Ask This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

[Cassian Graves]

Cantonica. Outside of the planet's popular destination capital, the Outer Rim world was considered unremarkable in comparison. Encompassed by a virtual barren wasteland, Canto Bight was obliged to shine bright, and shine bright it did. Situated on the coast of the largest artificial ocean in the galaxy, the capital was a favorite with species from every walk of life. Gamblers, tourists, dignitaries, smugglers, and racketeers. The city was a proverbial melting pot of species and economic classes, from wealthy entrepreneurs to two-bit swindlers looking to make a credit or two.

With a reputation that preceded itself, the desert metropolis had something to offer everyone that chose to walk its crowded streets. The businessman desperately in need of relaxation need only check in to the Coruscant Hotel, where he could watch the ebb and flow of the sea from the comfort of his balcony and listen to the waves roll peacefully onto the shores beneath. Tourists with deep pockets weren't forced to search high and low for excitement. Entertainment was quite literally on every corner, from exotic food to traveling shows and racetracks.

Canto Bight could make you or break you, if you let it, depending on your choices and your luck. Cities like this, large and thriving, tended to swallow people whole. People—important people—could go entirely unnoticed.

For the Senator of Onderon, this wasn't really a problem. The Zeltron was a long way from Onderon and the Free Worlds and didn't run the risk of being recognized this far out in the Outer Rim Territories. His political companion for the night's excursion, however, did run that risk. Emryc Thorne wasn't just any politician. His face was plastered on energy drink cans and billboards, after all.

The high-class establishments and luxurious entertainment of Canto Bight might have drawn the 'respectable' crowd, but tonight the two politicians would enjoy the company of the city's less than reputable citizens. They were bound for the city's lower levels, dark and secluded. Somewhere where the President of the ISC was less likely to be recognized.

Or maybe he'd come in disguise, with some over the top getup that included fake mustache and glasses. Cassian would have to wait and see. He glanced at his wrist chrono and waited.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc was amused by the invitation from the Onderon Senator. It would be the first time a Senator had invited him to partake in activities that were borderline illegal. His background in Hutt space flashed through his mind and all the fighting pits he had attended as a teen. He was a scrawny boy with his face pressed against the bars watching Wookiee and orcalon duke it out. It was only a matter of time before he was rudely shoved aside by someone bigger who wanted to take a better look. Those days felt like centuries ago now.

He found himself at the meeting point, glancing over to spot the Graves. The man was difficult to miss, always striking and handsome no matter what he wore. He clearly didn’t need his genetic perks to get his way. Emryc made his way over, dressed down more than any Senator had ever seen him. Along with his attire, he had a Ryloth Rancors hat on that didn’t make him instantly recognizable. However, he still wore his usual cologne.

“Interesting choice of event,” He said as he closed the distance towards the Senator. Being in a fighting ring meant he was actually not the largest person here by any means. Wookiee, orcolan, trandoshans and other tall species were milling about all around them.

“What am I calling you for the evening?” He asked with a grin, “I’m Rick,” He said, vaguely shrugging at the lack of creativity.

@llamallove

 

[Cassian Graves]

Waiting near the entrance, Cassian turned to face the familiar, unmistakable voice of Emryc Thorne. "I'm so glad you could make it. Truth be told, I was hoping you'd arrive in disguise—with a mustache and glasses—but I see that being out of your suit is disguise enough." It was true. Outside of the President's formal dress clothes, he was nearly unrecognizable. Cassian had never seen the President dressed so casually, not even on the Holonet. "The hat is a nice touch."

Blue eyes cast a cursory glance over their surroundings, the building itself shabby and decrepit, several decades behind on modern decorations and conveniences. The most apt description was that it was exactly the sort of place you'd expect to play host to an illicit fighting club. The room was packed full of spectators, most of their faces hidden behind oversized hats, masks, or the thick cloud of cigarra smoke that settled over the room like a cloud.

"I was hoping you would approve," Cassian replied, smiling casually. "The fighting ring grabbed my attention as a young teenager, and I never have been able to give up the hobby." Of course, he never had tried very hard. Or at all. for that matter. With a knowing smile, he added, "Alas, it is my only vice."

That was a lie, and they both knew it.

"An alias? I hadn't thought of that," the senator replied, clearly in thought. A good foot and a half shorter than the President of the ISC, the first name that came to mind was "Shorty" but that wouldn't do. "Let's go with Astley."

The Zeltron stepped to one side, gesturing a pink hand toward the center of the room. "Well, shall we? After you, Rick." Not only was the Senator of Onderon being polite, but he was putting his companion's size to good use. A 7'5" man would have no problem clearing a path through the crowd, and Cassian knew it.

@Sreeya

 

[Emryc Thorne]

Emryc only grinned at the thought of showing up with fake glasses and a mustache. He had sported a full beard and mustache when he was blind in that village, those days seeming like centuries ago. He eyed Cassian curiously, “Only watch as a hobby or participate too?” He asked. As a Teras Kasi practitioner, martial combat always held a close place in his heart. If he could, he would toss off his shirt and get into the fighting arena right then.

The half Sephi began to clear the path through the crowds to get closer to the fighting ring. He cast a sideways glance at Cassian, “I must be truly special for you to be so polite to me, Astley,” He said with a faint grin, “Normally your reputation places you in Lassiter’s league when it comes to throwing daggers,” It was clear Emryc was thoroughly amused.

He managed to find some seats near the front. Emryc barely sat down when a trandoshan came up from behind them. He placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder, “That’s my seat, asshole!” Emryc paused and thought fast, looking around at his ‘audience’. Everyone a criminal or scumbag of some sort.

There was a flash as Emryc’s elbow slammed to the side, directly into the face of the Trandoshan. Not only did he take a direct hit, but he toppled backwards over his seat. Emryc stood there staring, waiting to see if he got up to mouth off again. The Trandoshan gave him a fearful look before quietly slinking back to sit in the back, covering his jacked up and bleeding nose.

The half Sephi calmly sat down and stared ahead at the fighting, “You betting tonight?” He asked as if he, the ISC President, didn’t just completely deck a 6’5 lizard in the face.

@llamallove

 

[Cassian Graves]

"Occasionally," Cassian would admit, matching his companion's smile. Frankly, the Zeltron was surprised to see the Half-Sephi all smiles. The President typically sported the same stoic expression that was plastered across ISC currency, his countenance almost as motionless as the likeness, too.

If appearances were any indication, they were both in a good mood tonight. Although Cassian made it his business to be in a good mood whenever he rubbed elbows with political colleagues. Emryc Thorne was more than just another colleague—he was influential, a key player on the galaxy board.

"It was a quick way to make a few extra credits, something I was always in short supply of." He shrugged, smiling with a cheeky expression. "It was worth it, even if I did usually go home with a black eye. Nothing like a little healthy competition to build character."

Speaking of character. "You insult me, Rick. I'd like to think I'm in a higher league than Governor Lassiter." This comment was spoken in jest, but it was obvious that there was some sincerity laced into its delivery.

As expected, the Half-Sephi cleared a pathway through the room much easier than Cassian could have and even managed to land them front row seats. Although not without some resistance, namely an entitled Trandoshan with no sense of personal space.

"Listen, sleemo—" Cassian began, turning to face the Trandoshan just in time to see Emryc Thorne thrust his elbow into the rabble-rouser's face.

The Trandoshan stumbled backward, toppling over chairs and his own feet. Well, that solved that problem. It wasn't surprising to learn that the 6'9 Half-Sephi packed quite the punch, but it was odd to see the President of the ISC throw hands and wallop someone over a seat. Cassian was pleased.

"Nice one," he laughed, sitting down beside the President. "Maybe you should be the one in that ring tonight."

Directing his gaze toward the arena, he would answer the President's last question. "Believe it or not, I'm not ordinarily a betting man. At least, not monetarily," he would concede. Pointing toward the right of the arena, to a dark toned Zabrak, he would add, "But if I were—my money would be on the Zabrak."

@Sreeya