The clerk buries his face in his hands. He continues to dig around in his briefcase. "I had it just now, I know I did."
The other man drums fingers idly upon the arm of the couch, whistling some tune other (perhaps following the hold music), until at length he breaks off.
"What?" he asks. "Oh, right, right. Sure. Well, let's see now... I still prefer dealing with humans. They're less.... what's that? No, no, Coruscant.. well of course! Why would... oh, I see. Well, you can tell him Gumbo Jareed is not happy. No sir, and he doesn't need an angry Republic Navy Quartermaster on his back."
The clerk breathes an apparent sigh of relief. "All finished. Now to finalize the reports..." he rises to his feet and gathers everything in his briefcase--only to have the contents tumble out onto the floor. He doesn't so much say anything as he simply emits a groan as he deflates over his briefcase, scrabbling for datacards. He appears not to have noticed several of them which have slid under the couch. He gathers them all up, forces them into his briefcase, and, clutching it to his chest, departs, muttering to himself.
Spending a few minutes longer talking into the comlink, the man apparently known as Gumbo Jareed finally finishes up his conversation, before he too rises, and heads off in the other direction.
Category:January 2008 RP Logs