Theme
Coruscant was always too dark. Level 1313, home of the illustrious Calamari Seafoods, was eternally shrouded in a cloak of night. Only the hideous, neon lights refracted across the polluted air provided a semblance of ambient light in the underground hovel that many called home. Frantz Lorsoni was now, unfortunately, one of those people. He remembered his meeting with his father, an irrelevant and loyal member of the Lorsoni clan, where he was ordered to the planet.
"Frantz, the family needs you to operate on Coruscant. There's a lotta Corellians there now, capiche? New business opportunities."
They had never shared an especially close relationship. Frantz had tried to protest, to find an excuse that let him stay on Corellia indefinitely. On Corellia, the family made life easy: Restaurants always had tables open for him, he could always find the best spice or wine in any city, and the beaches...che bella! Seas that stretched beyond the pale of imagination, fish so fresh it would slap your mother in the mouth, that was what Frantz had grown accustomed to.
Not this flash-frozen, vat-grown scaly cazzate. Frantz poked at the fish on his plate sadly, before taking a deep breath and biting. It was...surprisingly good. The chef must have made it special for him, he reasoned: Maybe the Lorsoni name did command some respect out here, after all. And the mushrooms, locally grown, were just divine in their sauce. Was that a hint of behot he tasted, too? Che figo!
He patted the corners of his mouth with a synthweave napkin, delicately, to avoid getting any sauce on his suit. He checked the time, anxiously: Today was an important day. It could serve as an official announcement of their presence on Coruscant, if they weren't careful. Everything had to be perfect. He glanced once more at the time, deciding to stave off his anxiety by filling out the daily crossword on his datapad.
@Eccles @Nor'baal
CALAMARI SEAFOOD
Coruscant was always too dark. Level 1313, home of the illustrious Calamari Seafoods, was eternally shrouded in a cloak of night. Only the hideous, neon lights refracted across the polluted air provided a semblance of ambient light in the underground hovel that many called home. Frantz Lorsoni was now, unfortunately, one of those people. He remembered his meeting with his father, an irrelevant and loyal member of the Lorsoni clan, where he was ordered to the planet.
"Frantz, the family needs you to operate on Coruscant. There's a lotta Corellians there now, capiche? New business opportunities."
They had never shared an especially close relationship. Frantz had tried to protest, to find an excuse that let him stay on Corellia indefinitely. On Corellia, the family made life easy: Restaurants always had tables open for him, he could always find the best spice or wine in any city, and the beaches...che bella! Seas that stretched beyond the pale of imagination, fish so fresh it would slap your mother in the mouth, that was what Frantz had grown accustomed to.
Not this flash-frozen, vat-grown scaly cazzate. Frantz poked at the fish on his plate sadly, before taking a deep breath and biting. It was...surprisingly good. The chef must have made it special for him, he reasoned: Maybe the Lorsoni name did command some respect out here, after all. And the mushrooms, locally grown, were just divine in their sauce. Was that a hint of behot he tasted, too? Che figo!
He patted the corners of his mouth with a synthweave napkin, delicately, to avoid getting any sauce on his suit. He checked the time, anxiously: Today was an important day. It could serve as an official announcement of their presence on Coruscant, if they weren't careful. Everything had to be perfect. He glanced once more at the time, deciding to stave off his anxiety by filling out the daily crossword on his datapad.
@Eccles @Nor'baal