Log:Hutts: It's not what we can do for you

Hutts: It's not what we can do for you

OOC Date: November 5, 2021 (Optional)
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Participants: Sumi Kora, Amal Jha, Tarq Najjic, Min Jodo, Jin Jodo, Xavier Harcourt, Aejin, Fshmaw and Reverberate as Chrouda The Hutt

Opulence beyond the beyond the ranges of excess, the grand central hall of the palace festooned with cloth of gold tapestries illustrating the millennia aged story of the grand history of the Hutts. The vast empire. The wealth. The outright invulnerability of the ancient and patient Greater Species of The Galaxy.

A pall of rich, sweet and spicy, smelling smoke permeates the entirety of the hall - the scent of varied narcotics, perfumes, and the cloying body powders of the entertainment creating a heady mixture of aromas that only allow the barest hint of the odor of hutt body oils to be detected. Not that anyone would comment. No. Not at all - t'would be most uncouth.

At the furthest end, on a grand sledge of stone and durasteel with bas reliefs of hutts of the past snaking their way along the edges rests Chrouda. Reclining on grand cushions of exotic silk and overstuffed to accommodate the tremendous bulk of the slug like creature that measures its' age in centuries. A quartet of dashade, muscular and clad so that gender is indeterminate; but they slowly massage the hutt with scented oils that slicken the flesh that shimmers brown and grey along its head and back, turning to chalky white along the chin and belly.

Slit pupil, purple eyes, look out upon the various sentients that fill the hall, serving slaves with trays carried in both hands, private guards in heavy armor and visible weapons, and periodically sliding to look to the tall, well dressed Muun that stands ever before and slightly to the right of his throne.

At a flick of a stubby, three fingered, hand the Muun nods to a pair of gamorreans who snort and grunt before drawing back on a rope that pulls a duranium rod back - releasing it to swing back and slam into a titanic bronzium gong that shakes boned and ground with the sonorous tone.

The passage of time takes with it many familiarities. Young faces turn old. Buildings break down and crumble. Empires rise and fall then rise again. New tech becomes obsolete. Newborns grow up and, if they're lucky, die grey and withered. Such is the cycle. Over and over again.

But being back in the Palace of Delight is almost like returning home: if home was a hazy fog of smells lorded over by a giant slug.

It has been quite a while since Xavier stood in the presence of a Hutt. This one in particular. The opulence is comforting in so far to show that Chrouda has been doing well for himself these past few decades. In no rush to approach the dias, Xavier is mingling somewhere in the middle area leaned up against a support column and adding some simple cigarette smoke to the fog.

Dark eyes follow the movement of those at the front and no matter how much he braces for that gong, it still causes the man to flinch. Damn. Gets him every time.

Although the pale Echani had, in the past, done work for the Hutts, she had never worked for this particular Hutt, nor, had she had any occasion to find herself within the Sanctuary. In Amal Jha's line of work, discretion was best. Perhaps in keeping with the old adage of 'begin as you mean to go on', she had entered the palace with no fanfare, and moved to find a place within the audience, such as it existed, footfalls quiet, expression measured. Should a serving tray be passed in her direction, it was silently waved away.

"Melodic," Min Jodo replies in a voice made husky by breath holding the smoke drawn from a lit white cigarra clutched between the first and second fingers of her right hand. The resonating, acoustic-thumping sound reverberates loud enough in the hall that she can feel it in her bones. It doesn't disturb her posture, leaned as it is with her right shoulder braced against the wall through the leather of the sleeve of her jacket. Her left leg is her weight support, with the right bent at the knee and twisted medial so the tip of her boot is on the lateral side of her left foot. The jacket is closed, but the hem is just to her hips and does nothing to hide the skin-like fit of her black trousers. The leather of her boots is muted rather than glossy.

She exhales a moment later, sending a rush of blue-grey smoke from between lightly pursed lips that rolls in and curls on itself as it drifts and dances into the air. It mixes with the rest, but the sweet smelling tabac is an added layer in her vicinity. Maybe it's effective at masking the pungence of Hutt body oil, because her nostrils don't flare at random increments. Her left arm is draped over the top of a blaster carbine slung from her right shoulder towards her left hip. The tension in the strap is enough that the weapon doesn't dangle. Only its diagonal angle suggests there's the slack necessary for the barrel to be trained forward when its lifted into a firing position, and only the trained eye would be able to discern that.

Min catches a passing slave wandering through the hall and beckons with her chin. When the near-human approaches, she snubs the cigarra out on the tray and drops the filter, forgotten. Like many of those gathered in the hall, Min wears the emblem of the Hutt Cartel, though the patch on her jacket is less distinct than some of the brands emblazoned onto the skin of the slaves wandering around. Personal chattel doesn't need to look as pretty as the skin they peddle in the strip clubs and on the street. Her right arm lowers, hand tucking into the crook created by how its twin is crossed across her waist.

There are gold tapestries. As a result that's where the aurodium-plated Mandalorian in the suit of Dreadfinder armor can be found. He stands before the rich and opulent fabric of one of the hanging banners as though he Aejin is intending to utilize that backdrop as some sort of environmental camouflage. He stands with a Guild rifle slung across his front, the butt of which supports his forearm while the palm of a gloved hand rests across the carbon-scored breastplate of his armor. The dark tinted visor of the Dreadfinder's high-tech helmet slowly shifts from left to right, taking over the veritable crowd of sychophants and hired guns (or both) present within the Hutt's court. For the moment Aejin remains motionless. He seems to be residing near one of the great chamber's walls, acting as a set piece to the background. It's a Mandalorian; it's entirely possible that the renowned culture of mercenaries, bounty hunters, and highly specialized hired guns is present to hear what sort of employment opportunities are on the table.

Emerging from a side room is a man with a gymnast's shoulders fully on display. He is dabbing his forehead with a cloth, which he then passes off to one of the slaves without really looking at him. Everything above his trousers is visible by virtue of a sheer, frilled black blouse closer to transparent than translucent. He straightens his tie and then walks at an easy saunter towards the center of the room, eyes roving the crowd. Min gets a small nod, as does Amal Jha, but it is to Xavier Harcourt's column that his steps take him.

• DONG* "Fancy - meeting - /you/ here. Tarq Najjic did not expect you." His voice is buttery, though he turns to see what the Hutt and his Muun majordomo are about to do. "So - much - pomp." The man is used to the combination of smells enough that his nose doesn't twitch much at the odors - but it still does, some, nostrils flaring. He tilts his head to the side.

A female in blue armor leans casually against a pair of half-dressed slaves occupying her flanks; one is Twi'Lek, beautiful and blue like the armor the Mando wore, the other is human, shorter with dark hair arranged fashionably with glittering accessories. Whether Sumi is here for an appointment with the Hutt Lord, or around for the sake of being on hand for quick creds to blast someone is not known. Regardless, she seems smitten, as much as a T-faced expressionless helmet can convey, with her company who fondle her various explosive laden bandoliers and holsters whispering sweet Huttese nothings into her audio receptors on the helmet, making it possible for Sumi to hear them given her RAGING tinnitus and all.

Jin Jodo is another Cartel mobster, though he isn't so much on guard duty as much as he's enjoying the benefits of his association. He occupies one of the booth seats with a vantage of the Hutt Lord presiding over this occasion. He has a drink, though it looks untouched, and a scented smoke that burns idly in a tray set on the table before him. The gong is enough to draw him from his internal thoughts and prompt him to regard the Hutt and wonder about the proceedings that follow. Jin stays quiet and respectful, appreciating the space he's kept to himself to people watch.

"His eternal and vast eminence; Chrouda the Hutt would convey his acknowledge of those who would be honoured to stand in his grand and magnanimous shadow!" the Muun announces in a reedy voice, arms spreading wide, robes splaying and even then looking like a child's toy in the presence of the Hutt - curled around itself the creature must easily span six meters, possibly more, from head to tip of the tail. Flabby, flat, arm extending to draw a wriggling, furry, mustelid looking creature from a snackquarium. Squeezing it slowly to draw out a plaintive, wailing screech of pain and terror that only seems to draw Chrouda's lips up into a terrible impression of a smile. Milky drool running down its chin at the sweep of a patchwork brown and green tongue across them.

"His Greatness has decreed that those who wish to petition for work may come forth and prove themselves that they are worthy of his passing attention." the Muun continues. The crunching that rises competes with the scream of the creature or seconds before one of those noises suddenly ceases while the hutt chews.

Guards and patrons, slaves and servers, do their level best to ignore the display or simply move about - time and exposure having inured them to such displays and the hutt leans back, shadows enveloping the wedge like head, leaving only the bored gazing eyes visible.

"It must be, too, known that His Grand Eminence has no tolerance for time wasting and that one should do so at their own risk. But the Prominent and August Chrouda the Hutt has also appreciation for being entertained. But he bids that all present needn't stop eating, nor enjoying themselves while others meet - for Chrouda, the Famed and Prominent is a generous lord and wishes all to know that he has no present need or whim for your disintegrations." the Muun then sweeps his arms towards the crowd while a Dug even more decadently clad in gold and silver threads and fingerless gloves of shimmering watery looking material and grand mustachios ambles into view to mount the sledge and climb onto a stool to whisper in the hutt's ear-hole.

"Let first petitioners approach!"

Taking one more drag of his cigarette, Xavier snuffs it out the usual way and then drops it on a slave's tray as they pass. Was that a food tray? A drink tray? It's a cig snub tray now, whatever it was. "Najjic. I could say the same, though--" Leaning forward a bit to look past Tarq, Xavier eyes the sideroom from whence the man had come "--a place called the Palace of Delight has your name written all over it, doesn't it?"

A good-natured grin goes with that quip followed by a nod towards the front where the gong is still reverberating. "Maybe not as much of a surprise as one may think. I've had some deals with this one in the past. We are but flashes in the pan when it comes to their lifespans, though. Doubt he'd remember." Xavier gives Tarq a slight nudge of his elbow. "Not sure one would want a Hutt remembering you past after a few years separation."

The long-winded annoucenment brings Xavier's words to a trailing silence; listening to the instructions as his arms cross over his chest. His voice lowers to regard Tarq again. "Waiting to see what mood he's in today."

Amal, who had been moving quietly through the gathered crowd, paused in her amble when the Muun made his pronouncement, and his announcement. There was a moment, when Amal seemed to give the Hutt due consideration. But she was far too far in the rear of the room to make space for herself at the place of presentation. And so, after a moment, she began to ford the sea of sentience, proceeding on towards the central dais.

The announcement for petitioners to approach results in a slow side-to-side shift of the Dreadfinder's aurodium-plated helmet. The dark tinted visor sweeps the chamber for a moment, as though watching for the first who will step forward and move to stand before Chrouda the Hutt. Finding none immediately, Aejin begins to move. The stun net launcher is released from its position and the slung weapon is permitted to fall aside. A hand lowers to his side, adjusting something near the utility belt that encompasses his waist. Then the Rattataki sheathed in the Dreadfinder armor begins to move, his steps confident but casual. He's without cloak or accessory to flutter in the non-existent breeze, so instead Aejin simply moves through the crowds with his helmet turning about slowly. Watchful of his surroundings and those within it. His right shoulder works, rolling up and forward, then back until it goes still again.

When Aejin finally arrives before Chrouda the Hutt, his helmet dips with a nod of acknowledgment paid before the Hutt. He is silent for a moment, the dark tinted visor shifts to regard the Muun majordomo, and then finally turns back to stare lifelessly ahead at the Hutt himself as the vocorder built within the helmet clicks to life, <"Your Excellence,"> the Mandalorian begins before he continues within his helmet tilting back ever so slightly, <"I am Aejin. A core member within the Bounty Hunters' Guild,"> he says before he concludes the introduction with an appreciative dip of his helmet, <"Your hospitality is inspiring">.

Then once again Aejin goes silent. His left hand resides with a thumb hooked into the bounds of the utility belt. Its opposite remains hanging seemingly at ease at his right side. Particularly close to his right thigh. Otherwise the Rattataki simply awaits the acknowledgment of the Hutt lord.

"If Hutt remembers you after many years," Tarq agrees when Xavier nudges him, "Must owe money, or wronged him." The Kuati twists his head from side to side, producing a satisfying-to-him popping noise. Hands behind his head, he stretches his shoulders out with similar gusto but no sound. His eyes wander over the sentients of all shapes and sizes, lingering longer on the fairer humanoids, including the two next to Sumi. He smiles and nods towards her, then sees Amal Jha making her way through the crowd. "Is good place to visit, if do not mind risk of entanglement in world - affairs. Have considered asking to be made official - emmissary, but-" He wiggles his hand back and forth. "Mixing business and pleasure, sometimes a mistake, yes?"

He falls silent as he watches Aejin approach the great host atop his cushioned sledge, listening in to the conversation. "Figures Mando would test waters first." His voice is quiet, but there is dark amusement. "Though would have expected one more /shiny/, and less golden, to be first in. Somewhat more likely to /survive/ bad mood." He tucks a thumb behind his belt and changes hands with his bag.

Sumi, and the two entertaining her, are not the only people in this particular section of the opulent palace. If one observed closely enough, they might spot the chain leash Sumi holds, its other end holding a captive by a shock collar. They dare not move for fear of evoking its shocking response and are left to stare at the passerby who regard the Mandalorian table and Sumi's captive with curiosity. Unlike Sumi, who is dressed for conflict, he wears only the fine clothing he was captured in and appears to be without a weapon, or dignity, to protect him from the judgmental stares he receives in passing. Wide eyes watch, pleading with anyone who sees him, to convince this Mandalorian to part with that leash..

Tarq Najjic's notice isn't one-sided. She spots the flamboyantly dressed man who nods in her direction and lifts her chin slightly in turn, though it's to someone else he makes his way. Min maintains her spot against the wall, observing the comings and goings of the varied passersby. The majordomo announces the point of the gathering and calls people forward to make their case for work. A sidelong glance towards a booth nearby leads her chin towards her shoulder, stressing the tendons in her neck to make a prominent appearance against otherwise soft skin. Her gaze flicks from there to Tarq and the companion he speaks with before winding up on Chrouda and an armored figure that approaches and announces himself. Min's hand withdraws itself from the nook it so recently sought out and her wrist flexes in, fingers curling until the tips are touching her palm. Her thumb brushes along the edge of one, where a hangnail juts up like a sharp thorn and threatens to catch. Her tongue clicks in her mouth.

The purple eyes of the hutt blink slowly before he speaks, the voice thunder and tectonic plate shifts, each word rolling like ocean surf with the bass notes that would set fine dinnerware to shaking, the Muun speaking seconds after Chrouda finishes.

"The Illustrious Chrouda acknowledges Aejin of the Bounty Hunters Guild and will listen to your request for the honor of serving him. Hunter - speak what it is that you seek to gain such favor? Would you track something that has earned His Most Gloriousness's ire? Or do you seek out other forms of service to aggrandize your existence for having the fortune to be chosen to act as a hand of His Greatness?"

The Muun backs away to his relegated position, to allow Chrouda full, unobstructed, view of Aejin. Another furry creature is lifted with painful slowness to be deposited in the hutt's mouth where it screeches and wriggles, caught between tongue and bite plate; allowed to wail in terror.

The dug, again, murmurs in the hutt's ear, earning a low thrumming sound from the cavernous depths of its chest.

Xavier's eyes sparkle with amusement, a wide and quite wry smile spreading across his bearded face. "Oh, I often mix business with pleasure, my friend. I would strong recommend it to anyone." Gaze moving away from the Mandalorian who so graciously tests the waters, Xavier scans the area. Many faces he doesn't recognize, to be sure. But there is one particular set of armour that catches just about every light source in this place.

"Speaking of pleasure and shiny armour," Xavier's voice rumbles to Tarq; head jerking in the direction where Sumi sits at her table with the escorts and... hm. While there are definitely plenty who prefer to be lead on a leash, it seems that particular man is not one of them. "Come. Let's say hello while we wait our turn." Pressing off from his column, Xavier leads shoulder-first into the crowd weaving towards Sumi's table.

"Good hunt, I assume?" A smirk to the nervous-looking man. "Or is this some new initiation?"

Silence hangs over Aejin is palpable, both during and following the words spoken by the Illustrious Chrouda and the Muun's subsequent translation. The dark tinted visor remains unwavering in the attention that resides upon Chrouda, his throne, and the immediate presence of the Hutt's retinue. That silence continues on even after the Muun's final question is asked. Only when the suspense has appropriately built does the vocorder click to life once again and Aejin's voice presents itself; calm, cool, and collected, <"If you want it tracked, I'll find it. You want it brought in, I'll ask whether you want it dead or alive. Everything else can be negotiated,"> and that seems as much of an answer that is necessary. At least per the opinion of the Mandalorian.

Tarq follows Xavier partway, then taps the other man on the elbow and heads in a different direction with a "Will return. Someone - you should /meet/." He turns towards wall where the woman with black hair, brown eyes, and a blaster carbine slung over her shoulder. "Min Jodo. Of all Hutt courts, this - is the one, yes?" He smiles slowly, the creases spreading like an infection. "Am sure is secure enough without you perched - on wall." He turns back to strut towards Sumi's table, beckoning with two fingers over his shoulder. "Come, wish to make introductions. If have not met yet, will soon. Other ... regulars."

Fshmaw's late, half-inebriated entrance is heralded by a number of stumbles, circuitous prat-falls and staggering. He lets the 'droid that follows him, primly, convey its master's most sincere apologies to the subjects of his physical comedy. 'So sorry...' and 'Deepest apologies...' ring out, all the while Fshmaw blinks and occasionally remembers to tuck or untuck his shirt. Sometimes both!

"Hoouhh hoouh hoouh hoouh..." each burst of the laugh causes the Dug, in such close proximity to the hutt's mouth, to lean back with all four hands clutching to the cushioned perch, less he go tumbling off of it - perhaps into the maw of the ancient hutt lord. Speaking again in a steady rockslide cadence that the Muun hangs on every syllable of what the ancient says.

"Then to prove your worthiness as a hunter to be called upon by His Most Exalted, Chrouda bids you retrieve his pet. Recently escaped from their pens that were under the protectorate of The Mighty Chrouda's former menagerie keeper." the muun gives a nervous look to a covered platter set close to where a servant can bring portions to the hutt.

A figure draped in robes with the snout of a garindan poking out offers over a puck similar, but much different than, those issued by the guild - a shaggy furred wookiee appearing in holographic display before the muun continues,

"Bring back this wayward possession and you will have earned his Grandnesses's favor." Chrouda's gaze moves away from Aejin, to the covered platter and a growling sound from the hutt's stomach issues.

"Is there a room on this moon that isn't a Hutt court?" Min's question is posed before her attention turns towards Tarq. "You have fun last night?" Question posed, her hand drops and her body straightens itself, right foot unhooking from its position and planting itself against the floor with a gentle scuff of the worn sole of the leather boot. Her body straightens and her right hand gestures by lifting, palm up, and motioning away from herself. "Lead the way." It's a trip she takes in silent stride, though her gaze does wander over to the Hutt in audience with the Bounty Hunter's guild member every few moments. The exchange is a triangle, with the majordomo serving as an intermediary even if all he is is a puppet spouting the whims and wishes of his master.

<"Good hunt?"> Sumi echoes but in the tune of a question. A glance toward her captive and subtle touch of the chain moves the leash and the man connected to it flinches and groans as the electric charge courses through him. <"Nah, I've had better. He barely put up a fight; and I like the ones who fight."> The man continues to flinch and shiver until finally, the shock subsides and he trembles weakly. Sumi up nods to Xavier, his reflection seen in the mirror-like visor of her helmet. <"What brings you here? Seeking to earn favor with the Hutt Lords?"> The human of the two females with Sumi presses their lips against the collar portion of her dinged-up blue beskar plating, lightly touching a spot in particular that shows some personality, a scar from a previous battle that hit hard enough to leave a mark. It's satisfying to Sumi how soft and delicately the female presses her lips to the scar on the armor; it prompts a shiver from the Mandalorian, which triggers the chain to move, and the man to get shocked again. The Twi'Lek stifles a laugh at his predicament.

The offered puck and the holo that sprouts from it is given a cold regard by the dark tinted visor of Aejin's helmet. The explanation presented by the Muun translator - and majordomo - is regarded with only a glance, before the Dreadfinder's helmet turns back to the puck. A nod is given and Aejin's left hand slips forward to accept it, his palm upward. Once the puck is provided, Aejin's helmet shifts back to regard Chrouda. A nod is given. Solemn. Then the vocorder clicks to life once more as the Mandalorian answers, <"Alive it is">. Then Aejin offers another dip of his helmet before he takes a step back, turns, and begins to make his way from the Sanctuary of Delight. It seems that the Mandalorian bounty hunter intends to waste little time in preparing for his latest assignment.

Amal, whose steps had, eventually, carried her towards the place where one was intended to present themselves, waited with endless patience, until she was given the invitation to speak. Once leave had been given, she stepped forward, crisply accented voice rising nearly above the murmur of conversation, and the clatter of serviceware and consumables. She held herself with an easy grace, the pristine white of her attire catching the tone and hue of whatever light had been chosen to illuminate the space where she was standing. When she spoke, she addressed the Hutt, disregarding the Muun who was serving as translator.

"Great Chrouda. I am Amal Jha. I have had the opportunity to work for your associates before, but never the good fortune to work for yourself. If service is required, I offer two avenues for your consideration. First, as a trader and transporter of goods. I offer both discretion and experience. I ask no questions about cargo, and full fill any contract." Amal allowed a beat of silence. "And while I have no doubt that you have a great number of skilled fighters in your stables, I offer my skills as a combatant, bodyguard, and enforcer of your will." Another beat of silence, "Should my services be required." And then Amal stepped back, a silent indication that what words she had come to speak had been offered.

Xavier watches the full display at Sumi's table with the kind of attention that has seen it before and it never gets old. Grabbing a chair from a nearby table, Xavier pulls it under him and sits down without a verbal invitation. Sumi didn't draw a weapon upon his approach: that was invitation enough.

The shivering man gets only a slight glance. Mainly to make sure he doesn't soil himself against the surge of electricity. "Come now, friend. I imagine everyone at this table has had worse than a little shock to the senses, mmm? Buck up." The twi'lek at Sumi's side gets a slight grin. The human gets the same. Ah, but they're not here to entertain him. "Looking to reconnect with an old employer." Accent on the 'old'. "Passes the days."

Xavier looks over his shoulder and raises a hand towards Tarq who appears to be approaching with someone new in tow. "Najjic. You know the infamous Sumi Kora, I can only assume." Introductions abound!

Jin Jodo is quiet and observing the crowd. It's not so much a duty is it is used to pass the time. He had no grand favor to seek with the great Hutt Lord; he was already employed by them! Much of the festivities in the palace was facilitated by the slaves bearing their brand though, so enforcers were needed to ensure the highest quality of service. For now, nothing called out to Jin with regards to needing adjustments. He just walked casually along one wall, then disappeared behind a door to see what was going on behind the scenes.

"Mmm. Some rooms on Nar Shaddaa do not /know/ they are Hutt's court, yes?" Tarq puts a finger by his nose and gives Min a knowing look before spreading his arm at the table with the Mandalorian, her twi'lek hangers-on, and the bearded 'human.' "Yes, Xavier, but know Sumi only /publicly/, so far, alas. /So/ sad," he adds in a singsong. "This is Min Jodo. Works for new manager at Twi'Lick. Met last night. Min, is Sumi Kora, bounty hunter. Xavier Harcourt, ne'er-do-well. Am sure will /all/ see each other much."

Then he tosses a dismissive hand at the well-dressed man in the shock collar. "And /this/ name does not matter." He smiles at the twi'leks next to Sumi. "And, you maybe know their names already, but Tarq Najjic does not." He gives them a small wave with only his fingers. He looks back over to center stage. "Ah. Amal Jha. She fights well. Beat this one," he says, hitting his thumb to his chest.

Slit pupil eyes fix on the echani, the only parts that move at first amid the continue cries of Chrouda's current entree, stopping with a short tightening of its mouth before it chews around more spoken word, the tone grumbling and disinterested before an arm is raised to sweep outward as if to encompass the galaxy at large.

"His Eminence, Lord Chrouda, decrees that presently he has enough bodyguards without seeing to test out another. But the road to such grandeur as to becoming a guard under His Most Vaunted Chrouda, can be started by showing your ability as a protector by guarding a precious cargo that His Grandness intends to have delivered to their most noble cousin." the Muun's arm sweeps towards Min and Jin, "Most like under the gaze of those already members of the Cartel." the indication sending a twi'lek scurrying, hustling towards the Jodos to deliver missives on flimsy.

The dug is whispering again, gaining the most miniscule of nods from the hutt whose attention leaves Amal and returns to the platter.

Amal bowed, in the way of her people, a graceful dip from the waist, with left hand across her abdomen, the right held behind her back. "As you wish, Great Chrouda." What the cargo was, why it needed protecting, and from whom she did not ask. The offer had been made, the offer had been accepted. Anything else was no longer on the table. Having presented herself and been seen, the pale woman faded back into the crowd.

"The girls know that one," Min inclines her head in the direction of the Mandalorian seated and flanked by two women. "And the manager of the club knows her by name. She's a frequent flyer. We thank you for the patronage." Though Min speaks to Tarq for most of it, her gaze is settled on the T-visored, armored figure, and her gratitude is expressed to the same. That attention wanes, slipping to the man with the beard that Tarq points out. "Never do well, huh? You should visit the casinos. We've got lots of chances for you to prove that wrong." The inherent humor in her voice is represented by a crooked grin touched up at the corner of her mouth. It lasts as long as it takes for the Twi'lek slave to reach her side and produce a flimsiplast.

"Excuse me." Min doesn't wait for acknowledgment. It's not the slave interrupting what she's doing, it's the opulent Hutt Lord, and Min doesn't make the girl wait. Flimsiplast taken, Min angles it up it herself and turns so that the details of it are not visible to those around her purely through adopting an angle away from the table. Eyes rising to the Hutt on the dais, Min nods in his direction and slips the flimsiplast into the pocket of her jacket. "It will be done, Your Grand Eminence. " Her attention briefly settles on the white-haired woman moving back into the crowd, but she does not follow. Instead, she turns back towards the table. "Business stops for no one."

Fshmaw pulls himself together enough to find a slot in line, taking his 3P0 by the shoulders and keeping it beside him, nodding to it. 'You and me, buddy.' his expression says.

The collared man at Sumi's table is wise enough not to speak in the Mandalorian's presence even when prompted to defend himself against the verbal jabs of both Xavier and Tarq. Alas, he remains quiet, further evidence of his inability to satisfy Sumi's needs.. to fight, that is. Sumi regards Xavier first, nodding her head to show she understood why he was here. <"I suppose we met after you were already established and such. I'd say I didn't know you had dealings with them, but that might imply that I knew anything about you before. I'm not surprised though..."> Sumi trails off as Tarq is nearer and introduced; then introduced further to Min Jodo. Min expresses gratitude for her patronage, and Sumi nods her head. Min seemed all business, but she made no comment on the matter because the cartel member was already addressing Xavier.

To Tarq, the two women at Sumi's side answered his unspoken request for names: The human saying "Clarise," and the Twi'Lek was, "Raka, master." Both females smiled at Tarq, seeming incapable of resisting the charm the man exuded. Sumi makes a subtle gesture for the girls to move to the new guests at her table, and they rise and walk closer to Tarq and Xavier; Sumi didn't mind sharing.

"We've still quite a bit of catching up to do," Xavier nods to Sumi. "Before and after, yes." Rising from the seat he only just took, Xavier extends a hand towards Min. "Well met," is offered to the woman and he certainly looks like he is about to say something else when an attendant of Sir Hutte claps him roughly on the shoulder. That's all the hint Xavier needs. "Ah... to be continued. If you will excuse me a moment, ladies and gentleman." The twi'lek approaching him with the swaying hips earns a wider grin. "Just a moment."

Exiting the sphere of the table, Xavier makes it way through the throng and steps out into the open area in front of Chrouda. Approaching the dias, Xavier genuflects before the mighty slug and his entourage. "Most Exalted Lord Chrouda. I am Xavier Harcourt." The name might be familiar. Or maybe the Hutt has deemed thirty years long enough to write someone off.

The dark-haired man doesn't stop to ponder either; continuing to speak in Huttese and hearing it translated back towards the room. "It has been the utmost of pleasures to be in your Venerable Presence." One can hear the capitalization. "We have, in the past, shared a mutually lucrative business relationship. I have served as a suppressor, a warning, a consequence to any whom have balked against your will. It is with great humility that I offer such services again. Should the need arise."

A slow blink, a flick of the angular tail tip before the cavernous mouth opens, "Haaaaahhhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrrcoooooouuuurrrrrrrrt..." the sound a growl and a yawn in one. Chrouda stares again for a long time, before it begins to speak again in long baritone speech that pauses as though the hutt were growing bored with the prospect of chatter before beginning again with a relieved look from both the dug and the Muun.

"His Excellency, Lord Chrouda acknowledges that Xavier Harcourt is a long lived creature, for one of the lesser races and recalls, vaguely, of some services during his great and exemplary life. Services rendered were likely done with enough satisfactory work that you still exist and are not incorporated somewhere among His Great Magnificence's collections. But as the Echani has offered service, you too can be tested and will report to the Jodo siblings for the work they will be doing at the demands of Lord Chrouda. If you have provided appreciable service, then further work may be considered in the future."

The muun looks over his shoulder at the hutt who simply gives a slight opening of his mouth, tongue sweeping across his lips mixed with milky drool and blood from its meal so far.

The Kuati slips over to Sumi's couch and takes the weight off his legs. "Clarise? Raka? Tarq Najjic." He pats his leg, and Clarise sits on his lap, putting an arm behind his shoulders and curling her legs up next to him. He strokes her back. "Too generous, Sumi Kora." And he looks back at her prisoner, then back up to the T-shaped visor that passes for eyes. "Good fortune - with our host."

He reaches out with his foot to kick Xavier's old chair out a bit and extends his hand in a lazy point at it. "Raka? Will like seeing you wait for him as he returns." Xavier or Tarq? Maybe both. Then he turns his attention to Clarise's neck, tucking his head under her chin while the business of court proceeds.

Sumi does not pardon herself from the table she's at, she just rises up and yanks on the chain using the rod in her hand to beckon the male, the one she's holding captive, to her. The collar does not express a shock from it this time, but he seems enthusiastic to move where she indicates. Her path to the dais of Lord Chrouda is taken leisurely, the heavy bootfalls from her steps yielding a soft 'CHIIING---CHIIING' noise. Most sentients part the way for her, and when she's before the great Hutt, the Mandalorian yanks her acquisition and /forces/ them to trip, falling into a bow that was either intended or surprisingly apropos.

Sumi dips her head respectfully, never taking her eyes from the Hutt and their entourage, then straightens, hands resting in front of her to give some relief to the guards charged with watching over the Hutt.

<"Noble and powerful Lord Chrouda; I dare not seek a boon from your court. I offer a gift. You called for entertainment!"> She said, her voice rising and hand extending with her arm to gesture to the acquisition that stays bowed before the Hutt Lord. <"I give you entertainment. The songs this one sings will prove most valuable.. most /profitable./ They say there is one thing in this galaxy more lucrative than creds."> Sumi steps forward and props her heavy boot upon the back of her captive, the boot making a loud 'CHIING' noise just before she forced the males face cheek first against the floor before Lord Chrouda. This position has Sumi leaning forward, her mirror-like visor showing the Hutt Lord its own magnificent reflection!

<"Information.">

Leaning back, she straightens yet keeps her booted foot on the male's back. <"Shall I regale you with the song I heard this one sing, Lord Chrouda?">

True to saying, business proceeds. Min moves to the edge of the table that rotates occupants, for now only hosting Tarq, Sumi, and the two slaves encouraged to provide entertainment at the behest of the Mandalorian. The latter leaves and Min watches her go, eyebrows hiked briefly and for reasons known only to her. Unlike the Gamorreans and the other guards occupying the space, Min seems to feel no need to keep her hands on the blaster around her torso. Aside from the barrel serving as a resting place for her left arm, it is ignored in favor of her right hand reaching back to brace against the table in support of a subtle lean backwards. She doesn't sit on the edge so much as leans the base of her spine against the sturdy piece of furniture.

Like almost every eye in the court, Min's gaze rests on the unfolding exchange between Sumi Kora and Chrouda the Hutt. And the collared, leashed prisoner she's brought with her.

Xavier can smell his name from several feet away and has learned long ago not to inhale when any Hutt is speaking. He only rises when Chrouda has finished speaking and as the majordomo is still translating. At the end of the speech, Xavier offers a deep bow complete with a sweeping motion of his arm. "Still as gracious and honourable as ever, Lord Chrouda. You've my many thanks." One more translation for the room and Xavier sinks back into the crowd; passing Sumi on the way.

There's a smirk on his lips after they do so.

Returning to the table, Xavier finds the sapphire twi'lek waiting patiently for him and the human engaged with Tarq. "Ah, how lovely indeed. Come, my dear." Extending a hand to her, Xavier guides her out of the chair, takes the seat, then pulls her into his lap. "It would seem," he offers to Min as a large hand strokes along a lekku, "that we will be working in close proximity very soon. I look forward to it."

Sumi's declaration in front of the Hutt pulls Xavier's head up, craning his neck to watch with curiousity. As a man that deals in information... very intrigued indeed."

Having presented herself, been heard, and an answer given, Amal had long since moved back into the milling crowd. She did, now, take a glass of some passing fancy, though she held it lightly in hand, and if she sipped what was on offer it was only lightly, or not at all. Food and drink were ample and on offer, but they were hardly the most engaging entertainments of the night, and soon enough, Amal had found a place to wait, her attention returning to the Hutt and the bounty hunter currently standing before him.

The Muun backs away when the 'gift' is pushed into place and Chrouda's form looms forward enough for a thin shaft of light, gray and white flesh glistening in the illumination and the glazed look in the eye washes momentarily with interest for what has been presented. Reaching for the snackquarium again to consume another of the furry mustelids with a high pitched shrill and crunch before the hutt leans back, gaze to the muun,

"Sumi Kora, of the Bounty Hunters Guild; you have earned the inquisitiveness of His Majestic Grand Chrouda." the muun turns to look at the hutt who simply utters a long breath with a grumble on the tail end of it, "You may present your findings for Lord Chrouda and he will listen to what you have for this thing to sing of and he hopes that which is given is worth his while. For the Lord Chrouda has appreciated your dedication to the hunt, and the services rendered to the Hutts in the past."

A tail flick and one of the dashade masseuse move to the covered platter, opening with the lid rotated towards the crowd and a four fingered hand, the skin baked crisp, pushed back upon the silver plating while they carve something with gleaming knives.

Fshmaw turns S3-P0Y and marches as a pair to Jin. "ovi kooph tearh ytugaghugh hageav thaa adorh ghevaethie seaparh ghiethivoow fufurh. ghevaethie aedi fedane uhefevus 'toov,' if fadewaetoo ghevaethie thierhaafo fadewaetoo ulea tearh fufurh sigh, ooweloo fadewaetoo ma ghevaethie isighogood seph aghaaw. oomapijyf adefaetu agieved uhefevus ghevaethie aaghiekah? ghevaethie agaame-ygazae?"

S3-P0Y (3P0 Unit 20936) repeats after Fshmaw, "Not sure I have it in me to regale a Hutt. Too many values for 'impress,' and of the handful of actions I could take, several just lead to being killed straightaway. You still hiring for the casino? The strip-joint?"

Jin Jodo is approached by Fshmaw and their droid, prompting a brief look of confusion as the alien speaks a tongue Jin is unfamiliar with, though, thankfully, its protocol droid is gracious enough to translate. Jin's brows perk slightly, and his hands rise to cup over his hips in a casual stance, non-threatening at least. "Sure, we're always looking for more enforcers.. people who know what to look for. The business is always about the bottom line. We get paid when the right amount of creds make it up the ladder.. but that only happens when everything is running like it should be, yeah? If you don't mind getting your..erm hands.. dirty, then you'll do fine." Jin shifts and nods, "That good enough for you?"

"So it seems," Min responds to Xavier in an absent-minded way. Her attention never leaves Sumi and the man being held up by his hair. A longer look is afforded Choudra, with Min's right hand sliding off the table to rest against her hip. Her finger worries a rapid beat against the leather of the belt slung just above the spot the groove of her hand meets with the curve of her body. Murmurs spread throughout the crowd, prompted by the Mandalorian's story, and slaves slow to regard the great Hutt, too. Not enough that their work stops, but enough that their progress is slowed. Some display outright fear at the notion. The agitated tap of Min's finger goes silent, much like she does. Her gaze hasn't moved from the Hutt. The court waits, some with breaths held.

Fshmaw nods. "oomapijyf ivu hi duphi ghevaethie 'isighogood eserhadew oomapijyf noosaazutie. aewofevood tearh aph liem." S3-P0Y (3P0 Unit 20936) repeats after Fshmaw, "You can make all the 'flipper jokes' you want. But I keep count." Fshmaw wags a fing-- a *digit*-- at Min.

"Hrmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm." Lids narrowing before the Hutt's gaze that is now rapt on the figure for whom the rod is meant for, taken by the Muun who bows his head towards the armored form of the collared human. Fat fingers drumming against its side and tail twitching back and forth for a long moment before it begins to speak with the same deliberate glacial speed that has been Chrouda's mode of conversing the entire time.

"His Great Apogee, The Mighty Chrouda The Hutt has found that Sumi of The Bounty Hunters Guild has proven her worth to the Hutts for having brought this what would have been a notable bounty before His Magnificence and accepts her gift with the respect intended from such a bauble as this and he is most pleased."

The hutt's gaze sweeps with deliberate ponderance to the blue armored figure before a rumble like continents cracking and mountains falling into the depths comes, "Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmiiii." one fat, yet flat looking, arm sweeping to singer and hunter, "Hoouhh hooouhh hooouhh hoooouhh..." a pair of nikto approaching to apprehend the figure, handed the rod by the Muun who had claimed it before, and proceed to drag him away while the platter of cut meat is held before the gaping maw, that same appendage taking up a hunk of dripping flesh to cram into the jaws of the Hutt.

"Joooooooooooooooodoooooos..." the Hutt's eyes turn to the siblings and then the Muun who needs no speech to translate.

"The Jodo Siblings will be further tasked and His Eminence is appreciative of your services to keep his servants with a full docket of tasks, Sumi Kora and His Greatness grants to you full accesses to the Palace of Pleasure's indulgences for no less than two weeks; to enjoy as you see fit with no restriction as a show of his appreciation."

The hutt issues a belch, flesh and fur spraying with fluids that run down its chin and belly. The sledge lifts with a groan of repulsor engines and the Muun continues, "This concludes the audience granted by Lord Chrouda - any further petitions must be made on another day." stepping back and sitting on the edge of the massive throne, the hutt and its immediate entourage begin to drift into the darkness and the depths of the palace restricted to other, lesser, sentients. The screams of Sumi's gift echoing after.

Green eyes narrow. Clarise rubs his earlobe, but he tugs his head away slightly. "Tarq Najjic has never heard Sumi Kora say as many words as this in his life up to this point, combined. Does she have, maybe, speech streaming on screen inside helmet?" Space teleprompter. "Or is poetry always just /waiting/, inside, to spill out whenever mouth opens longer than three - seconds?" He glances at Xavier, then back at the scene unfolding in front of the Hutt. "Questioning - everything, now."

Though court had been dismissed, Amal did not move immediately towards the exit. Instead, she waited until the Hutt had disappeared back into the confines of the palace. Once he had departed, the glass, still nearly full was passed off to a servant, before Amal turned to make her way from the audience chamber. She made no stops, nor any attempts to garner any attention she ought not to. They had been dismissed, and she made her departure forthwith.

Still idly petting the lekku as he watches, Xavier's chin tilts just slightly upwards to Tarq's comment. "Hmm? Oh, she has on occassion, I suppose. I've been chewed out once or twice by her." He fails to say when, where, or why. None of those questions are deemed important. Instead, he gestures towards one of the Jodos with a hand. "Sounds like I will have to get to know your new friends even sooner than I had thought. No time like the present, I suppose."

Sumi sweeps her cape back and bows, surrendering the acquisition without a fuss. One does not visit a Hutt without a gift, a lesson she learned from years of moving through their court. <"His eminence is most gracious. I accept."> Sumi pivots then, cape swishing slightly before descending the steps in the same leisurely pace as she had climbed them. Rather than return to her table though, Sumi makes for the exit. It hadn't seemed appropriate to say, but Sumi guessed it went without overstating it: Mr. Bullet sends his regards. 'Chiing--chiiing--Chiing--chiing' announces the Kora Alor's exit, parting the sea of people as she walked.

Jin raises both hands in a brief, 'hey hey' like he meant to convey, wait, gesture. "No disrespect, I wasn't sure what you wanted me to call them. No jokes, just mutual respect. I like a guy who calls it as they see it though. We need that kind of spine with people. Seriously, respect.. you want a drink?" Jin asks, gesturing Fshmaw toward the bar. "On me, to make amends, I mean." If they were going to work together, might as well be with a clean slate.

Fshmaw nods. "fufurh tireselaa ghiethivoow uhefevus, kooph. doo etaetutov?" He listens as Jin has an opportunity to wax at length about his favorites, perhaps? S3-P0Y (3P0 Unit 20936) repeats after Fshmaw, "Could use a drink, sure. What's good?"