Log:Jervo's World Cup: A Lava of Love

Race 4 of the Jervo's World Cup at the Lava Lake Arena

OOC Date: December 10, 2022
Location: Jervo's World
Participants: Ejnar Celchu, Mandl, Aconaa, Amaia Dara, Viktar, Aryn Cortess, Colo Nell, Qutha Buvu Pah, Domino, Rieve Selki, Kasia Ashkuri, Galen Dawnstar, Xavier Harcourt, Noemie Lenoir, Hahtavi Kora, and Reverberate as GM

The lights of the Lava Lake extinguish, casting the entire arena into the hellfire glow of a dying star. A looped arch of molten rock is hurled by pressures building beneath the surface and someone on the lighting team capitalizes on the circumstance. Holograph fireworks chase the arch, exploding into a growing series that cascades in an expanding spiral blending with real pyrotechnics, culminating in a shielded sphere erupting from the lava and rising high above while droid controlled platforms move to assemble beneath.

"GENTLEBEINGS!"

Gutu Phlu: The Gran Majordom of RACING emerges from the sphere onto the assembled platform, spotlights striking him from all angles and the platform rotates. Droid cameras broadcast his broad face and stylish three lens shaders, panning back to show his arms and upper body in both holographic and flat screen displays.

"WELCOME BACK, TO JERVO'S WORLD!"

A platform extends from a service section of the raceway, a dome drawing back to show the swoop racers, vehicles and service crew. The environmentally shielded 'starting zone' locking into place at the broad lane that rings the molten rock.

"RACE FOUR OF THE JERVO'S WORLD CUP WILL SOON COMMENCE! BROUGHT TO YOU BY NEZWUMP'S MEAT LUMPS! ONLY ONE MORE RACE AFTER THIS AND WE WILL CROWN OUR CUP CHAMPION!!! SWOOPERS!! TO. YOUR. VEHICLES!!!"

The stadium erupts and a whirling visual cacophony of lights start, bathing everywhere and everyone in colours spanning multiple visual spectrums.

Lord Ejnar Celchu of Alderaan was back for more punishment. Two races won under his belt, the last one did not go his way in the least bit. A big fat DNF. Perhaps not as embarrassing as it could have gone, but his speeder from that run was completely trashed.

Luckily since then Ejnar had recently married a lovely Echani noblewoman who happened to be a manic mechanic. A gremlin of sorts. On display was his new speeder, built entirely by the Lady Vega Celchu. A sleek design. Practical yet costly. It sported the colors of House Celchu, Green, Dark Purple, and the black of the Alderaanian Shadowbird. He wore that tight swoop suit, his anonymity now out the window as the 'Night Screacher'. He was fixing the inside of the helmet. The Lady Vega was not present, perhaps watching from up in the box seats with the rest of the Alderaanian nobility. With him was instead his pluck R2-Unit Five-Tee.

Ejnar put the sleek black helmet on and mounted his sleek swoop bike. He activated the repulsors and the engine roared to life. He revved the engine a bit, pulling the throttle handle back and forth. Satisfied, he waited for the race to start. Magma... nothing but liquid hot magma spread in front of him. Five-tee whistled. Ejnar looked to him and nodded, "Right... can't fall off this one. Can't swim through it."

Mandl's unusually bulky suit is a marked change from their traditional candleflame-themed singlet, but the telltale plugs and HUD testify it's meant for driving-- rumors persist the bored millionaire geologist was manufacturing their own challenges by adopting sub-optimal equipment to increase the thrill. They lift a gauntleted, six-fingered hand and bestride their swoop, neither custom nor brightly-painted.

This time around, Aconaa was going with pink for her choice of speeder bike, but the swoop she brought up to the starting line was still the same old Aratech model that was, suffice to say, probably a bit outdated. Looking around the track through the visor of her blue-dyed Corellian Swoopsuit, she gives a light shake of her head at the sight. As usual, the arena was ridiculously over the top, but this week somehow seemed like an even bigger step up. "This seems like it'd be a -very- bad track to have an accident on," the Togruta racer notes to herself with a chuckle. "Well, Jervo's World sure knows how to keep things interesting at least." Mounting her swoop, she starts it up and checks it over one last time before the race officially begins. Compared to more modern swoops, the pink nike was pretty loud, though she didn't hear any particularly concerning noises from it at least.

In the roaring crowd sits a man all by his lonesome. No snacks, no drink. Like some kind of sociopath. Just one cigarette burning idly away between two fingers and brown eyes watching stoically as the race gets ready to start. He's not cheering. In fact, it doesn't even seem like he's aware of where he is. A lot on the mind, perhaps. If it weren't for the occasional pull of that cig and an exhale of smoke, he could have passed for an impressively good hologram.

Xavier has one leg propped up; ankle resting on the knee and hand dangling over. Fingers tapping some unheard song from his hand onto the leather of his boot. Interrupted only by the loudspeaker all but shouting the race's emminent start. That, at the very least, gets his eyes to focus from whatever faraway place he was and take in the area for the first time since sitting down.

"Wine, your grace?" Asks the staff member nearest Aryn Cortess, who has settled into a luxurious chair within the viewing suite for the races. "What vintage, sir?" Asks Aryn, turning a judgmental look toward the bottle he is attempting to divest. "Lake Wine, from Naboo. I believe one of your guests brought it."

"Yes," Aryn confirms. "Lake wine is good for races." Her attention turns back out toward the track and she sighs, glancing to one side hoping to see Lord Ban, but finding his absence instead. "Your Grace?" The staff member prompts, and Aryn glances up questioningly before realizing he was offering her the glass with wine. "My thanks, sir." She accepts it and pulls it close, holding it in both hands.

In the midst of the cacophany that was every fan of the swoop races, a bastion of calm centered itself on the mandalorian seated in one of the mid-tier seats set aside for the 'buy on the day' ticketholders. Green and blackened silver played well against the bright crimson, orange, and gold of the arena, as the warrior sat still and silent. Amaia had no horse in this race, but only waited, watched, leaned forward forearms resting on her knees. if a hunt was underway, there was nothing in evidence.

In the stands, with his jacket left behind, a stadium sized 'large' cup of grain alcohol and a bowl of Nezwumps Meat Lumps (just -swimmin'- in that nutrient gravy!) is Qutha Pah. With a herglic to his left and an ithorian on his right, he is settled into his clotted meat sauce and nutrient enriched lumps with a smile on his face.

"I really sh'nt like this, y'all know? Dunno whys I do, but it's great t'be in t'day eh?" the Ithorian bobs its elongated, flat, head slightly while giving the zelosian the side-eye. The whale like behemoth just looks on, munching a handful of fried crispy curl-crustaceans.

"Mean, s'a pretty daing'ress thing. I done heard sommat died last year."

Another side-eye, but no words spoken back. And so the flora continues to eat.

"Do people actually eat that stuff...?" Colo wonders as he spies the latest ad for a lump of meat wump. Or is it a wump of meat lump? He doesn't pay the ad much more mind, except that the free samples handed out shortly past the entrance of the stadium ensures that his curiosity defeats his skeptical ways. He tries a bite and instantly wishes he hadn't, yet can't bring it upon himself to toss it away. Colo should know better, he really should, yet aside from ensuring he can grab a lightly-alcoholic beverage from a stand that sells what it deems the 'Jewel of Jervo' he can't quite bring himself to do much more aside from jaunt towards one of the many seats in the stands that offer a mid-tier view of the screens. The swoops, at least, gives his mind something to keep track of that's not just terrible comestibles.

As is not uncommon at these events a Mandalorian has arrived. They often do to cruise the gathered crowds and work their way through facial scans, looking for bounties. One such is Hahtavi Kora wearing his usual mostly black and grey armor. The Kora settles himself near one of the railings with a good view of the track as the race is getting ready to start. Noting who is racing, he then turns and goes looking for a bookie to lay a bet on Ejanr this race, just for the hell of it. Why not?

That done, this Mando slowly starts to make his rounds through the stands as the crowds settle for the start of the race. Haht might even see a familiar face or two in the crowd today...

Rieve Selki eyed the span of laval lakes and relished the fiery brightness that allowed him to witness this race in its entirety. It had been a long journey, and yet Rieve's layered robes were uncreased and spotlesssly arrayed upon his graceful form. Idly ruffling a hand through his blue hair, Rieve glanced about at the varied seats on offer, and moved to settle just in time for the race to start. And start it did, with the revving of powerful engines, the roar of such powerful mechanical marvels ensured that Rieve leant forward to get a better look at the machines that sought to skim molten lava. From machine to machine, to the whirling route ahead, Rieve pondered the bravery of those souls astride their speeders. Only then does Rieve finally lean back, a languid motion that sees his robes shifting and catching the fiery light in varied ways.

"Never before witnessed one of these races. Their bravery is astounding." The accented words, warm and fluid, each one flowing easily into the next is offered to Xavier, a stranger, but a stranger a few seats away and within speaking distance. Rieve's gaze remaining fixed upon the racers even still.

Having arrived to the station several hours prior to pick up an order of dyes for her boutique, Noemie Lenoir had seen the advertising and hype for today's race all around the shopping district. The spaceport was backlogged today with all of the incoming traffic and it would be at least into the evening before her order could be loaded up so the plan had been to meet an associate of hers and watch the race. Considering the commotion about the station for this race, it was easy to get caught up in the hype.

The fashion designer took her time getting to the racing section, stopping at various boutiques and outlets along the way - as is her habit, and the peach-colored droideka that walks beside her draws some attention, leaving nothing for the poor PIT droid that wobbles beside it. Having arrived at the venue, however, she presents her invitation and finds herself escorted, package in hand. Dating a Hapan brandy trader, there was always something in stock onboard her ship.

The fashionista had made an outfit just for this occassion this evening. A light coral jacket over a white crop top and pressed black pants was expertly tailored to her size and hand-stitched by herself at the boutique this past week. Heeled bootied clicked and clacked along the duracrete flooring as she approaches the Cortess booth for viewing, droids-in-tow. "Noemie Lenoir!" She says with an abundance of pep to the attendant, presenting the package. "With some wine for the Princess. Here's my invitation!" Behind her, Peaches stood patiently as there was always the question as to whether a protective detail would be admitted. Of DumDum, there was no sign. Noemie herself had yet to notice the PIT was missing!

Was someone talking to him? Did Xavier even hear it? He does turn his head slightly towards the sound, then curiosity takes full control. Xavier glances to the man a seat or two away with a lift of one thick brow. "Blue." Obsvervant, this man. Difficult to miss a guy with blue hair and this brings a slight grin to his older face. "Not exactly looking to disappear in a crowd, mm?" He raises his cigarette in respectful salute then steals a pull from it.

To the commentary on the racers and their bravery, Xavier snorts. "I'm not sure astounding is the word I would use. People do crazy things for money and fame. The real entertainment is watching them fail, I suppose. It's the struggle of life plastered on the screens for our pleasure." A laugh. "Well, at the very least, my pleasure."

Noemie's entrance into the private viewing suite was challenged by a pair of armed guards in Alderaan blue and white uniforms. A third appeared, in more ornate combat gear bearing a sheathed sword upon his hip. Ser Lars dipped his head in greeting. "Ms. Lenoir, Her Highness is expecting you. Please.. please come inside." He gestures and steps to one side, waving his arm to direct her (without saying so) toward the direction the other nobles and members of the Alderaan party are getting situated. Aryn had a few places open beside her (one which was tagged with Noemie's name!)

"I daresay Lord Ejnar has a good chance to win this one. Alas the last race went so poorly, but I think he has well learned his lesson. I look forward to his victory.." Aryn declares in her posh tone.

"I suppose not." Rieve offers something of a gap-toothed grin, bright and brief to Xavier. "Though there are more interesting things to look at than I." Even then, the Hapan is gesturing to the race ahead of them, and likely the crowd itself that consists of so many differing species and spoken languages. As to Xavier's own comments, Rieve nods everso slightly as his gaze drifts over the brave riders down below. "I doubt I'd find the bravery to do what they do even so, I'll settle for no fame and even less wealth when given the option of speeding over lava at speeds I daren't even ponder." The languid Hapan settles easily, his blue eyes now dancing about the crowd and drinking in the veritable smorgasbord of species.

"RACERS!"

Lights converge on the racers, bathing them in shimmering golds, reds and oranges that flicker like the lava and flames they are so dangerously close to now.

"START. YOUR. ENGINES."

The holographic starting line at the far end of the swooper platform blazes bright red and begins showering brightly glowing sparks to mark its border. Advertisements for the Pazaak and Tabac on Nar Shaddaa begin scrolling across the dome displays above the raceway. Dancers of various species and gender cavort through the lanes between seating rows in the stands. Pyrotechnic launchers at the top of the stands firing out clouds of streamers and glitter to rain over the whole of the crowd.

"GET READY!"

The starting line turns bright yellow and flames erupt all around it. The ramp tilts, towards the lane that orbits the lava lake that hurls a glob of molten rock from a pressure release, causing a violent splash upon its return to the mass.

"GEEEYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

The tight black Swoopsuit crunched as crinkled as Ejnar moved, attempting to get a proper position on the seat of his swoop. The controls were a little bit different than a normal bike. They were made, as were his previous craft, to reflect that of someone who might be more apt as a pilot of interceptors. Inspired by Actis type craft this time around... or an A-Wing without loosing the accessibility of standard swoop controls.

Lord Celchu grabbed a good bit of his suit and pulled against it, attempting to at least loosen the overly tight elastic type material. "No wonder Vega likes wearing loose clothing. Imagine, just imagine." He shook his head.

Did Ejnar learn his lesson? THat was to say, was he starting out this race more cautious than before. Yes, he was. Given the environment and the violence the Waterworld had thrown at him, perhaps a nice nudge and feel into the course was more appropriate. Despite the over abundance of caution, Ejnar rockets forwards like lightning. The swoop is fast, he had known that when they tested it. Even for a normal cruising speed like he kept. He guided the craft with a steady and confident hand.

Mandl's equal-but-opposite problem does, it seems, provide 'an interesting challenge,' by tying one hoof down as the suit bunches in odd places and constricts in others? At least there are no sensory-neural needl-- wait, *are there?!* In what is either a moment of actualization as the needles hit home or a bit of psychological warfare, they comm Aconaa: "I don't want to see scorch-marks on my baby! Exercise supreme caution!"

Aconaa grips the handlebars of her swoop and leans forward as the announcer builds up to the start of the race. She revs the engine of her pink swoop loudl, readying her bike and psyching herself up. Glancing over at Mandl, a small smirk forms on her lips and she gives a nod to him in recognition, both to acknowledge his message and his choice of swoop for the race. "Nice suit," she comms back with a chuckle. "Good luck." And then... they're off. The starting signal is given and Aconaa guns her engines hard to maneuver in front of the other racers. She knew she'd have to fight hard as well to have any chance, but with the flashy pyrotechnics and the bright glow of the lava pools, maybe that flashy pink swoop of her's would be a bit distracting to the others and give her an edge.

As the start to race was called, Amaia leaned back, not quite settling back into her seat, but at the least leaving room for her body to shift as the racers moved across the tracks. A hand rose, e gesture of negation as the ever-present vendors moved through, looking to ply their trade in drinks and nibbles. An uptick of her helmet marked the eruption of super-heated rock, but, for the moment, perhaps it was only a show of force. The attack would surely come later.

Some colors are more easily picked out of a crowd than others even if a crowd like this, and Colo's never been inattentive. Blue, for instance, and then the thick-browed face of an older gent next to him are rather easily spotted even with a cursory glance. Coincidences are a hell of a thing that way. Most might continue to look on, but Colo's eyes are briefly drawn from the scramming engines and the zip of starters. The heady announcement to get ready jostles the Corellian man loose from his reverie and he peeps forward, leans ahead, and munches on another wump of meat to add to the mistakes of the evening. "Blech," He curses, shudders, and then looks askance from the initial zooms down towards Rieve and Xavier again from his slightly-higher vantage. He furrows his brows and squints, pondering just a moment on an intrusion.

Noemie had met Ser Lars once before, during another of her associates' citizenship celebration and a flash of recognition crosses her hazel eyes. She drops into a formal curtsey, one ankle behind the other and tugging politely at the sides of her pants in a gesture trained into her at the Theed Academy for Young Girls. "Ser Lars, thank you! This is Peaches," she says, presenting the peach-colored droideka with a pale hand. "She's non-lethal and insists on protecting me everywhere I go!" As the concern for the moment was Peaches, the young Naboo had neglected to introduce DumDum, increasing the time it's been since the PIT droid managed to quietly sneak away from its owner. Coming into the viewing booth, she instructs Peaches to wait in the corner so as not to interfere with anyone's field of view and exhibits the same curtsey for Princess Cortess as she had shown to Ser Lars, though held slightly longer.

"Thank you for inviting me!" She always spoke so cheerfully. "It's wonderful to see you as always." Taking the seat that had been reserved for her, the Naboo smooths out the material of her tailored pants, settling politely into her seat. Her jacket sleeves are rolled back slightly to expose hardly more than her wrists, puerly for reasons of aesthetics. "I really love your top," she says with a smile on clear-glossed lips. "Not as bulky as sequins but giving the appearance of them. I love that!" Her attention turns to the race as her young eyes look for an obvious sign as to which one would be Lord Celchu. Black brows rise with interest at seeing the pink swoop down there, however. "Oh wow. That pink one looks gorgeous surrounded with lava like that! I dunno why!"

The dip from Xavier's head to Rieve is one of concession. "You got me there, friend. I suppose in a mixed crowd such as this, you may slip in unnoticed just fine. Though your attire would suggest otherwise. From---" A blank. He takes a moment to himself to look at the finery a bit closer, flipping through the pages of his mind to see if he can place it. This lasts all of... oh, six seconds before he is laughing to himself and shaking his head. "As you can tell, fashion is not more strong suit. I beg you, forgive the pun."

Xavier rises from his seat and edges over, sitting back down next to the man so that they do not have to talk quite so loudly to be heard over the crowds. "Fame is not all it's cracked up to be. Others certainly thrive on it, though. I will concur that any feat that takes place over lava fields is one at least work commending. Me? I choose life." Xavier offers a large hand to his conversation companion. "Xavier Harcourt. And you are?"

Covered in glitter.

Qutha's brow lifts as he looks at the little sparkles in his meat lumps. That have likely gotten into his cup through the straw. On his hands. On his clothes. Glitter everywhere. Unavoidable. Frowning a little, thoughtful and taking another bite of his lumps the orchardist's nonplussed demeanor shifts somewhat and he continues to chew.

"Had worse."

The herglic turns slightly, looking down at Mr. Pah with an expression of confusion and possibly derision for his choice to consume Glitter Lumps but remains stoically silent.

With a yawn as he walks in Galen does a quick visual sweep of the crowds and finding a spot that wasn't /overly/ crowded he makes his way towards it bottle of water cracked open as he takes a sip before acquiring a seat and a view of the races. "Who's in the lead? Managed to miss everything so far." Question tossed out but to nobody in particular.

And there the racers start their engines, ready to rip off from the starting line. Hahtavi Kora pauses by another railing to watch them kick off the race, having placed his bet. He watches for a few moments, then turns and starts walking up another aisle in the stands, his helmet's T-visor scanning the massed faces of many kinds of beings. Most of which pay the Mandalorian bounty hunter no mind at all - while a few others eye him warily, or turn their faces away, preferring not to be noticed.

No one in the crowd seems to capture his attention as yet. Hahtavi keeps ascending, then slowly goes across the back to start down the other side.

Hey, it gives him something to do while he's at the races and all those stair steps? Man probably has fabulous legs.

"The rider in bright pink (Aconaa was wearing bright pink, yes?). Whether the question had been directed at the mandalorian, it prompted the female to reply as it was an easy enough question to answer. Anything more complex? The stakes, the betting pool, whether or not one took their own life into their hands and ordered the meat lumps? Those were not questions posed, so, Amaia left them to fall where they would.

Kasia, has also managed to miss everything up to this point, but that's due to not being here for the earlier part of the race. Whoops. The important thing is that she's here now, right? With adequate snacks that she carefully balances in one arm while weaving her way through the crowd to find a suitble empty seat, which she finally finds and parks herself in

In where? Where did you park Kasia? They mystery.

"Of course, Ms. Lenoir. We would be delighted to take your droid into our guard, if it pleases?" The Knight says, stepping back to allow Noemie to direct her automaton as she saw fit. The First Sword simply watched and departed once Noemie had found her way to the Princess.

Noemie had caught Aryn when she was sipping her wine, but she acknowledged the display of deference by waving the woman closer. "We were just tasting the wine you sent, Noemie. Please have a seat.. anything to drink.. umm, SIR.. over here, sir. This fine young lady with me would like something, please.." Aryn watches the staff close the distance to attend Noemie.

When conversation goes to her top, Aryn touches it with a dainty hand and smiles. "I wish I could claim this is by my direction, but alas, my dear friend Lady Nora chose these for me. One might say she has an eye for style! -- I love how cheerful you always are; it just charges the atmosphere no matter where you go. I appreciate it, and I am so thankful you could accept our invitation. /We/," Aryn indicates the group of nobles sitting around them, "Are here for Lord Ejnar." She points him out on the screen, not bothering to stand and look out the window to point there. Nobles, the dirt worst.

With Xavier's re-seating close by, Rieve himself shifts and adjusts his position slightly as to not take up quite as much space with his rather ostentatious robes. The offered hand is taken, even clasped within the other in a rather formal manner of greeting. "Rieve Selki, and some might say that fashion is hardly mine either." Rieve's grin widens slightly, even as he shifts just enough to better accomodate Xavier beside him. "A pleasure to meet you, truly. Life and living, both as dangerous as the next in these times."

That sense of being watched prickles at Rieve's senses, but then he is in a stadium of a good many people. It is inevitable. But even so, the Hapan momentarily looks about, and there! A Colo! Rieve erupts with a warm bark of laughter. "What are the chances?" A beckoning wave, a billowing sleeve, and a lo an empty seat! "I'm not sure if you've made this gent's acquaintence, one Captain Nell."

The squint continues from Colo, his source of perplexion obvious as he peers down upon the blue and the dark. The situation is dangerous--magma! lava?--and the position of the two gents is curiouser still. Is this all one big scheme of Xavier's? He's unsure, but knows one way to find out. Just as Colo moves to stand, he spots that gesturing, beckoning hand shot his way and gulps. He's been made--had?--and yet feels the gravity all the same. 

A mere minute later and Colo slithers through the crowds: "'Scuse me, pardon me, VIP comin' through," He lies, and makes it along past the bustle towards the hustle that's going on. He pauses first near Rieve's side, then settles down after a particularly rude spectator hisses at him to sit down. Colo's quick to smirk, though, adopting what he can of a confident expression while his arms are loaded with junk-food. "Well. A face I hadn't thought I'd see again. Good day, Xavier...Mr. Selki."

Dangerous as the next? "You have no idea." His cig is getting tragically close to the end of its life, but Xavier is nothing if not frugal. One more inhale of toxic fumes brings that glowing thin line of embers close to his fingers. "What I mean to say is that it is a conundrum. Cursed with a desire to live and yet every turn is to be face with something trying to stop you from it. Save for these -- ah ha -- brave souls." He's trying to be nice, but 'brave' is said with the same downward inflection as one would say 'wreckless.' Then again, that is exactly what the crowd is here for.

Nell? The name rings just a bit familiar and it isn't long before he has a face to put to the name. "Ah, indeed we have. The hopeful songbird from Nar Shaddaa. I see I've earned first name basis." He glances to Rieve then back to Colo. Again the brow quirks but this time the smile is that of a cat that has found a full den of mice. "I'm sorry. Was this seat yours? Forgive me, Mister Selkie. I didn't realize you were waiting on a friend. And Mister Colo Nell himself, no less. What a small satellite."

Viktar makes his way into the Lava Lake Arena, as usual, he's a bit late. He's dressed in his usual spacer's garb and has a nico-stick hanging from the side of his maw. He pauses a moment, checking his ticket and then looking to the other hand on the bets he had placed. He double checks, then walks down a few stairs before sliding into the aisle past some other customers who look annoyed that he is making them leave their seats for him to make it to his. "Wow, this looks like fun..." he grins as he looks to the track and the races. As he settles into his seat, he waves down one of the by passing beer peddlers and orders a nice room temperature, flat, mass produced, over-priced beer, which is soon in the cupholder on his seat. He turns his attention towards the crowd and the races upcoming.

"Sure," Noemie will have said to the Knight, adding, "you can watch after both of them!" She has no idea her PIT ran off before she even ascended to the VIP level.

"I'd love some," she accepts with a polite smile. "Some of what I brought is fine!" The Naboo beams happily at the attendants and she finally allows herself to relax in her seat, crossing one leg over the other so that the heel of her ankle boot dangles a few inches from the floor. She smiles warmly at the comment, dipping her head thankfully. "Oh thank you! I try to stay happy. And it's hard not to be around such company! Lady Nora certainly has a fashion sense if your outfit tonight is evidence to go by!" Noemie had been around Nora but had yet to formally meet her. If she had a name to the face she would certainly agree with her own statement just now. Her gaze moves to the screen where she picks out Ejnar among the group of racers as they take off, her head jerking back in surprise when the lava bubble bursts near the starting line.

Down below, a PIT droid named DumDum has managed to find its way to the stands, toward the bottom level and near the racing pit where almost nobody will bat an eye at a PIT droid waddling around. Act like you fit in and you will, and for a PIT droid, it's effortless to fit in here. The curious little droid with its short stature easily crosses below the stands where discarded snacks and packaging litter the ground as it looks around for the racing pit proper.

Racers are off!

The rear of the pack being Sullustan, Snivvian and Yakora who are already making gestures and shouting insults back and forth between one another in the opening run of the outside track where the heat beats against the environmental shields and gives threat that it will surge past and immolate the lot of them.

"HERE WE GO FOLKS!" Gutu is already bouncing on his feet and cameras in place put the racers on display - some droids with overpowered anti-gravs providing close up views of the drivers as they round the long oval track. A languid start to allow the establishment of starting positions before the path cuts sharp left. A shielded tube going directly into the lava with holographic displays begin showing the racers places and the race as broadly as possible in tighter confines where the heat is like a strike across the face.

A wending route that 'leaps' above the surface of the molten lake, allowing chances to change tracks by risking literal jumps above the surface of the deadly obstacle before diving back in.

"THE RANDOMIZER HAS SPOKEN, GENTLES! THE HEATFISH TRAILS!"

Who designs this drok?

The tightness of the suit was keeping the wind at bay, which was a lot considering how fast Ejnar was going. He had been letting the engine on his sleek swoop warm up, the oil churning through the engines. Then again, the heat from the lava they were surrounded by was doing that already. As things smoothed out and places began to be established, Ejnar simply focused on what was ahead of him. As they neared the shield tube, he opened up on the throttle some and pushed the repulsors against the wall, speeding along the shield at a slight angle. Then he moved it back down onto the track in order to pass the small jump ahead. The craft zipped across the expanse, creating a sort off whistling revving sound as it did so. He leaned forwards to get just a bit more aero dynamic.

Mandl's journey was never guaranteed to be easy: although off to a fine and skilled start, their controls seize markedly as they're called to skip between pipes, forcing them to ride the environmental shields like electrified bowler-bumpers, resulting in "additional hairlessness!" Follow them for more Bith beauty secrets! In a shower of sparks and tenacity, they continue heedless of the danger! (... does anyone else smell fresh calamari? Just me?)

Things go from hot to hotter as the track dips into the lava through a shielded tunnel. The thought of what the heat emanating from the lava alone would do to them if not for the shields around them in the tunnel briefly crosses Aconaa's mind as she does the most sensible thing to do in that scenario. She drives in loops around the tunnel, showing off a bit. With the shields the only thing between the lava and them either way, she figured the walls and ceiling of the tunnel made for just as reasonable a track as the rest of it, the glow of the lava flashing off her bike and suit from all angles.

"It is a most curious happenstance, the fact you both know eachother also." Rieve offers with that languid air and warm lazy accent. Yet the Hapan is at ease as he basks now between two others, and for a moment or two he admires the full throttle excitement going on down low. allowing for a few moments of poised silence, and though Rieve's blue eyes are fixed upon the swoops for the moment he can't help but state. "A small world, and enough seating for all even so." Indeed, there's a bright gap-toothed smile offered Colo as the junk-food laden Corellian makes himself comfortable, "Do you need uhhh assistance?" The question asked, pale hands poised to catch anything that seems set to tumble towards the floor, regardless of the five second rule. It is to Xavier and Colo both the Hapan asks, his gaze flitting from one to the other, "Songbird? Truly?" What an intriguing title! And one the robe-clad Hapan seems to delight in as he glances to both Xavier and Colo. "What a title. The Songbird of Nar Shaddaa?"

Half-standing, nearly upsetting his food and drink, Qutha bounces in place when things turn interesting. His free hand lifting a banner that shifts between the racers names and colors; as if he cannot decide on a favorite so he's going to support them all. But for those who know Mr. Pah, is it surprising he'd be equally supportive down the line?

Watching the paths cross into the lava, but really is it lava? We're technically in space and it's contained within specialized environmental shields. Like a synthetic planetary crust and mantel, even. Would it not be liquid, hot, mag-ma?

People could try to tell him otherwise, but he's no geologist. He's just a plant, drinking his grain alcohol and eatin' his meat lumps that are covered in glitter.

Sitting between an indifferent Herglic and a suspicious sort of ithorian.

From the opposite direction of Colo another is closing in... the big Mandalorian has spotted /someone/ in the crowds, and as he makes his way through, the Kora gets closer and closer until he comes to stop near to a blue haired humanoid in fine robes and ... <"Xavier Harcourt, I imagine you are wanted in quite a few systems by now."> A deep chuckle of amusement rather than reaching for a weapon. <"Been a while since I'd seen you last.">

Rieve he doesn't know but the other man coming up from the other side is given a faint nod of his helmet, <"Colo."> Hahtavi looks towards the racers' progress, zipping around the lava fields around the hot, glowing lake. <"Should be a good race today."> They might see some spectacular crashes.

The Kora doesn't take a seat - if there even was one. Half of his attention is on the racing. Oooh, the Biff hits the shields. Nice. He doesn't look like he's going to stay though. Hunting to do....

"Yes, the Lady certainly has comments about every article of clothing I possess. A sense for fashion, and a duty to it seem to run synonymous when one is regarding Lady Nora. I have lived with her judging eye..." Aryn sighs, grinning crookedly and speaking endearingly of her friend, "ALL my life. I have come to welcome her wisdom, when she deems to share it."

Staff within the suite begin to pass out treats, and one staff in particular returns with Ms. Lenoir's drink. "Miss," He addresses before passing it off. Snacky-treats are passed out along the rows, and Aryn and Noemie get first choice of all, being at the front. Aryn selects a fresh skewer of sizzling spiced meat, tasting the one at the top covered in space-teriyaki. "Divine," she claims, chewing slowly. "Regale me over which racer you have come to support, Noemie." Aryn turns her head slightly to watch the Naboo woman, her blonde strands falling back a bit to reveal the scar over her eye. It is not an unsightly thing, but it's not hidden or concealed behind any makeup. Alderaanians were proud to display such marks.

The almost deceased racer was a point of great contention among the onlookers, the sheer din of the betting pools almost drowning out the sound of anything else. And yet, it seemed not to bother Amaia at all, the helm moving from racer to racer, from the movement of the flow of spectators, to the sight of familiar (it's make, not the particular model) of clan armor moving through the stands. There was no approach, however, and she simply leaned forward again, forearms returning to her knees. "is this a regular passtime, then?" That to the man she did not know, who had asked her about winning. Tit for tat.

"Oh, we've met," Colo is quick to offer with a sly, self-assured smirk towards Rieve. "Continue to depart under favorable circumstances, even, despite Xavier's best efforts. He -did- give his real name, I trust?" Colo teases, every bit the Very Impish Person he'd professed to the crowd when finding his new seat. Even if it's occupied with Xavier, however, he gives a quick shake of his head. "No, no, I wouldn't dream of taking your place, good sir, no matter how superior your position to our lovely, mutual acquaintance here. Please, be at peace. Meatwump?" He suggests, extending his arm and the sack of awful snacks with it directly towards the darker of his two companions.

His focus is broken only a moment by the Hapan's words and Rieve earns a clever look from the gambling man. "No, thank you, though please help yourself. If anyone's in need, it's the songbird here," He assures with a nod towards Xavier. Colo seems on the verge of more quips before the vocoder buzzes off to one side. The dark head of hair twists and he shoots a welcoming, greeting grin over to Hahtavi. "Hahttie. Aye. Very good. Small satellite indeed. Or we're all just racing addicts..." He muses.

Xavier's previous stance has been returned: ankle on the knee, fingeres tapping his boot. He doesn't seem inclined to relinquish the seat he is in even with the pretnse of /maybe/ having accidentally stole it. Colo, assumingly, takes a seat on the other side of Rieve and for the moment, the black-haired man is looking up at the screens. Listening, sure, but eyes are on the race in the off-chance someone ends up breaded and deep-fried.

Then there is a Mandalorian in his sight. Brown eyes lock on helmeted Hahtavi and the cherry of his cig burns all the brighter. Enough that the line of ash reaches his fingers and starts to burn though he doesn't seem to notice. "Of course I gave him my real name. I'm not rude." He answers first to the pair of men all while his eyes stare up at the visor. "Ah, Hahtavi. Indeed, I noted your absence the last time I had visited the hangar. Pity, that. But don't worry. Your kin were quite welcoming."

Removing the nub from his lips, he flicks it forward, letting it ping harmlessly off of the Kora's breastplate. "And I'm afraid I've yet to earn a bounty, if that's what you mean. Though you needn't an excuse to come speak to me. We're all friends here, right, lads? This is Mister Rieve Selkie and I see you already know Captain Colo Nell."

The Kora laughs through his helmet's vocoder to what Xavier says and ignores the ash flicking, <"I bet my kin were. If any beatings were involved then I'm sorry I missed it."> Hahtavi chuckles, <"Another time."> He doesn't stay to join them, alas. The Mandalorian keeps on moving and looking for certain kinds of prey...

His true name? A blue-dyed brow is indeed arched, though there's definite amusement lingering upon the Hapan's noble features. "I believe so, though names are often such fickle things, and it's so good to see so many friends here. Greetings to you." The very offering yielded to Hahtavi as he lingers but a moment amidst his hunt, while the Hapan ponders the prospect of savouring a meatwump? Such a delicious treat to overwhelm the senses? Well how could Rieve even begin to say no? It simply isn't possible! And thus a meatwump is claimed from Colo, examined curiously, and then sniffed at lightly. With nothing offensive assailing the senses, Rieve then pops said wump of meat between his lips and begins to chew. Slowly. Steadily. Oh the taste. That's definitely taste. Rieve continues chewing. It is chewable. Very. And Rieve's teeth continue their unceasing task of mastering the mastication of this meaty treat.

The prospect of swallowing the meatwump doesn't exactly appeal, and though Rieve can hardly be picky as to meals at times, this is one such 'treat' that Rieve is pondering somehow disposing of. "It's delicious." The statement of fact offered as the tactile lump of stuff is chewed. And chewed. And even after a slight pause, the chewing is renewed.

Noemie thanks the attendant with a warm smile and holds her wine glass daintily in her left hand. She didn't drink very often, but dating a brandy trader for a year now, she'd learned how to properly hold a wine glass. Taking a careful sip from it her eyes light up delightfully as the snacks are brought around. "Thank you so much!" She enthuses to one of the attendants while selecting a colorful pastry loaded with sugar.

"It's great that you have someone to help you with your outfits, and hopefully warn you when what you selected wasn't entirely coordinated before you go out!" The small Naboo nibbles again on her pastry, using her pinky to wipe a little of the icing off the tip of her nose. "I don't really have a racer in mind, but I'm pretty in to that pink bike doing stunts under the lava!" She giggles. "I'll also gladly root for any child of Alderaan!" Her head cants curiously as she looks to the monitor, asking, "Is this what he does for a job? A stunt driver? Wait..." her eyes narrow with realization. In contrast to Aryn, her face is made up, subtle, complimentary colors on her eyes and cheeks and a clear gloss on her lips. "Celchu - is this the one that escorted you on Taris that evening?"

Below, DumDum had finally found its way into the racing pit. The PIT droid wabbles beneath a bar marked 'Do Not Cross' as a PIT droid wandering into the pit makes complete sense and very few may have the wherewithal to question it. DumDum makes for the fuel pumps where it finds a hydrospanner discarded on the ground and curiously retrieves it, taking it to a section of discarded power converters where it selects a small converter that still has a small bit of latent charge. Spanner and power converter in hand, it aims its round photoreceptor around until it finds something interesting: the spare swoop bikes. DumDum begins to waddle in their direction.

Kasia's seat is near enough to Xavier and the others that she caught the line about not having a bounty yet, the subject making her glance over to the nearby spectators. "Having a bounty isn't all it's cracked up to be. The property damage from having one alone can be annoying." It's hard to say whether she's addressing her own bounty, or that of he husband, though the property damage remark likely hints at the latter. The snacks she had under one arm are now resting on her lap, with a drink held in one hand that she sips from every now and again. "That and the medical costs, though those tend to be necessary either way."

Domino weaves through the crowd at an unhurried and aimless pace. The neat, cultured curl of her ponytail swings rhythmically beind her in counter to her step. She scans the crowd, painted lips pursing in a brief flicker of idle vexation for some reason.

The opposite side of Rieve sees Colo settling in. His knees spread in the stereotypical Corellian manner and one brushes to the Hapan with little concern of personal space for the princeling. What he does give him, at least, is enough room to claim a score of meatwumps, or at least as many as he's brave enough to try. There's just a hint of trepidation, a lifting of a dark brow at Rieve's heedless concern for what he's eating, though when it gets the Hapan's review? Colo rolls his eyes and bursts out into laughter that's mostly lost amidst the roar of the swoops. "You are an excellent liar, my prince," He teases. To Xavier, then, he steers a soft smirk. "All friends. Some friendlier than others. Thus far, I maintain a high esteem for Mister Selkie. Jury's still out on you, Xavier. Maybe after another song or two I might adjust your score a little upwards."

"Remember folks! After the races remember to visit the WONDERFUL attractions on Jervo's World! OUR HOST! AND! SPONSOR!" Gutu calls out over the din of the races, his projection centered among the displays floating over the lake where the races suddenly climb back up at the very middle. Race lances cutting a whirling spiral all around.

Zaid, the Sullustan snarls at the others in the rear with her, blaming them for getting in her way while the others pull further ahead. Invectives are hollered and a wrench is cast at Pashil by Syooko - winging past and phasing through a one-way shield to be consumed by the lava.

The whirling paths over the surface converge and split unpredictably. The only guarantee being that they spiral further and further outward over shielded paths to keep proximity from immediately melting swoops and swallowing up riders in their conflagration; but not without risk. Not without the chance of an unwary swooper losing control and going into the lava on a sharper turn.

Then the paths all dip again, beneath the lake and back into the sweltering tunnels in search of glory, or extraordinary demise.

Entering the tunnels the neon runners in Green and Magenta running along the bottom of the swoop now become more apparent as darkness envelopes the fast craft. He weaves along the tunnels, in and around sharp rocks and deep outcroppings crossing by ocassional outlets into the lake. As he shoots back up to the top of the loop and comes back around he keeps the pace the same. He doesn't chance a look back, only keeps his periferals steady and the course ahead of him as his main focus. "Steady... steady." He breathed to himself, touching the throttle just a bit more.

Mandl doesn't spare the time or the energy to chastise Aconaa, a sale is a sale. Dr. B'rot had to hope their... steady prudence... in repeatedly choosing *not* to risk high-end vintage vehicles in such brutal and oft-murderous conditions would simply sink in or rub off. They'd put in the work? These races were about ego-death. They weren't about prize money or HoloNet coverage, they were about making it across the finish line in as few pieces as you can!

Playing hard and fast with lava was plenty dangerous in spite of Aconaa's success so far, and that danger was about to catch up to her. She comes down hard from one of those whirling jumps and the bottom of her shoop slips though the protective shield and... well there goes her swoop's landing skids. Gone so quickly she had barely even noticed until warnings started popping up on her display. "Well -kriff-. That's going to make finishing this race interesting..." she grumbles. Her swoop slows and wobbles a bit unsteadily as it continues on, but the Togruta manages to keep control of it in the end. As the saying goes, play with fire, you're going to get burned.

"Lord Celchu is a bit of a derring-do sort. I am not at liberty to divulge much of the Lord's dealings, but this is a pass-time for him. One might say.. good practice." Aryn shares, her tone a bit mysterious as if safeguarding some national secret. "Suffice to say, he is the same Celchu who attended the Taris event with me, yes." Aryn brings her wine up for a sip, focusing ahead again. She seemed satisfied with Noemie's answer about supporting Alderaanians. This was acceptable!

"I daresay, Lord Celchu appears to be in the lead. I do wish Ser Ban were here to see. He might have something witty to say, or some lone reference to the cavalry." She sighed, lifting the skewer again for another bite. This bite was a touch more spicy, and Aryn fanned her mouth after chewing for a few minutes. "Woof, this is spicy."

Now bereft of a cigarette to feed into his oral fixation and inherent desire to slowly kill himself with tar, Xavier watches Hahtavi move on then looks to Rieve who appears to be trying to kill himself on... whatever in the name of Oblivion those lumps are made out of. He rubs ate his beard, massaging out the tension that had started to gather there. "It would appear that the jury will remain hung in that regard, Captain. I understand I am not that particular Mandalorian's favorite person, but who /do/ those types like, really? So I don't take it personally. You, however, Captain." Brown eyes crinkle a bit at the corners. "You wound me with such harsh words. If it is a song that will ease you then perhaps I will oblige sometime. Though not here. I would prefer not to get pelted by meat lumps. It may hit his Majesty." Who knows? Maybe Rieve is a prince?

Another voice cuts in. One he does not recognize at all. That's a first tonight, He cranes his head to find the source in the face of Kasia. "I would hazard to say that the worst thing about having a bounty is the constant interruptions. Can't even go to the market without som foolish soul with credits in their eyes. I never did bother much with the cleanup, however. The trick is to have enough credits to pay off whoever put down the price, mmm? Or to make oneself too much of a hassle to go after. Which would you prefer, Miss...?"

A valiant effort! Why even braver than the speeding racers down below! Such a grand feat! For Rieve swallows the meatwump. Though the urge was there, the urge to surrepticiously dispose of the rendered gristle and lord knows what, all that finishing school training kicks in and Rieve swallows that exquisite treat with barely a flicker of discomfort. Just a brief inward whimper at the sullying of his digestive tract, perhaps the memory of a distant feast he once enjoyed when he was a part of the noble court on Hapes. But Rieve is made of sterner stuff these days, the meatwump will be violently digested and Rieve dares to dab at his mouth with an edge of his sleeve and a sly glance to Colo. "Thank you, I normally lie far better than that. I fear the wump o' meat has hindered my best efforts.

To be referred to as 'His Majesty' certainly ensures a languid trill of husky laughter from the Hapan, and indeed a glance to both Colo and Xavier. "It would be a crime to waste such delicacies, I am certain the crowd knows this, given their rampant consumption." Meatwumps everywhere! Being guzzled by the carton! With Kasia's own interjection, the blue-haired Hapan twists and offers both a floppy-fringed nod of greeting and a gap-toothed smile. "Words of wisdom, truly. I shall be sure to avoid such bounties."

Domino is shuffling past not far from Kasia and co when there's mention of bounties. She stops and looks up owlishly and then relaxes. A few seconds more and there's an indelicate snort and a bit of a headshake. She turns in spot and scans this section. Her chin lifts and her bottom lip is caught between her teeth as if she were struggling to do long division in her head while she still scanned the crowd.

Meat lumps consumed, the platter set aside to be taken to a trash receptacle later; because he gives a hoot. There is a hoot for the antics below and a comment to the herglic now,

"Shoot, y'd ne'er git me down there! No sirrah! I'd wilt, tell you what!" Qutha laughs and pats the larger sentient on the arm, hand remaining and even giving a familiar sort of shake. As if they were old comrades. The Ithorian gives the zelosian a side-eye, a rumbling sound and edges slightly away in its seat.

The herglic turns its head slightly to look down at Qutha, then reaches to put an arm around the much smaller figure's shoulders. Like old pals.

The Power of Friendship.

The corners of Kasia's mouth hitch a little higher with amusement as she looks back at Xavier. "The problem arises when you own the proverbial market and paying to fix it falls on your shoulders. Harder to scoot away and pretend it didn't happen. I mean, I can do that, but it starts to get pretty unsightly after a few incidents." She pauses long enough for a sip of the colorful juice, fingers from her opposite hand pressing a square of cloth against her mouth for a beat to blot away lingering juice. She made the mistake of wearing light colors and drinking a dark red juice. It's a dangerous game, and she's going to win it. Maybe.

The prompt for an introduction is followed first by a smile. "Kasia Ashkuri." Her gaze shifts to Rieve, and he too is granted a smile. "It's a good way to live if you can manage it. It's not always possible, sadly. Especially if you live in a, ah... more exciting place where the justice system is iffy and money speaks louder than everything."

While the Alderaanian racer is being explained to her - that which is able to be freely shared - Noemie's gaze focuses on the racer in question upon the monitor. As each racer has their own camera angle, she watches Ejnar's for a time, though Aconaa's captures her attention when she nearly becomes one with the molten rock. "Awwe! That was such a pretty swoop.." she says with a forlorn frown.

"Seems like your racer is having a good time!" A curious look is given to the Princess' meat skewer as she protests its level of heat, prompting Noemie to have another bite from her sugary pastry. "That does look pretty intense! I can't handle heat at ALL." She says. In a VIP booth above lava. Where all the heat rises.

"Well, seems like Alderaan is in the lead." The young fashionista shoots Aryn a quick wink. "The cameras are probably going to turn to this booth if he wins, to see your reaction! Good thing you wore your flashiest top!" A girlish giggle follows this comment as she returns to her pastry.

In the racing pit, DumDum has found a recently-serviced swoop which seemed to the PIT like it needed an extra power converter. PIT droids are the champion of fixing what isn't broken. A half-corroded wire is spliced from the used power converter in its hand into the swoop's electrical system and after fastening it in place along the landing gear, the PIT reaches up with its hydrospanner to activate the bike. The bike screams to life, but the unnecessary modification installed into its electrical system causes its engines to short out.. they short out by activating at full thrust. The swoop bike thrusts forward into a pile of swoops that were still being serviced and a number of them fall over on their sides as the modified swoop's engines fizzle out. 'Hey!' The shout was from a race mechanic. 'Hey, PIT droid! Get over here you little rustbucket!' Realizing its mistake, DumDum quickly ducks beneath a tool cart to delay the mechanic's pursuit, making its way back to the stands!

"If I wound you, sir, search your conscience for a reason why," Colo challenges with a soft click of his tongue. "You continue to deny your audiences your talents. -That- is the real wound," He affirms, albeit with flowery language that he feels is surely picked up from Xavier himself. Or mayhaps the Hapan he's pressed against. Whatever the cursing cause, Colo gets a rein about his tongue post-haste, not least of which is because Kasia makes her introduction to the princeling he's 'guarding' with the obscuring force of his presence. Colo twists to better note the woman and offers her a lazy smile, though his quips remain loaded for bear when Rieve speaks the truest falsehood he's heard yet. "The crowd knows what it wants, but not what it needs, much like a certain singer you're next to, Rieve. Here, though," He remarks, and steers his fizzy-booze on over to the Hapan in another magma-nanimous gesture of complete friendship. "If you're going to be brave and test the meatwumps, at least drain the local brew, too. It'll put hair on someone's chest."

Rather than making him look younger, it only creases the crow's feet more. It's a brilliant row of teeth. Perhaps a bit too much when he smiles this wide, but he wears it well enough. "Kasia Ashkuri, of course. Xavier Harcout." See? Real name. Not rude. "I've frequented your establishment on Nar Shaddaa quite a few times. One of the more cleaner ones, I will add. Well done. /That/ is the true fear accomplished. Though cannot say I've ever owned a piece of real estate in my life, so collateral damage has never been on the forefront of my mind in any of my work."

Ah, but the two men nearby are twittering as birds showing off their plummage do, keeping Xavier's attention enough to counter: "My talents, as they were, are better suited more for tutoring now. Help mold the this generation's next large voice. Though I have been known to collect the odd payment from much smaller venues. When I can spare the time, that is. Admittedly, I've not been on the Smuggler's Moon in some time, so I've not kept abreast of what productions are at the Chance Castle these days. I am due to return to that awful moon soon, I gather. At least there, I can take an educated guess on what the sausages are stuffed with."

In his peripheral, he catches the movements of a woman as she pases; watching her stiffen and look around before shaking it off. Xavier tilts his head in Domino's direction. "If you're worried of the bounty hunter, he went that way." And points in the direction he last saw Hahtavi going. "Big, grumpy Mandalorian sort. Can't miss him, really."

"Rieve Selki, honoured truly." Rieve offers to Kasia, his bowed respectfully as the awkward half-twisted and turned about greeting is offered from between one Xavier and a Colo, "I apologise for turning my back to you, though I'll make what effort I can to avoid rudeness given the seating." And indeed there's a lean against Colo, a nudge of Xavier, and thus there's allowance for a sense of openess in the foursome of chatter. "They are most certainly exciting place to pass through, let alone live. Iffy does not do their systems of justice... justice." That words flow easily, languidly even as Rieve finds his attention drawn to Colo and the offer of booze. These Corellians and their corrupting ways!

"I hope they forgive me for burdening their chest so." And the drink is claimed, eyed but briefly and swigged to wash away the taste of wump. A good glug or two following, and then a relieved gasp of boozy freshness. "That proves to be a fine pairing with the wumps." A nod offered, that grin widening some as he bumps his shoulder against Colo's in jest. Of course with Xavier's apparent neglect of the vocal talents ascribed to him, well Rieve is aghast and looks to the man in affronted horror, as aghast as a languid Hapan can likely be. "You should return, and you should no neglect that talent of which these people speak so highly, to do so is a waste. A terrible waste. A crime no less!" A firm nod given Xavier, before the Hapan glances low to witness excitement on the fiery track. "They are doing amazingly well aren't they? Exciting." The Hapan's grin solidifies for a moment, his blue eyes fixed upon the race.

The return to the paths beneath the surface of the lava lake. The environmental shields expanding to create larger 'caverns' beneath the surface where they 'fail' in places to create brief columns of molten stone pouring down from above, threatening to pool before tumbling through one-way shields.

They go almost as quickly as they come. Floors suddenly open up forcing risky jumps or dangerous swerves to evade a potentially fiery, if brief, end. Synthetic caverns branch into similar tunnels beneath the lava and back into more. The pathway feeling random. Disorienting. A wheeling passage of expanding and contracting paths that open to momentary reprieve with the threat of destruction champing at the heels of it.

The very breath of oblivion chasing the racers to the cheer of the crowds, the music playing in the stands. The light, the spectacle. The absolute pandemonium of excitement let loose.

Domino's eyebrows loft upwards and she looks DEEPLY amused, "All the stars. You know how dumb one has to be to worry about /bounty hunters/? Though between you and I anyone who's wanted showing up at THIS venue deserves EXACTLY what they get. There's a lot of dumb reasons to get shock-netted but THIS would be near the tippy top. Why is that the first guess? Do I look that dumb or-.." She spots Kasia and she ooooooooooooohs, "IT was just topical, I see." she looks around again and calls towards Kasia "Is Dadbod here?" She might not have fretted about a bounty hunter but the prospect of this 'Dadbod' seems to have her somewhat more alert and anxious-where as before she simply looked annoyed. As if perhaps she'd been stood up or found herself on a wild bantha chase.

As the trap doors start to open up beneath them, Ejnar slows a bit. Perhaps too cautious for his own good he gives up some ground to those behind him in favor of not wrecking his brand new bike. Of course he wasn't sure id his wife, the honorable and beautiful Lady Vega, would be cross or happy that he cared so much for her creation. She put so much time into it after all. A thoughtful husband he was.

He steadies his breath, forcing an even rhythm as some of the paths he takes narrow down to mere millimeters of turning space. Perhaps he choose the wrong path. It didn't matter, he wasn't splattered against rocks or melting in molten lava. He was alive. He was still in this race. He leaned forwards and tightened this thigh's grip on the seat. Focused.

Can anyone blame Colo for rolling his eyes again? Xavier's words give him plenty of reason to, yet the gambler strives his best to keep his opinions to himself. Rather than lob another, much-needed barb Xav's way, Colo spends his moments peering at the next dash of swoops, wincing when Aconaa takes a hard curve, hissing in sympathy as the other racers keep bracing ahead. None have fallen yet, and he's counting on that if he's to win his best today. Colo's jostled from his reverie only by the nudge of the Hapan to his side and Rieve, at least, earns a warm smile from the distracted Corellian. "Their chest will survive," He promises, though seems to be waiting on Rieve's latest food review with bated breath. What comes up is...not expected. The booze is -awful-, but maybe Hapan tastes differ? Or maybe Corellians' do? He's unsure and gives a skeptical look, then takes another hit of the alcohol just to be sure. The sour look on his face confirms his real thoughts, though he hisses another comment soon enough. "Maybe he needs to drink from this too. Clear his head a bit. Gah. You want the rest, Rieve?"

Kasia notes the smile from Colo and answers in kind, though the smile falters a touch at the mention of meat lumps. "I'm sorry, there's something here called meat lumps? I..." She searches for the correct words, and doesn't find them right away. Instead she shakes her head. "I suppose it's good I want neither meat lumps, or hair on my chest." She hugs the snacks she does have a little closer. Good snacks. Safe snacks. Okay, safeish snacks. Not healthy snacks. It's just the illusion of safety here, really, but nothing is named lump so she's content with that much.

The look of recognition from Xavier is met with a slightly broader smile, she knows the look. "Thank you. We've worked hard to keep it as nice there as we can. Until we had that I had never owned anything that was quite so at risk of damage, so I didn't really appreciate just how annoying it can be. It's just a part of the peril of property on Nar Shaddaa, though."

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Rieve." The concern for rudeness is waved off without concern. "I inserted myself into your conversation from back here. I can hardly get upset when you're sat in your seat the right way. I appreciate the kindness, though." She shoots a glance over at Domino and shakes her head. "He's not at the race. He and Boon are off elsewhere on some adventure."

Mandl could teach Ejnar too, medal or no-- never drive anything too precious. (Anyway people will say it was the bike, and not the skill and experience of the pilot!) thusly they charge senselessly onward, 0s and 1s firing from onboard computers into their driver-uplink, surely there to be rendered in deceptively-simple CGI. As but one of the racers whose bikes, plural, have sustained significant damage, they're operating on pure grit and moxie!

After her near-miss, Aconaa was playing it safe. Well, safer than she was anyway. With the bottom of her swoop already melted off in particular, she was pretty set on just taking the swerving paths around those open pools of lava instead of trying to make any jumps. With no shields at all between them and the lava though she could -really- feel the heat. Thankfully, riding her swoop, she wasn't near any one pool for any length of time, but she could feel her swoopsuit heating up around her and it was getting hard to breath.

"I certainly hope not, he deserves all the attention!" Aryn says back, laughing at Noemie's notion that cameras would pan toward the viewing suite to gauge their reactions. Noemie's estimation is the same as Aryn's as the race looks to be drawing to a close. Aryn finishes her skewer and raises her wine. There's a touch of anxiety as it becomes unclear who would claim victory from this one!

Embraced by a herglic and enamored with the spectacle, when the racers sweep through dangerous tunnels he and the other are on their feet with the zelosian being hauled up into the air bodily while still under one arm. Cheering wildly, Qutha has one arm going the other pinned to the large non-human's body - both aliens chanting,

"GO! FAST! GO! FAST! GO! FAST! GO! FAST! GO! FAST!" and whooping before alternating who drinks from the veritable tub of grain alcohol that the orchardist is still keeping from spiling in all of the wildness at hand.

There might even be a YEE-HAW in there.

"I tend not to judge stupidity at a glance. Actions do better for a guage. Even so, I imagine those with a price on their heads seek a little rest and relaxation as the rest of us. And--" Xavier raises a finger of point "--let's be honest here. Wouldn't that be just so exciting to see a someone getting stun batoned three rows down? I pose that it is every wayward criminal's duty to make their capture an entertaining one." He does catch Colo's eye roll and takes it as a triumph. "Captain, Your Highness. If it means that much to you, I will let you both know when I'm next on Nar Shaddaa and I will do my level best to live up to the expectations. If it will spare me your dissatisfaction. But I will likely ask a favor in return."

Someone mentions the race and Xavier deigns to look up at the screen with a frown. None of the names have been X'd out yet and all speeders are still screaming through the hellfire track. "A shame, really. You'd have thought one would have crashed by now." He does look between Kasia and Domino's conversation as it seems everyone knows everyone in this section. Must be the Smuggler's Moon section.

Domino exhales and deflates in clear relief, "Good to know." she tosses her pony tail over her shoulder, "Fear not, Between Dadbod and you no one's asking for that trouble. Or maybe they just love the establishment like I do." she frowns a bit "There was a fight there once. Fizzpop machine got shot up. That kicked up my dander but apparently not enough I even remember what happened or why. I was hiding behind the bar and trying to find a back way out. I could be wrong but I think Dadbod dealing with the riffraff did most of the damage. Anyone who had tickets to THAT show for sure told everyone they knew NOT to start trouble in the Blue Light."

Her eyebrows loft and her head tilts as she sizes up Xavier, "Ahhh, you're a chaos harlot are you?" She gives a careless shrug and moves to find an empty perch as she abandons whatever had her weaving through the crowd "Like all the best fruits it does better with a bit of cultivation."

There is a pause as large hazel eyes focus on the screen, "Wait-is that MANDL? How in all the stars does he have time for his nerdery AND racing?" a glance over her shoulder towards Kasia implies the question is for the business woman.

Rieve's breath catches at the excitement down below, with Aconaa's skimming of a hard turn, while excellent skill seems on show all down the tiers of drivers and pilots who command those exceptionally explosive rockets upon which they are seated. "I think the meatwump has killed every last tastebud upon my refined Hapan tongue. That beer was exquisite." Oh the Hapan looks mortified, though in a decidedly good-humoured manner as he regards Colo warmly, though a hand is raised as to the offer of more booze, and Rieve is likely pondering something to cleanse the palate. "I am thankful for the wondrously generous offer, but please, it's yours." There's a brief pause and a glimpse of a faintly lopsided smirk. "I insist."

To Kasia, Rieve tilts once more to offer a warm smile, before looking back to the racer's and their derring do! "I would not mind trying one of those swoops at some point, though I can barely sit astride that headless nerf on Nar Shaddaa... perhaps I need to practice some?" The graceful Hapan asks, head-tilting as he witnesses turns and swerves and swoops aplenty. Even gasping audibly at some moves. As to Xavier, the Hapan nods but once before casting his gaze towards him. "I insist and I certain you'll exceed them, undoubtedly."

Noemie wiggles her brows playfully at the Princess while finishing up her pastry. Though it's true that this is the racer's day, the ratings practically demanded they get a shot of the royal Cortess at race's end. Washing away the sweet treat with a small sip of Naboo Blossom, the seamstress settles in, switching legs so that the opposite is now crossing over the first. A look was given to the others about the room. Not just the attendants but the Lords and Ladies in attendance, particularly to the attire they'd worn to the show. Noemie had no idea that her PIT was currently making an escape into the stands down below, using its dated sensor systems to find Peaches by telemetry and navigate itself toward the VIP booths up top. She also had no idea that when she gets back to Naboo tomorrow, she'll have an invoice for four damaged swoop bikes to be paid immediately.

It's a good thing she'd only traveled with ONE of her PITs today.

"Meat -wumps-," Colo corrects, though he instantly detests the flavor of the word, nevermind the correction. He shudders and hoists the half-filled bag of inexplicably still-warm treats behind him and towards Kasia in offer. "Try one, you'll hate me later," He promises with a simple, solemn nod and studied acceptance of Rieve's latest rejection. "Oh, of course. All mine. You insist." His sour expression from another hit of the local brew hasn't quite stifled itself, but he's trying his best to pull out of the dive, much as Aconaa's deft swoopery does. What does lift him out is Xavier's promise to him and Rieve. He grins at that, displaying the typical roy of too-perfect, prettyboyish teeth that gleam in the sultry air of the arena. "Now -that- is a wager I'm willing to take. We'll have to talk favors. Right, Rieve?" He quizzes with a little peek towards his Hapan helper.

The peek towards the princeling seems to jog Colo's memory and he soon sweeps through his jacket. Deft digits produce a datapad that's a newer model, all decked out in a protective shield and easily operated by one hand. That same, unencumbered grip of his hugs tight to the device as he elbows at Rieve. "Hey, you mind getting a quick holo with me? Wanna let someone know what they're missing," He urges and presses in closer, wholly intent on mugging for the holo alongside the blue-tinged Hapan.

The raceway opens at last from lava and back to the outer ring that surrounds the lake. Finally out of the blazing heat and returning to the sweltering heat! The crowd roars and Gutu Phlu is bouncing about his platform excitedly.

"LOOK FOLKS! LOOK! NOT A RACER LOST! A RECORD FOR THE LAVA LAKE ARENA! THEY'RE MAKING THEIR FINAL TURNS!"

Check-board patterns created by holo-emitters are forming on the track, starting in shades of cool blue when halfway towards the final curve of the track. The darker blue slowly growing in brightness, shifting in hue, paling. The pattern suggesting the coming of the black and white board for the finish line.

"IT'S HAPPENING! THEY'RE COMING UP NOW! WHO IS GOING TO TAKE RACE FOUR?!?" the fervor comes with more pyrotechnics. More sparks, streamers and glitter confetti raining down over the crowds. From the private boxes to the general seating. A blizzard of colours reflected from the lights and all around the arena.

When the course let up into the straight away towards the finish Ejnar brought his entire body in and made himself as small as-possible. Not only did this reduce drag, it made his swoop look like some lump monster. The swoop suited Alderaanian Lord like some parasite feasting upon the reverberating roaring motor of the Celchu Shadowbird Racer.

He pushed the throttle to full, as full as it could be without destabilizing the balancing repulsors. Rocks sparked, giving way to molten lava beneath the hardened crust as the invisible lifts pushed against the surface and propelled him forwards. He tightened every muscle in his body.

Mandl's melted, scuffed 'ScootyPuff Jr. brand' junk-heap is, certainly against *some* odds, holding together in that selfsame final stretch! Slamming their hooves on the accelerators and opening the throttle, their stated intention to finish the race in a single uninjured piece is all! too! tantalizingly! close!

"A lot of people try to step up to Hex in a fight, few enough succeed to make it a regular occurrence," Kasia agrees with Domino, nodding a touch. The mention of the headless nerf coaxes out another smile. "You are welcome to come and try that as often as you'd like. Eventually we've got to get that head replaced, but the machine appears to be a kind of one of a kind custom job that we just happened to get second hand, and finding unique parts like the head have been tricky. I'm sure I could have one custom made somewhere, and probably will eventually."

The offer from Colo of meat ... wumps has her freeze like a deer in headlights as she looks at the offered food. "Okay." She braces herself and reaches into the package to pull out a piece, eyeing the thing cautiously, as though it might bite her. And it might. There is a calculation going on behind her eyes of whether or not she wants to eat it, or fling it into the crowd while no one is looking, and that look just intensifies when she has the food in hand. "If I have to see a doctor after this..." Deep breath, and then she pulls the wump in for a sniff, and then the daintiest of nibbles.

"You could say that chaos and I are, at the very least, next door neighbors," the dark-haired man replies with an affirming nod. "Survival calls for all manner of interesting bedfellows." With that, Xavier has fallen quiet; content to simply listen ot the conversations going on around him. Mainly the two closes to him. Colo and Rieve are probably leaning in close to do some kind of holomessage. And then there's an exclamation of surprise about one of the racers.

Xavier looks up at the screens to see the proceedings -- that same stoic expression he had before the event started. Tap, tap, tap goes the finger on his boot. A padded rhythm against worn leather. Nar Shaddaa. Indeed. He will have to go back and very soon. You can almost see him cursing the universe for that fact.

Getting away from the open lava pools in that 'cavern' was a welcome change of pace. As she turns into that outer ring, Aconaa pushes the engines to their limit again. Which, given the earlier damage, wasn't necessarily the best idea. Landing struts were melted off. Brakes weren't working too great either. And here she was, coming up on the finish line at top speed. The breeze actually felt kinda nice at this point. Even if it was all hot air still.

Of course, going at full speed like that, with her swoop damaged, there was the issue of -stopping- to take care of. Luckily she had an idea for that. And not necessarily a good one either! As her swoop comes up on the finish line she suddenly slams it into the track and turns it on its side, skidding sideways and slightly tilted in that final stretch with sparks flying from the bottom of her swoop as that friction starts to grind her speeding swoop to a stop.

"Plural wumps? Oh dear." The pale Hapan pales slightly, the prospect sets his stomach into a faint little gurgle of discomfort, and for an instant, Rieve simply exhales oh so slowly and lets slip the faintest of delicate grunts. Yet the Hapan has travelled widely, and these wumps won't finish him off! Not a singular wump, nor many a wump. Slithering in their gravy ecosystem like lil' savoury slugs. The Hapan is made of stern stuff. There is some mischievous delight in the face Colo pulls once he takes another good swig of that awful beer, and that soon changes to join Colo in the prettyboy smile that seeks to warm Xavier's heart as to that promise! "Absolutely. You can't back out now. We might have to set a bounty otherwise."

That said, Colo's rummaging for that datapad and the prospect of a holo with Colo. A Coloholo. A holo o' Colo. A holoColo. Well it's too much to resist and the Hapan twists to settle and lean back in against Colo's side, all the better to ensure a fine holo. "Of course! Say wumps? Wumps!" Lightly pouty lips, half-lidded eyes, gap-toothed barely there smile. The artful lounging, the perfectly mussed blue hair. Oh the Hapan is amazingly hologenic beside Colo. Also there's the delight in knowing that Colo's wumps are migrating towards Kasia. A herd of wumps? Or to start with, possibly just one. You have to start somewhere.

Domino's lips press and her head tilts, sizing up Xavier carefully and considering her next question thoughtfully, "How so?" she chortles softly "You look like you need a drink." gold-flexed gaze flicks a glance towards Kasia, "You are so much more trusting than I am. Good luck to you on the gastric roullette, Kasia."

Aryn, among many of the other nobles, have risen up from their seats to stand by the glass of the suite to watch the final approach. Cheers from all echo for Celchu. Alderaanian flags begin to wave with enthusiasm. Aryn is off to one side of it, laughing at all the vigor. She has long passed off her wine to free her hands to clap for Ejnar. "Wooooooo!" She yells, "Come on, Ejnar!!" She offers a goofy expression toward Noemie, and motions for the Naboo to join her by the window.

Set down at last, zelosian and herglic are dancing about excitedly, the whale-like creature chomping down on a plate of meat lumps and sharing some out to Qutha who happily licks the nutrient gravy off of his fingers.

"OH! SAKES LOOKIT THAT!" Qutha shouts over the crowd to his new compatriot, "OH THEY'S ALL THERE! BLESS THEIR HEARTS!" sharing out his drink to the other and the pair drinking a lopsided toast. One drinking and then the next. The closer the racers get to the finish line the more excited their combined cheering.

Colo winces as Kasia makes a Horrible Mistake(!) by accepting the meatwump. What transpires, at least for her, is likely the most disappointing thing in the world: it's perfectly serviceable, uninspiring, and with a glaze that's just a little too thick. Seems like the Corellian might just have too refined a palate for this sort of junk food and that goes double for the booze he regards as if it's betrayed him. Mercifully, he loses any disregard for the horrid snack in favor of making sure he looks at his best or at least his least-worst for the holocam.

"You're the second-best, Rieve," Colo praises the Hapan and says, approvingly: "Wumps!" How can someone say such a thing so exuberantly? Probably because the ill-tasting--to him--bag of wumps is out of his custody and with some other, unlucky soul. Colo adopts a smoldering, too-easy expression that makes him look good in Rieve's presence. Dark and light, green and blue mix together and Colo hits the holo, immediately crafting a dozen-plus different takes which he'll filter through later for the perfect one. The datapad is soon stuffed back into his jacket and, in thanks? He smiles and gives the Hapan a solid nudge. "Thanks. Important to let Valeska know what she's missing out on." A pause and he plasters a big grin back on his face before stating the obvious: "Us."

There was something to be said, for the bravery it took to take to a battlefield such as the swoop racing track was turning out to be, and perhaps for that reason alone, Amaia remained in her seat, once again lifting a hand to wave off the offer of food or drink. She did, however, understanding that hawkers needed credits to pay their way, hence the insistence, place a few credits into the basket that was attached to the tray of what could only be considered delicacies wiggling in disposable cups. If the Bith on fire had not elicited the scent of calamari, these certainly did to everyone and anyone in the range of their pong.

The tapping stops. Brown eyes float towards Domino with his own appraisal if briefly. How so? "A bit difficult to explain, but in truth I am of the mind that there's a bit a chaos in everyone. Only takes the right circumstances to bring it out. So it's really not much of a stretch in the long run." Next to him, the two men are mugging for the holo with an exhuberant 'Wumps!' and that seems to be Xavier's cue to rise.

"It has been a pleasure, but if I am going to be adhering to a touring schedule again, I've some things I must attend to first. And that does not include getting locked up in hangar waiting for someone to move their freighter. So I will bid you all a good day. Captain, Your Highness. I'm sure I will see you at some point. Kasia, please bring the imitation bantha riblet sandwich back. And Miss---" He pauses on Domino, not having her name. "You seem to like nicknames. Let's call you Brazen, mm? Meant with utmost respect, I assure you, and I will endeavor to remember it. Should we cross paths again."

The racers cross the line in a blur, lightning flashing would be as fast and it's only by the cameras and displays that anything can be made out when the order of those past the black and white checks is discovered. The faces of the racers and their positions in bold numbers and bright flashing colors

"GENTLEBEINGS! EJNAR CELCHU TAKES RACE FOUR!" his face, then Aconaa's coming up and with each more cheering and more streamers erupt; fired by favors held by members of the crowd. Noisemakers. Obnoxious horns. All of it bordering on a riot from the sheer, raw, emotion permeating the crowds.

"ACONAA! FOLLOWED BY PASHIL AND MANDL B'ROT!" more faces, more names, more confetti and streamers with a swelling of music and then the final passers of Zaid and Syooko are displayed with the finish line blazing gold. No crowds can surge the field, but the finishing platform is raised, moved away from potential danger and all lights focus on the swoopers who have finished their race and survived the lava lake.

"ONE MORE RACE, GENTLEBEINGS! ONE. MORE. RACE. JOIN US NEXT TIME FOR RACE FIVE OF THE JERVO'S WORLD CUP! WHERE WE WILL CROWN THE JERVO'S WORLD CHAMPION!"

Ejnar's swoop comes to a top In a sparking slide much like Aconaa, she likely hot on his heels. It takes a moment as the roar of the crowd masks the announcement of his Victory. It takes looking up at the big screen, seeing himself in it, and the text there for him to realize he'd won this one.

Relief washes over Lord Celchu, grabbing the front of the swoop ad leaning back. He looks up at the false sky above and sighs. Then, turning ff the bike, he walks it over to his birth and back to his R2 droid. One more. One more for the glory of Alderaan.

Domino gives Xavier a sweet smile and flutters her lashes doing her best to look vacant-eyed and vapid as possible, "Peaches." She fingerwaves, "Toodles, Havoc." her gaze tracks his retreat, "Wonder why he looked like he just smelled a stale gammorean fart." She gives a shrug and abandons her curiosity and instead looks to Kasia "Seriously-has anyone been dumb enough to try to collect that bounty?"

It might have sounded like small arms fire coming from the Alderaanian section, but it was champagne bottles being opened in celebration of the Lord's victory! Cheering, flags, clapping, screaming.. it all took place, and a once posh and regulated sections has transformed into pandemonium and excitement. Even Winter Celchu allows a moment to clap for her son. Not bad, kid. Not bad.

Kasia tries not to grimace as she tastes the wump. It mostly works. This was a mistake, and for now she just holds what remains between two fingers, reaping the reward of her bad decision. "It's... the name fits." She looks back to Xavier, amused, "I'll see what I can do." Professional speak for 'maybe'. As he prepares to depart, he gets another smile and a wump riddled wave. "Nice to have met you." The question from Domino is answered first with a shake of her head. "Not yet. Money talks though, I'm sure eventually someone will."

Bottom of her swoop now somehow slightly more melted than it was before, Aconaa lets it fall over as she stands up from it and quickly undoes the straps on her helmet, struggling for a moment to get it up and off her head. When it's finally off she takes in a deep breath and shakes her head. She was covered in sweat. She gives a thumbs up to the other racers before turning her attention to the damage to her swoop and grumbling. "Great, going to need to find a specialist for this, that's for damn sure..." Old, rare swoop, with that much damage? It was a good thing she had more than one, because odds were it was sitting the next race out. Whenever that might be. She had finished the race though, survived and even taken second place for her effort. Could be worse. A lot worse.

Noemie had similarly handed her glass off when she stood at the invitation of Aryn and joined her nearer to the window. As the Alderaanians around her cheered for their pilot, Noemie couldn't help but smile at the cultural expression of those around her. Had there been a Naboo in the race it's likely she'd feel the same fervor for that racer. She claps for each of the racers as they cross the line, the people in her immediate vicinity thunderously when their champion places first! Champagne glasses are passed around and Noemie accepts one, waiting for the others to indulge first before doing so herself. Cheering next for the Togruta, Noemie feels a pang of heartache at seeing the pretty pink swoop scuffed up and in need of repairs. (Thank goodness it's nowhere near DumDum). Cheering as well for the rest of the racers, the Bith as well, she offers a wide smile to Aryn and those gathered around her. "Congratulations!" Due to her being called so near to the window, if that camera pan came to gauge Aryn Cortess' reaction to the Alderaanian victor, Noemie herself would likely be part of the shot. It's a good thing she doesn't realize this or her pale skin would grow quite red!

The finish comes and even the ithorian is up with Qutha and the Herglic in the celebrations. Blowing a horn like lowing from both of the mouths on the sides of its' neck. Party poppers have come out and the area is just covered in celebratory refuse now while the trio join a quartet, a septuplet, so many.

If people 'back home' could see Qutha right now. Lost in the moment and riding on the waves all around him.

This was the reason to go out and do what he had to do at times. People, enjoying a moment and waiting for the next.

"I'm certain such an image will ensure her attendance at the next race." Rieve offers as he finally ceases mugging for the datapad and settles back into his seat, only for Xavier to take his leave, and for Rieve to offer a gentle and respectful bow of sorts from his seated position. "Safe travels and have a bright day without equal, though I feel that loses some nuance in translation." Of course, as the race comes to a truly amazing end, Rieve pushes himself up to applaud the racers, he's not shouting, nor cheering, but he is certainly beaming at the sheer skill shown by those who have traversed lava and certain death. "Now that was swoop racing." The warm words flowing so easily, drifting fluidly in close and quick succession, that Hapan accent showing a definite hint of excitement. To Colo, the Hapan 'noble' grins and offers a deferential bow, hand against chest, robes billowing lightly. "It's been a pleasure also, such a delightful coincidence, and my regards to your most significent other."