Whiskey and Philosophy

"Of course it's a lonely existence, I'm a Sith Lord. My only friend in the galaxy is drunk on the other side of this couch."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, nursing the tight feeling behind her eyes. The water she continued to gulp down helped her out but she got up and rummaged around his quarters until she found something for pain. It wouldn't hurt to get ahead of the hangover she was sure to have. The headache taken care of, she came back to the couch and delved into a pouch she carried, bringing out a pack of cigarettes, worn and so old it looked like she rarely ever took them out. The cigarettes were flattened and bent, but it did not seem to stop her from screwing one in her lips and lighting it with one of his matches. She exhaled a long stream of smoke, blowing it between her lips like a pouty chimney. She relished the flavor of it, the feeling of the pollution swirling around her lungs and delivering that jolt of soothing nicotine to her blood. It was divine, it was heavenly and it reinvigorated her for the conversation. She gestured at him with her right hand, cigarette held firmly between her index and middle fingers.

"Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it."

Sinistra busted out laughing so hard that her belly shakes lasted for at least a minute. She wiped her eyes and took another drag of the cigarette, letting the smoke dribble out of her lips between giggles. She ground the cigarette butt out into a nearby ashtray and decided to prove to him that propositioning her was probably a really bad idea.

She leaned towards him, crawling across the couch to stop right next to him. The scoop of the tank top neck showed off her assets this way, her flesh firm and plump for her age. There was a beguiling smile on her face and a deliciously decadent twinkle in her eye as though she were a game cat looking down her next meal. Her teeth were starkly white against her lips, and the scent of her perfume mixed with the whiskey on her breath.

"Sugar. You're a virgin and you admitted you don't like yanking your own chain. You wouldn't last a minute in my hands. All I have to do is touch you and breathe something husky in your ear and you're done."

With a devilish grin, she leaned in close, her long nails drawing up his inner thigh, her warm breath on his ear and her body pressed against him for just as as long as it took her to whisper.

"Zere iz nothzing jou can offa me in ze zack zhat iz vorth destroyink ze only friendtship I haf in ze galaxzy."

Chuckling, she retreats to her side of the couch, picking up her whiskey and taking another sip. She had purposely mimicked Major's tone and accent, albeit not perfect but a close enough approximation that it would have been passable. She shook her head at him, his bravado commendable but she had been down this road before. There was nothing even remotely satisfying about deflowering a virgin.

"Quit trying to get me to have sex with you. One, it'll be weird afterward because you'll be ashamed. Two, save it for your girlfriend. Sex is a tool for me, but it ain't so for everyone else. Major and you can share a lovely awkward moment together and bond over the experience. I'll just laugh at you, and tell you I was right."

"That's why I make the big bucks." She chuckled as she took another sip of the glass in her hand. The awkward silence stretched out a bit longer as she tried to forget about him making a pass at her. Not that she wasn't flattered by his attentions, but she had also laid it bare for him. Sex was a tool. That is until you cared about the other person. Sex was never tool between her and Reverance. It would not have been a tool between her and Eralam. She cared about the fallen whill like a brother, something mildly funny since he predated her existence for thousands of years and yet she was the one who felt he needed to be protected. His body coursed with the power of the galaxy, he was without a doubt the most powerful being she had ever encountered but she felt his psyche was more vulnerable than he let on. If she let him goad her into it, there would be disappointment and shame in both their eyes afterwards. It was not an idea she wanted to entertain, now or ever. He was her friend and that was more than enough to make what humanity she had left feel decent for half a second. It was nice to not have to be so guarded all the time, but soon enough she would be back on her end of the universe and her defenses would be back up.

Her drunken mind tripped and fumbled over itself a couple times, trying to shake off the ghosts of crushing loneliness to find something articulate to say, something to bring them back from the precipice of what might have been. Nothing was really standing out in the befuddled mess of her thoughts and the silence was getting to be painful. She started talking, if that was what it could be called, for truly it was rambling and drunken rambling at that. "I could never forget the first time with Rev. It was hasty and a long time coming, there were stares across crowded rooms and all that hokey stuff that they put into romance movies. We argued over stupid things like philosophy and the Sith Code, and I called him an old geezer and threw pinecones at him because shit, why not. Then it happened, it was sudden, one day I just stopped being mad at him for his superior attitude and I realized that I wanted him. And then it was awkward then it was fiery and then it happened. And when you finally have that moment with someone you care about, it changes everything. Everything. Everything stood still, looking in his eyes and feeling every touch and whisper and breath, it all made the voices stop. Everything stopped except for us and Bogan's beard did I want that to go on forever. It was perfect, it was everything and I would pay dearly of blood and flesh to be able to have that again. To silence the doubt and the voices and know that you are loved and protected. Don't sell that short. Don't cheapen with someone else. Sex can be a tool or it can be the key to your mental prison. Rev is mine. And I can't find him."

The realization of her ramble clicked in and she blinked deliberately a couple times, changing the subject as quickly as she could. "So where'd you dig up that lot of ragamuffins?"

"Come on. You don't get to where I am unless you can keep huge secrets and have an extensive intelligence network. Sense is telling me that if you can't protect from this then I should walk away. But what the hell, you only live once." Her joking smile faded and the face of dark lord became serious, her jaw set in stoic determination. It became frighteningly obvious immediately why she commanded such power and respect among the darkling throng. "I solemnly swear on the life of my beloved, your secrets die with me."

Whatever it was, it had to be big. While Sith had a tendency to betray those around them in the pursuit of power, this felt distinctly different. Eralam was freely telling her, knowing that kind of person she was, and also warning her against the temptation of telling anyone where she got such juicy information. If the price was silence, she was more than happy to pay it. Secrets were her best friends. Well, besides him.

"You mean some of them survived? What would they have to do with this?" She was puzzled about how the Shards' continued survival would factor into his plans. Shards, even when they were known were extremely secluded on Orax and usually did not leave their hive minded colonies. She looked curiously at Eralam, pouring herself more whiskey. She was intrigued, something she relished in. She liked a good mystery on occasion.

"So, there is a spy network of Shards? Why don't they do home and rejoin the colonies? Everyone believes them decimated." Sinistra was starting to see how Eralam got his wealth of information. If the shards were disbursed through the galaxy disguised as droids, the possibilities were endless. She nodded her approval at the ingeniousness of his hard work. Her contacts were vast but were mortal and subject to the whims of money and changing political ties. A shard was much better suited to the task of information gathering. "Your secret is safe with me. So they are the ones who dug up that crew of revolutionaries for your plot? They have interesting tastes, that's for sure."

"I see. Just calling in a favor for you. And here I just thought you naturally knew everything." She breezed over his indignant thoughts regarding the treatment of the Shards. She was not the one who had ordered their destruction, she felt no personal remorse for the turn of events that had befallen them anymore than she felt personally responsible for Order 66. Stuff before her time held no sway over her, although the pain of it all seemed fresh for him, a wound that still bled no matter the time or gauze applied. She swirled the alcohol in the glass, watching the legs drain back into the pool on the bottom before she raised to wet her lips and lubricate her tongue further.

"And this Adarlon. What after it? Why start this now? What balance do you seek upend that has not already been kicked over by me or the Mandalorians or the tide of crinimals that flows ever present from beyond the grasp of the Republic?"

"Palpatine's plight against the Shards was long before I was born, and I haven't cried a peep to you about the Mandalorians, have I? Even if they kill all of us, the Force will continue as it does among them. Am I willing to throw my life down before them? No, of course not. I'm cast as the villain more times than not, remember? I should not expect the cattle to care if the rancher is suddenly wiped out. Nor do I expect you to care. If you're going to pull the empathy card, we're both sorely outclassed there. Your people have persevered from their ordeals, much as we all must."

She took a long drink of the whiskey, the burn igniting her throat again as she scowled at his indignant attitude. There were certain points when she had been drinking that were she to be angered, it would turn messy for those who happened to be around her. The dark expression on her face was the front of the coming storm. She could be distracted from her building wrath with a amiable change of subject or the topic could march onwards and greet her bitter frost head first.