Jun. 24th, 2008

fighting_mad: (medium - yeah huh)
"Thank you, Zema," says the empress. She can be gracious, when she needs to be; when she wants to be. Zema's a sweet kid (kid, she's older than Plourr is), sharp, knows her shavit, gave the facts short and sweet -- just the way Plourr likes it. "We've got a lot to discuss. This is one hell of a lot of money, people; the contract's got to go to the right shipyard. For now, though--"

Plourr leans back in her chair at the informal table.

"Take five."

A ripple of chuckles moves through the assembled advisors and aides, and then the low rumble of conversation lurches to life.

Plourr turns in her chair, arm tossed casually across the back, and props a boot up on Rial's knee. "Kuat's sounding more and more like they're lagging behind in the competition."

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fighting_mad: (Default)
Plourr Estillo

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