[OOM] Eiattu - Royal Apartments

[fighting_mad]

The night started out well enough.

Plourr mingled, and everything felt easier, somehow, than it had the last time she had been called on to host a state function. It felt-- less forced. She even had a halfway civil (if short) conversation with her mother-in-law, and most of the dignitaries whom she had to speak to were interesting and--

then her head of security pulled her aside and told her that Princess Leia Organa and Lieutenant Tycho Celchu had been kidnapped.

Kidnapped. From her world, her palace.

Fel, of all people, gets the information out of the traitor, Count Laabann. Moff Tavira has them. Plourr wants to go after them with the royal navy, with her people; she nearly does (because it's her planet, her guest, her friend). But Han Solo stops her in her tracks; points out that she's hosting this whole deal. She can't up and leave leave.

So in the end, Plourr has Laabann thrown into a cell and she goes back to the kriffing party.



It's hours later that she's curled up at one end of the sofa in the royal apartments (her apartments, she has to remind herself), barefoot and wearing shorts and a white undershirt. She is theoretically reading her datapad, but mostly staring into space.

Comments

[eiattu_pride]

He doesn't move yet.

"Yes?"

[fighting_mad]

"C'mon. Sit down." A very faint, tired quirk of a smile up at him and her hand doesn't move from his arm. "You're making me nervous."

[eiattu_pride]

He sighs.

"Okay, then."

[fighting_mad]

She leads him over to the sofa and pulls him down, laying a hand on his shoulder for a second. Then she's up again. "I could use a drink. You want something?" She pads into the kitchen.

[eiattu_pride]

"Depends what kind of drink you're talking about."

[fighting_mad]

Bottles clink as she peruses the (pitifully empty) liquor cabinet. "Looks like whiskey." She notes the fingerprints that her fingers leave in the dust on the bottle, as she closes the cabinet.

"Old whiskey," she says appreciatively, pulling down two glasses.

[eiattu_pride]

"Not bad."

Rial's sprawled over the sofa, now, face down in a pillow.

[fighting_mad]

She's back after a moment, a full glass of whiskey in each hand. She leans over the back of the sofa. "You're going to have a hard time drinking like that," she points out.

[eiattu_pride]

"We'll do it intravenously."

Because this is a solution!

[fighting_mad]

She laughs softly, reaching over him and setting one glass on the coffee table, within easy reach of his hand. "I don't have any needles." She leans there and takes a long drink, since, well, he's taking up the entire couch.



Plourr swallows and coughs, eyeing the glass. "Wow."

[eiattu_pride]

Rial perks up at that.

"It's good?"

[fighting_mad]

"It's strong," she rasps, taking another sip. Which means good, yes.

[eiattu_pride]

He sits up, and takes a large swallow.





"...wow."

[fighting_mad]

"Told you," she says, taking the opportunity to come around the opposite side of the sofa and steal a seat while he's otherwise occupied, folding long bare legs under herself.

[eiattu_pride]

"'s good."

Eyes the bottle with new respect.

[fighting_mad]

" 'S old," she says, leaning forward and turning the bottle toward herself so she can see the year.

Her eyebrows rise.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial takes another healthy swallow.

"Do I want to know?"

[fighting_mad]

"Let's put it this way," she says, gesturing with her glass. "Younger than you. Older than me."

[eiattu_pride]

"Oh."

"Oh."

He grins, and raises the glass. "Cheers."

[fighting_mad]

There's a soft, fond smile at him in response, its wearer happy to see that grin.

She remembers to look away.



Eventually.

[eiattu_pride]

He's watching her right back.

Doesn't say anything, not really wanting to spoil the moment.

[fighting_mad]

Plourr tips her glass to him and finishes it off. You're supposed to sip the good stuff, she knows, savor it, but she's never been very good at doing what she's supposed to do.

"I have missed you."



Sometimes, even her voice isn't good at doing what it's supposed to do. Stupid voice.

[eiattu_pride]

"Me too."

Rial finishes his glass as well, because screw being proper. He's thirsty.

[fighting_mad]

Uncertain smile at him and she holds out her hand for his glass, tilting her head at the bottle (closer to her than to him) on the coffee table.

[eiattu_pride]

He nods, and hands it over, letting his fingers lightly brush her own.