Log Date:
	5/30, 5/31/97

Log Cast:
	Shenneret Veery, Paul Nighman, Li Hua (NPC), Alleria (NPC)

Log Intro:
	Paul and Shenner have gone to the University to meet with Paul's
father and acquire the Mandalorian artifacts that Paul seeks -- but neither
of them expected that Dr. Nighman, incensed over their behavior on his
couch that morning, would try to disown Paul as a son and deny him the
items. Startling both Nighmans, a wrathful Shenner has risen to Paul's
defense, and she left the two men to try to work out their differences,
but Paul has retaliated against his father by disowning _him_ instead
despite the older man's inner shame at his treatment of his son. But Dr.
Nighman has also changed his mind and allowed them access to the artifacts,
and before the old scholar can change his mind yet again, Paul has
opted to pack up the items he wants and cart them off to an inn he
knows... and get his and Shenner's belongings out of his father's house.

---------
The girl follows after, lengthening her stride to keep up with her friend and 
  the unit he's hauling along. But Shen's brow crinkles under her forelock as 
  she watches Paul, and she can't help wondering what was said in his father's 
  office after she'd left....

As they draw closer and closer to the house in question, Paul becomes more and 
  more tense. He tries to hide it, his walk falling into a swagger, his eyes 
  "casually" looking about, but there is something too forced about his step, 
  his random glances more suspicious darts. When they finally arrive he pauses 
  for a moment and then passes the cart to Shenner without even looking at 
  her. "I'll get the stuff, you stay here," he orders softly.

"Sure thing," Shenner murmurs, very quietly.

It only takes a few minutes, but it probably seems an eternity  to Shen. When 
  Paul emerges from the house, he is carrying all of the rest of their 
  belongings, albiet awkwardly. He sets them down on top of the lift and then 
  turns back to look at the house, his eyes very dark with emotion. He didn't 
  think it was going to be this hard, but seeing the couch, all of the things 
  in his room that he didn't have the time or the strength to try to pack up 
  .... he had grabbed the few little models that he had built, the picture of 
  his mother ... just the few obvious momentos, but the rest would have to be 
  sacrificed. His throat was tight, and again he could feel the prick of tears 
  that he forced back down. _Enough ... I will be in control of my emotions 
  for a change. I left this place once, I can leave it twice. No big deal_ 
  Turning sharply he manages to force air through his vocal chords, enough to 
  say, "Let's get outta here."

"Sure thing," Shenner murmurs again, falling into step opposite Paul on the 
  lift's other side, helping to propel it along with the hand by which she's 
  grabbed it. As she walks with Paul, she can't help but study him sidelong, 
  and the girl surreptitiously chews at the inside of her lower lip. _He's 
  closing himself off... what happened back there?_

Paul doesn't say a word, not along the entire journey to the hotel. His gaze 
  is inwardly focused - he sees where he is going, enough to navigate his way, 
  but the focal point of the rest of his attention remains uncertain. Paul's 
  mind flits back and forth between the research he is soon going to be 
  immersed in, and his actions from this morning. Although he keeps trying to 
  steer his thoughts away from what was said by both of them, his mind keeps 
  thwarting him, peering curiously and picking at the freshly forming scab of 
  memory. It was one thing to leave in the heat of passion at the age of 17, 
  full of ideals and spite. Now he was leaving, this time for good, and 
  although it was still done in a fit of passion, it was a more informed 
  decision now ... and the decision of an adult.

Taking her cue from Paul as she follows him away from the University, into the 
  city, and towards the hotel he's chosen, Shenner too remains quiet, but 
  keeps a steady eye on her friend. Seeing the way his expression has hardened 
  across his lean face, the girl inwardly winces -- and still wonders, even as 
  they reach their destination, whether her rash speech to Dr. Nighman didn't 
  have something to do with this.

Paul doesn't enter the main city, but instead turns down Tailspin Ave, heading 
  toward Lagoon Park. He finally slows down his pace at a building that looks 
  more like a house than a hotel. There is a handpainted sign the reads, "Kind 
  Hearts and Coronets". Looking at Shen for the first time since they left 
  they left the house, he merely jerks his head, trying to clear his face and 
  smile, but it comes out kinda crooked. "This is the place," he murmurs and 
  then heads for the stairs leading up and in.

Shen's answering smile is rather broader, as much fueled by Paul's own attempt 
  at a better mood as it is that they've come to where he intends to go. 
  Lifting an eyebrow at the sign, she lopes up the stairs along with the 
  Corellian. "This don't look nothin' like the hotel you were in on Palanhi..."

Paul shrugs as he opens the door. "Well, it's more like a bed and breakfast," 
  he explains. "It has a nicer view of the ocean than the hotel proper has, 
  and it's nicer, more relaxed and charming ... besides, the owner is an old 
  friend of the family," he notes softly, a bittersweet note ringing through 
  the casual gruffness.

How to find the proper balance between the urge to give him space and the urge 
  to grab him and cradle him in her arms? Shenner supposes the best she can do 
  is to glue herself to Paul's side without _looking_ like she's trying to be 
  pitying. _If he wants to tell me about it, he will,_ she thinks. _In the 
  meantime, better be, well, normal!_ So she deliberately relaxes herself, and 
  casts a green glance around the lobby of the place to which Paul has brought 
  her. "Sounds great," she answers.

Walking up to the front desk he leans against the counter and a young woman 
  with long black hair comes out from an office way. At first she smiles 
  politely and asks, "Yes, can I help you?" but then her professional smile 
  gives way to a surprised and affectionate one and she takes a closer look at 
  the man in front of her and asks, "Paul? Paul Nighman, is it really you?" 
  Paul gives the woman a sheepish grin and murmurs, "Wow, Li Hua, you've 
  really changed." The lovely woman, all slim and willowly of form with sun 
  darkened skin and upturned eyes smiles. "I'm not the only one I see," she 
  notes wryly.

Shen quirks another brow -- how many young women does Paul _know_ in Coronet, 
  anyway? She tries not to smirk, and waits there by the anti-grav lift, 
  fidgeting at her ocarina pendant with one hand.

The long hair flows forward and she places her elbows casually on the desk. 
  She looks at Paul frankly, but not appraisingly as many other women have. 
  She tilts her head to one side and asks, "So, does mother know you're here 
  yet?" Paul shakes his head mutely and Li Hua straightens with a smile, 
  pulling out the register. "Well, make sure you say "hi" at breakfast time 
  ... she'll have a fit if she finds out you are here and didn't come to see 
  her. How long has it been anyway?" Paul's jaw tightens subtly, but his voice 
  is velvet smooth when he replies, "Nine years since I've been here for 
  anything more than a quick stop-over between runs."

Curiosity getting the better of her, Shenner audibly clears her throat.

Jolting slightly, Paul flushes and moves aside. "Damn," he mutters, "I'm sorry 
  ... Li Hua, this is Shenner, Shenner, this is Li Hua ... we were in school 
  together some and ..." Li finishes for Paul, reaching out a hand in a polite 
  and friendly gesture. "My mom knew his mom, so he and I used to hang out 
  together when we were really small ... at least until Paul's mom died."

Satisfied, Shen grins and takes and shakes the offered hand, firmly. "Hiya."

Drawing back behind the desk, Li makes an easy shift into professional mode 
  and frowns slightly as she looks at the books. "I dunno Paul, we're pretty 
  much full up, unless you want the Crows nest?" She looks up curiously and 
  Paul nods. "Yeah, that will suit our needs just fine," is his reply. Li Hua 
  smiles and reaches behind the desk, handing him a key. "It's in good shape 
  now," she assures him, "the roof hardly leaks at all anymore." Paul chuckles 
  slightly, taking the key from her outstretched hand. "Joy," he murmurs 
  softly, which brings a light, musical laugh from Li. "You still play?" she 
  asks curiously, to which Paul merely nods, "Well, not since school really, 
  but yeah, I keep my hand in it." She grins and waves to him and Shen. "Well, 
  maybe we can try a duet or something sometime." Out of any other Corellian 
  woman's mouth, that would be a definite come-on, but Li obviously means 
  something much more straight forward. Paul shakes the key at her in a wave 
  as he retreats toward the stair. "Maybe," he offers pleasantly, but without 
  much enthusiasm. She waves back and smiles at Shen. "Nice to meet you ... I 
  hope you have a nice time while you're here."

Relaxing for real, at least a trifle, as she senses this woman's implications, 
  Shenner flashes her a broad smile. "Thanks, hope so too." She adds on 
  impulse, suddenly grinning a little more, "Paul's been perkin' up on the 
  music since he met me, and he's real good on his guitar, don't let him try 
  to tell yah otherwise."

Li casts Paul a puzzled expression and mouths "Guitar?" but then shrugs and 
  waves as the stairs carry the two of you out of sight.

Shenner hastily stifles her satisfied grin -- if this Li Hua is as benign as 
  she seems, maybe a musical distraction will help Paul's mood, she tells 
  herself. Hoping that this place they've come to will as well, she heads up 
  the stairs along with her friend and their belongings, and asks cheerfully, 
  "Crow's Nest?"

Turning the third flight of stairs, Paul nods absently. "Yeah, it's the attic 
  really, so the roof slants and such, but it's a high enough ceiling that I 
  don't bump my head, and it's one of the nicest rooms I think, but it's never 
  been properly fixed up and modernized, so they generally don't rent it."

"Bet it beats the hell out of a cold dark alleyway," says the young bard 
  sagely.

Flashing her a quick look, Paul frowns slightly, the memory of the fact that 
  Shenner has lived a less than comfortable life colliding somewhat oddly with 
  the rest of his thoughts, leaving something of a bitter aftertaste in its 
  wake. Although it's not his fault, it's just one more thing that upsets him. 
  Taking a deep breath he replies, "Yeah, better than a lot of places," with a 
  touch of bitterness as the round and top the fourth flight of stairs. Paul 
  reaches over with the key, inserting it in and waiting while the code is 
  verified, and then the door unlocks with an audible click, and Paul gestures 
  inside.

As attuned to Paul's mood as she is right now, Shenner catches that subtle 
  edge to his tone, and mentally kicks herself. _Kark it..._ She peers at him, 
  but only briefly, as she doesn't want to get him impatient with her. In, 
  then, to the room...

The room is obviously not finished, but is quite lovely nonetheless. There is 
  actual woodwork on the windows and furniture, the walls are painted a simple 
  light peach color, which infuses the room light and subtle warmth. There is 
  a bank of windows opposite the door which over look the ocean. While all of 
  the rooms have a view, the Crows Nest as the advantage of height, easily 
  topping the trees to allow for a clear expanse. There is a large queen size 
  bed to the right of the door with light globes and tables on each side of 
  it. Farther to the right is a door that leads to a bathroom. To the left is 
  a chaise lounge, matching chair, and a small table. Other than that, the 
  room is fairly sparsely decorated, with just a few well painted landscapes 
  on the walls and handmade rugs on the bare wood floors. The house is 
  obviously quite old, but well maintained. There are, however, a few buckets 
  in sight, the water stains on the ceiling denoting their purpose here. Paul 
  follows Shen in, not really looking around much, but setting their 
  possesions down and then staring at the lift unit, as if undecided as to 
  what he should do with it.

Shenner looks at everything curiously, and thinks to herself that, indeed, the 
  place beats the hell out of a cold, dark alleyway; a leaky roof is a 
  blessing when you've spent a fair chunk of your life with no roof over your 
  head at all. It is with clear approval that the young woman grins out at the 
  view, as well. At last, though, she turns back to find Paul standing there, 
  and she frowns a little at his bemused expression before moving back to him. 
  "Hey," she asks him gently, unconsciously echoing the same question he'd 
  asked her after seeing Trace that morning, "you in there?"

Paul jerks out of reverie yet again, the troubled expression still lingering 
  there. "Yeah," he replies, but it has about as much enthusiasm as the 
  "maybe" he tossed to Li Hua. He turns then, heading for one of the windows 
  and opens it to get some fresh air in the room. He sits there for a moment, 
  staring at the water. _I owe her better than this_ he thinks to himself. 
  _I'm being a moody son of a bitch, and she's probably about as confused and 
  stressed as I would be if I were in her position_ Without taking his gaze 
  off the water he offers her the best he can right now. "I'm sorry Shen, but 
  I'm not much up for conversation right now."

"You need me to get outta here and letcha be for a while," Shenner offers 
  earnestly, "it's okay... I won't go no farther than downstairs, I swear."

There is a guilty look in his eyes as he turns to her, frowning. "Damnit, 
  that's not what I meant," he offers in a frustrated tone, his irritation 
  with himself, not his redheaded companion. "Look, I'll leave," he offers, 
  rising. "You stay and enjoy the view and I'll ... I'll ..." he looks about 
  and spotting the lift he points to it, "I'll return the lift to the 
  University."

Immediately, soothingly, Shenner lifts her hands, her expression unruffled. 
  "Whoa there," she corrects, "it's okay, pal, you ain't upsettin' me. Really. 
  I'll wait here if you want me to, though." She smiles a little. "You're the 
  boss."

Paul stands there for a moment, not really knowing what the hell to do. 
  "Okay," he decides finally, hoping that perhaps a little time on his own 
  will help him to stabilize, get his affairs in order, so to speak. He heads 
  over, catching the lift one handed and activating. "You can stay or go as 
  you please, but leave me a note if you're heading out." He heads toward the 
  door, palming it open and looking back for one brief moment.

Shen watches Paul as he moves to the door, and as he looks back, she offers 
  him another smile, open, frank, and honest.
Shenner promises, "Will do."

Wondering who substituted the Shenner he knew with this happy helpful clone, 
  Paul just shakes his head in bafflement, offering a rather crooked and small 
  smile, and mutters, "Right," before he is out the door and gone.

That 'happy helpful clone' turns a little more wistful of expression once Paul 
  is out of sight, and, after he's gone, she blows out a breath, feeling as 
  shaky as if she'd just been hauling all the boxes on the lift without the 
  benefit of the lift itself. She mops a hand across her brow, and mutters, 
  "Well, _that_ didn't go too well, did it?" as she casts her gaze about the 
  room, trying to figure out how to occupy herself till Paul returns...

It is with an effort that Shenner tries to decide between exploring the -- 
  well, she can't quite bring herself to call it a hotel, really -- and 
  staying here in the room; the latter quickly wins out, as she's less than 
  thrilled about the notion of venturing out alone anywhere without Paul. Once 
  that's settled, though, the question of what to do with her time presents 
  itself. The artifacts they've brought with her tug at her conscience; what, 
  though, can she do with them? Shenner cannot think of anything 
  immediately... and it occurs to her that this might be an opportunity for 
  _her_ to unwind as much as Paul. She finally moves to unpack her guitar, and 
  climbs with it onto the bed, to perch there with the instrument in her lap. 
  Her head full of the events of the last two days, she settles down to warm 
  up, and eventually, to play, letting her head guide her hands as it will.

It's probably an hour or more before Paul returns from his trip, empty handed, 
  but no more content or restful than he was before he left. From the 
  condition of his clothes and the flush across his cheeks, it appears that 
  he spent a fair amount of the time out doing something highly active. He is 
  quite sweaty and is definitely breathing hard. He had figured that since 
  intellectual pursuits had not helped him overly much in this case, perhaps 
  some good old simple physical exertion would make a difference. And it did. 
  Now he was no longer frustrated and upset, he was frustrated, upset, sweaty, 
  and out of breath. Entering the room with a half scowl across his features, 
  he looks about the room, ordering his facial muscles to relax and form into 
  a more contented expression.

Music greets Paul as he enters the room; Shenner on the guitar, 
  chord-pluck-chording her way through something slow and complex which might 
  possibly be fast and complex if she were more familiar with the melody. She 
  glances up as the door admits her friend, and smiles tentatively. "Hiya..."

Spotting Shen on the bed, Paul watches her for a minute, lifting a hand in 
  greeting, but not saying anything at first. Spotting the bed makes him 
  realize something else .... there is only one. He chews his bottom lip 
  thoughtfully for a moment and then decides that that is just one more 
  complication he can't really deal with thinking about right now ... although 
  a corner of his mind warns him that he should ... that he is vulnerable 
  right now and his defenses might be low. His stubborn aggression perks up at 
  that, snarling that it is doing just fine, thank you, and nothing and no one 
  is gonna mess around with Paul Nighman, that's for sure. Paul silences both 
  voices in irritation. With all the ruckus going on in side his brain, it's 
  no wonder that he's cranky. He points to the bathroom. "I'm gonna get 
  cleaned up, and then we should decide what we're going to do this evening," 
  and without even waiting for her response, he heads in to the bathroom, 
  shutting the door behind him.

"Um, sure," Shenner says over a fingering she has to pause lest she mess it 
  up; only belatedly does she discover she's addressed that to Paul's 
  retreating back. She doesn't have to ask whether his trip out improved his 
  mood any; it's clear to the girl that it hadn't. She ponders what to do 
  about it as she finishes practicing the song she's working on, half of her 
  mind occupied by the desire to be able to play both flute and guitar at the 
  same time so she can see what it sounds like, and the rest of her thoughts 
  taken up with the man in the bathroom.

Muffled sounds can be heard emanating from behind the closed door. Nothing 
  very clear, just occasional thumps and the like, and when the refresher is 
  turned on, the familar rushing hum reverberates softly through the room.

What to do this evening, huh? Shenner crinkles her nose as she finally sits 
  up, laying the guitar aside, and stretching her fingers to keep them from 
  cramping. She glances between the boxes of items from the University and the 
  closed bathroom door, trying to figure out whether Paul needs work or play. 
  If play, what _kind_ of play? It's a baffling question -- she knows that if 
  she were alone, she'd probably be looking for the local nightspots, and 
  downing a big mug of cider. _But then again, if I was alone, I wouldn't be 
  on Corellia...._

Inside the refresher, Paul's only concern is the stinging freshing bite of the 
  spray against his body. The steady stream rolls over his tired muscles and 
  he leans against the wall, letting it sluice over him and wash away the 
  stress along with sweat and dirt. There is something very cathartic about 
  the whole experience, and being in desperate need for a little catharsis, 
  Paul just stands there, letting his mind go blank and concentrating solely 
  on the physical sensations, his muscles releasing their rigidity in small 
  increments. For the first time he can recall doing so in years, he actively 
  dawdles, somehow fearing that as soon as he steps out again, the real world 
  will crowd him all over again. Out of nowhere comes the deep yearning to 
  just be alone again, on his ship, with no ties, no obligations, only vast 
  space and freedom from emotional and personal ties. He frowns slightly, 
  reminding himself of his pact to abandon that life style, but the argument 
  seems weak and flimsy against the memories on board the Bolt.

Out in the room, Shenner moves to pack her guitar, and after a moment, 
  thoughtfully gets out a flute -- the silver one. The girl smiles a bit at 
  it, and carries it to the still-open window, climbing up onto the sill and 
  blowing a few practice notes out into the late afternoon breeze.

All good things must come to an end. Glancing down at his chrono, Paul notes 
  that he has been in here for nearly 40 minutes, and his skin is beginning to 
  take on more than just a healthy glow from the constant downpour. 
  Reluctantly he shuts off the refresher and steps out. Finding a large towel, 
  he dries himself off and then reaches for the door before he reminds 
  himself, _Shen is out there_ He can hear her flute, the one that he gave 
  her, ringing sweetly in the room. Wrapping the towel carefully around his 
  waist, he ties it securely into place and then reaches for the door panel 
  again, signalling it to open. He enters the room somewhat tentatively, 
  feeling rather exposed, but there was no way he was going to put those 
  sweaty clothes back on after purifying himself under the rays of the 
  refresher.

The girl is perched on the windowsill, playing in earnest now, and sending 
  crystalline notes floating out into the air. Her face is partially turned to 
  the view of the city as it begins to twinkle under the darkening sky, and 
  the sight must please her, for she's grinning as she plays, and the tune is 
  one in a major key, full of little triplets and eighth notes. She doesn't 
  immediately notice Paul's presence, so occupied does she appear by her music.

Paul moves quietly, not wanting to disturb her and not wishing to be noticed. 
  He softly opens his bag, pulling out some clothes to change into.

It is easy enough for Paul to grab fresh garments without distracting Shenner 
  from her playing; the girl keeps up her melody while he dresses.

Hiding off slightly to one corner Paul manages to get dressed unnoticed, much 
  to his relief. Remaining silent, he stretches out on the bed, lying on his 
  stomach with his face at the end, toward the windows, and his feet at the 
  top. Wearing a comfortable pair of tan breeches and a loose matching tunic, 
  he folds his arms under his chin, listening to the flute music wafting 
  through the breeze that enters in from the sea, his eyes alternating from 
  watching Shenner to taking in the view. Occasionally his eyes drift shut.

At last, the flute dies off into silence, and Shenner lets out a satisfied 
  breath, turning to notice Paul lying on the bed. With a bit of a smile, she 
  observes, "Great acoustics this high up...."

The rangy Corellian's eyes open lazily, but his only response is a muffled, 
  "Uh huh." It isn't a confirmation of knowledge, but just an acceptance of 
  her judgement on the matter in question. His hair is still damp from the 
  refresher, the weight of which causes it to fall over his eyes. With one 
  casual hand he pushes it out of the way, but it only tumbles back 
  insistently.

Shen's eyes soften a little, and she slips off the sill, moving to sit down 
  again on the edge of the bed by Paul. The silver flute is still in her 
  hands, and she says, holding it up a little, "Still getting to know her, I 
  think." A beat, as Shenner considers, then shifts the flute to one hand; 
  with the other, she reaches forward to brush Paul's water-heavy hair back 
  from his brow. "You wanna nap a bit, or somethin'?"

Rolling over to his side, using one hand to prop up his head slightly, Paul's 
  brow crinkles thoughtfully, and in a rich amber tone rumbles, "No, I don't 
  think so, thanks." He doesn't, however, seem to know exactly what it is that 
  he -would- like to do. He stares at the bedspread for a moment and then his 
  gaze flickers up to Shen's again.

Slightly bothered by seeing Paul like this, the girl releases a breath, 
  thinking. "Uhm, well... d'you wanna do anything else with the artifacts 
  tonight?" She flicks a sideways nod off towards the pair of boxes from the 
  University. "Or you wanna get some food, or somethin'? I dunno what's fun to 
  do in this town, pal..."

_I need a distraction_ is what Paul thinks, and anything he'll think of doing 
  will not do that. He rolls over onto his back and stares up thoughtfully at 
  Shenner, noting that her hair is getting pretty long now, much softer and 
  subtle curves and curls are showing. "Like -I- do? I may have grown up here, 
  but a lot changes in nine years." His gaze flickers to the ceiling and then 
  back to her face, and he tries another tack. "What do -you- feel like 
  doing?" he asks her curiously.

A trifle startled, Shenner abruptly chuckles, drawing up her legs and crossing 
  them beneath her on the bed. "Well, it's like this... if this was Etti IV, I 
  guess I'd be at the Dance Dome, that's what I did a lot at night when I was 
  there... and even on Belsavis and Tatooine. Goin' out listenin' to whatever 
  music I can find, y'know?"

Music ... dancing ... on his planet of birth. That gives Paul an idea. After 
  today, to celebrate his birthday, their birthdays, seems appropo. Something 
  to offset the fact that his father obviously does not relish the day that he 
  was born. _I'll be damned if I let that man ruin the -rest- of my life_ he 
  realizes sharply. _This will be my birthday - born anew, without parents, or 
  at least, without a father. Shen and I can be twins this way_ It's a rather 
  strange and twisted logic, but it suits his mood. Rising up from the bed 
  Paul touches Shenner's shoulder. "Let's celebrate our birthdays ... we each 
  have an hour to find one another a present, which can be anything we want it 
  to be, and then we'll have dinner and listen to music and go dancing. What 
  do you think?"

The girl blinks, then tilts her head a little, and starts to brighten. 
  "Okay.... sure!" She clasps a shoulder of Paul's in return.

Paul raises his chrono and checks it. "Okay, one hour, and we'll meet back 
  here, agreed?"

For a moment, Shen's face flickers with a hint of what might be nervousness, 
  at the prospect of venturing out alone into Coronet's streets. But she 
  quickly squelches it -- damned if _any_ city is going to intimidate her! She 
  doesn't let herself think, quite yet, of whether the notion of dancing with 
  Paul will intimidate her.... firmly, eagerly, she nods, getting up to put 
  her flute away, and to make sure she has credits to carry with her -- and 
  her blaster.

Paul gathers himself together readily , swinging his familar satchel across 
  his torso and staring at Shen in an appraising manner for a moment. "Okay, 
  see you here in an hour, and no spying on one another either ... this is to 
  be a surprise to each of us, right?" He actually cracks a grin then, and a 
  slightly devilish one at that.

"Right," Shenner rallies back brightly, and with a gleam to her green eyes, 
  drawls, "And just to be sporting I'll even give yah enough of a headstart to 
  get downstairs and out the door before >I< leave."

Paul snorts slightly at her great generosity. "How terribly decent of you," he 
  murmurs, but takes her up on the offer and is out of the door in a flash.

With a giggle to herself, Shenner ticks off passing minutes, tallying the time 
  she thinks it'll take for Paul to get out of the building and out of sight 
  before she leaves herself. Only when she thinks it's safe for her to depart 
  does she follow after him, grinning hugely to herself now, her mind racing 
  -- what to get him, and where to go in an hour? Once she's back down in the 
  lobby, she looks quickly around, hoping to find the young woman they'd 
  spoken with on the way in, to see if she can get directions.

Li Hua is not in sight, but there is the soft melancholy sound of a bowed 
  instrument being played off in the direction of the office, the door of 
  which is open.

Quirking her head and immediately drawn to the sound of the music, Shenner 
  heads there curiously, pausing a moment to listen before reluctantly 
  knocking to announce her presence.

The weeping tones pause, and Li Hua's head appears through the doorway as she 
  leans backward to see who it is. "Oh hi," she greets brightly, "please come 
  in." She leans back forward again, removing the elegant instrument from 
  between her legs and turns to face Shenner, the bow still held lightly in 
  her right hand. "Can I help you?"

"Hiya... I just wanted to ask -- see, I wanna get Paul a gift, and I dunno 
  where I can go around here that I could get back from in an hour, see?" the 
  girl says quickly.

The lean woman sets aside the instrument and places the bow next to it. "Well, 
  I guess that would depend on what it is that you are looking for ... you're 
  on Tailspin right now, you just need to drop down and over to Starline ... 
  that's where most of the main shops are ... not far at all really. Just go 
  to the left for three blocks and you're there."

Shenner grins lopsidedly. "I dunno yet, but I got an hour to figure it out, 
  we're gonna celebrate our birthdays, see? Thanks, I better scat...!" She 
  moves to run off, before peering in undisguised wonder at the instrument and 
  blurting, "What... _is_ that?"

Li Hua smiles brightly and tilts her head toward the cello like scrolled 
  instrument. "It's a viol ... I thought you said that you and Paul were 
  playing music together?" she adds in a puzzled tone, not understanding why 
  you wouldn't recognize the lesser known string.

"Oh, well, he taught me some stuff about the guitar, see, but mostly I just 
  been pickin' it up on my own, but I ain't never seen anything like that 
  before..." Shenner stares at the thing admiringly, adds, "I'd love to hear 
  more of it later! Thanks again!" In a flash of red hair, she hastens off.

The dark haired woman watches the redhead scoot, shaking her head in 
  bemusement. Paul had been second only to her in the orchestra, both of them 
  constantly fighting for first chair in the Viol section ... yet this girl 
  claimed never to have seen one before. And guitar? Picking up her instrument 
  again, Li quirked a smile and rosined her bow. That Corellian was certainly 
  full of surprises and contradictions it seemed.

That Corellian was in fact, searching for something rather contradictory for 
  Shen at the moment ... a dress. He didn't know when he had first gotten the 
  idea that she should have one ... probably around the time they had first 
  discussed her issues with being openly "out" as female. He was also, much to 
  his surprise, a little nervous. He didn't know how Shen would take to the 
  gift of a dress, which was a pretty personal thing to give to someone. He 
  wasn't sure she would even much like it. However, he had already bought her 
  two gifts that were well suited to her, the flute and the ocarina. It was 
  about time for him to strike out.
Entering one of the nicer shops on the Ave, Paul browses about, trying to spot 
  a style and color that would look good on Shen. Green, of course, would 
  work, but he didn't want to over do it. Basic black was always in style 
  though, and he found himself peering through a few racks of various cuts. 
  Something to emphasis her slight curves, but nothing so clingy as to affront 
  her modesty. He pulls out a simple dress, thin straps that tie about the 
  neck, a tailored bodice, and a slightly flared skirt that would accentuate 
  the hips, but leave one's legs free to move comfortably. He tries to 
  envision the dress on her, but fails ... and no wonder, it is a sight that 
  is best seen in the flesh, rather than in the fantasy. He blinks, holding 
  onto the outfit and continues to look about.

And in the meantime, Shenner delves out onto the street to which Li Hua has 
  pointed her. As promised, there are shops galore, and the young redhead 
  begins to browse with a vengeance, not knowing what she's looking for, but 
  anxious to find something that's _perfect_ for her friend. Her search 
  becomes more restless as the hour begins to creep away...

Staring at the dress in his hands Paul considers it carefully before placing 
  it down on the counter, along with the matching shoes. _This is it_ he 
  realizes, noting that it certainly isn't a practical object, which was what 
  he had originally envisioned. He stares at it for a moment longer, 
  uncertain, and then places his credit voucher on the counter. "Alright, 
  let's do it," he says to the woman behind the counter, who gives him an 
  appraising gaze and a lascivious smile. "Right now?" she intones 
  seductively, causing Paul's eyes to jerk up to her in surprise and a blush 
  to cross his cheekbones. His reaction only serves in increase her 
  curiousity. "Ah, sorry, that wasn't quite what I meant," he fumbles in his 
  surprise. She gives him a disappointed smile, picking up the voucher. 
  "Damn," he murmurs playfully as she charges his purchases for him.

The hour is almost gone when a breathless Shenner, pelting out of yet another 
  store and moving off to dart down the street, impulsively skids to a halt 
  when she spots an alleyway in which a pair of Drall have set up booths to 
  market their wares. One of them is selling gaudily colored scarves of some 
  sort of gossamar silk, but the other has jewelry, and the glint of various 
  pendants hanging off a display catches Shenner's eye. To these, she moves -- 
  and her breath catches at the sight of one of them. On a thin but sturdy 
  golden chain, a slim disk a few centimeters wide sports a holo of a tiny 
  bird, amazingly detailed for all its size. The miniscule eagle seems caught 
  in mid-climb on a thermal of air, golden-brown wings lifted to catch the 
  light; seeing it, Shenner impulsively scoops it up and waves a hand at the 
  little furred merchant. "This," she declares happily. Hearing that it's to 
  be a gift, the Drall offers to engrave a message on the golden back of the 
  disk for the girl, and eagerly, Shenner forks over the extra credits to get 
  that done before she hightails it back to the inn.

Returning to the room a bit early, Paul changes his clothes, putting on his 
  finest pair of black breeches, polished black boots, and an off white tunic 
  shirt, over which he wears his green and black trimmed vest-jacket. He 
  settles himself down on the bed somewhat nervously, feeling very strange 
  indeed and hoping that he hasn't made a terrible choice here. For a moment 
  he begins to wonder if his choices were not more appropo of a different 
  redhead that he knows, and he chews his lip anxiously. _She'll hate it ... 
  she'll be polite, but she'll think the whole thing is too weird and awkward_ 
  Casting a glance down at his chrono he sighs deeply. _Too late now_

It does not take long before the door slides open, admitting Shenner, who has 
  her hands stuffed in her pockets and no obvious sign of a gift on her. She 
  is visibly quivering with anxious anticipation, and all the more so when she 
  spies Paul already present in the room -- and his clothes changed. "Hi," she 
  blurts.

There is a box, all wrapped up, sitting next to him on the bed. He too looks a 
  little twitchy, but probably for different reasons than Shen. He offers her 
  a somewhat softer, "Hey there," but his face sports a cheerful, if somewhat 
  uncertain, smile.

Shenner doesn't _quite_ scuff a toe along the floor, but she looks 
  uncharacteristically shy as she draws nearer. "Uhm... so, both at the same 
  time or should you go first or I go first or what...?"

"We'll do it like a prisoner exchange ... at the same time," he suggests, 
  holding up his box and offering it to her tentatively.

In reply, Shenner bobs her head, and carefully brings forth the pendant from 
  her pocket. She hasn't had time to wrap it, so she just holds it out there, 
  glimmering where it dangles from her fingers, for Paul to see while she 
  accepts the box with her other hand.

Paul takes the pendant carefully with one hand while releasing the box with 
  the other. He palms it, staring down at the minute details closely, his 
  expression definitely surprised and touched. "It's a red-tail hawk," he 
  murmurs softly, as if entranced. He lightly fingers the piece, and feeling 
  the grooves on the back, he turns it over curiously.

In tiny laser-engraved characters, tracing the circumference of the holodisk's 
  golden back, can be read the simple message 'Fly high always' -- in Basic 
  along the top, and in Corellian along the bottom. In the center is 
  'Shenner', and the date.

Shenner, in the meantime, boggling over what Paul might have found her, sits 
  down on the bed to open the box; when she lifts its lid free, she pauses, 
  stunned at what she finds in the container.

There is a fair amount of tissue paper that needs to be pawed through, and the 
  first impression Shenner gets is the color - rich and vibrant peacock blues 
  and greens. As she draws out the fabric, it unfurls to reveal a dress made 
  of crushed velvet, exquisitely hand dyed, with half length sleeves and a 
  wide slightly scooped neckline. The bodice is one solid piece, obviously 
  meant to be close fitting, and then at the waist the skirt flares elegantly 
  out, layered several times in a handkerchief fashion, so the hem line varies 
  as the different sections overlap and create a fanciful jagged edge. The 
  fabric feels like butter, soft and lush to the touch. Beneath the dress, 
  laying in the box are a pair of light sandals in a matching blue, and a 
  peacock feather clip that was designed as a hair decoration.

"Oh, Paul..." It's an amazed whisper that comes out of the girl now, and with 
  marvelling hands, she touches first the dress, then the sandals, then the 
  feathered clip. Her eyes go as round as coins as she turns to look at him, 
  the dress held up as though she's afraid she might somehow damage it.

As his eyes scan the words, Paul feels a sharp pain in his heart, as they 
  remind him of just how earth-bound he is at the moment. Dependent when he'd 
  rather be unfettered like the hawk on the disc. He touches it again, 
  thoughtfully and wonders how she knew ... he never recalled mentioning the 
  red-tail to her, but here it was, captured beautifully. He slowly reaches 
  up, closing the clasp behind his neck and settling it in place before 
  looking up at Shen's soft murmur of astonishment. He smiles warmly, as he 
  can tell just by her holding it up that it compliments her coloring 
  perfectly. "It's crushed velvet," he mumurs, "I was assured that it's sturdy 
  stuff." He cocks his head to one side, taking in her expression. _Okay, so 
  far no outs, no fouls_ Touching the pendant at his neck he murmurs softly, 
  "Thank you, it's perfect."

Shenner flashes Paul a full, bright look, not quite a smile, but a flare of 
  happiness at the acceptance of the gift nonetheless. Most of the girl's 
  attention is on the dress, though, as she whispers, "I ain't... I've... I've 
  never owned anything like this before."

"I didn't know if you would like it," he murmurs uncertainly. "I mean it is a 
  dress ..." His voice trails off for a brief second. "But it's only the first 
  part ... if you put it on, then we can do the second part of the birthday 
  celebration."

Shenner smiles back, just as uncertainly, then she offers a hasty nod, 
  scooping the garment and shoes carefully into their box... and, abruptly, 
  moving to her belongings to ferret through them, coming up with a small 
  something that she carries off, along with the box, off into the bathroom. 
  There comes the sound of water running, and once, a muffled curse -- no 
  doubt as Shenner tries to figure out how to get herself into the unfamiliar 
  garment. Several minutes, but not too many, pass before she finally 
  emerges...

Rising from the bed, Paul steps about the room in a light jerky gait. _I'm 
  nervous_ he realizes in surprise. He tries to relax, calm his nerves and his 
  muscles, but with little better than a superficial cover of nonchalance. He 
  props himself in one of the windows, gazing out at the serene water and 
  reflecting light of the setting sun causing licks of fire and blooms of gold 
  to spread across the surface. His hand drums an impatient pattern on his 
  thigh until he hears Shen emerge from the bath.

It is perhaps surprising that a girl who's spent most of her adolescence 
  pretending to be a boy should be in possession of anything resembling makeup 
  -- but something that can be nothing but that glimmers, very subtly, along 
  Shenner's cheeks in the barest hint of gold, just enough to accentuate the 
  shape of her face. She has somehow managed to figure out a way to wear the 
  feather clasp so as to keep most of her dangling forelock out of her eyes, 
  leaving them rather more visible than usual as she lifts them up from 
  sheepishly eyeing her bare legs and the sandals she's put onto her feet. And 
  then, there's the dress itself.
It is certainly _not_ surprising that Shenner looks as nervous as Paul feels, 
  if not more so. Clearly not knowing what to do with her hands without 
  pockets to put them in, and just as clearly unsure how, quite, to move in 
  this alien garb, the girl creeps forth into the room and ventures anxiously, 
  "Whatcha think?"

Paul just blinks for a moment taking in her appearance with appraising eyes. 
  The fabric clings to Shen like a second skin, outlining every curve and 
  delicate nuance, the skirt falling full and broken about her legs. She does 
  look almost like some fantastic bird, her redhair contrasting wonderfully 
  with the peacock tones, and the crushed texture catching the light, making 
  her whole form shimmer along with her golden highlights. When she moves, the 
  skirt swirls about, creating an elegant ripple of motion in the wake of her 
  step. He remains seated in the window, his eyes dark. An unbidden rush of 
  attraction floods through his system and he finds himself actively reminding 
  himself that she is only eighteen. Releasing a low whistle, his eyes never 
  leaving her for a second, Paul murmurs, "You look beautiful."

Shen does _not_ ask, 'I do?' But her expression broadcasts that sentiment, 
  along with a fair dose of, 'You gotta be kidding, right? This street rat, 
  beautiful?' She looks down at herself and back up again, babbling lowly 
  while waving a hand vaguely back at the bathroom, "I, uh, got the 
  glitterstuff when I was on Calamari, see... for buskin', thought it'd maybe 
  help catch an audience... y'know?"

It is something of an oxymoron to be looking at this rather delicate elfin 
  creature who peers at him warily, and then for her mouth to open and to hear 
  not soft musical tones, but Shenner's somewhat crude slang come out instead. 
  Cracking a small grin, Paul finds the disparity to be oddly charming. It 
  also helped to break the spell, and shaking his head he smiles again. "Well, 
  I'd say that it is most effective then, I'm caught." He rises from the 
  window and extends to Shen a hand. "Shall we have dinner now?"

Shenner's befeathered head bobs -- slowly, as though she fears knocking the 
  clasp loose -- and she blurts, "I... guess you better take the credits and 
  the blaster..." Her fingers close quickly around Paul's. For all that she's 
  avoiding commenting on her own appearance, both the grip of her hand and the 
  ever so slightly liquid look of her eyes say the same thing: that she's 
  craving assurance that this transformation she's wrought in herself is not 
  only acceptable, but a Good Thing.

Paul merely nods at her words, both of these contingencies having already been 
  handled. He catches both her hands for a moment and leans forward to drop a 
  kiss on her lips, murmuring before he brushes against hers, "You look 
  amazing ... I had no idea ... I'll have to fend every Corellian man away 
  from you."

Blushing, Shenner simultaneously looks comforted and shyer at Paul's words, 
  and her hands tighten around his as she lifts her face into his kiss. "I 
  feel weird," she murmurs tinily, but this doesn't stop her from following 
  her companion to the door.

"I bet," he responds, opening the door. "If it makes you feel any better, so 
  do I," he admits somewhat uncertainly, part of him thinking that it will 
  make her feel more at ease, and the rest of him squealing in protest at 
  revealing just how uneasy -he- is. He closes the door behind her and locks 
  it, then heads for the stairs.

The peacock-clad entity Shenner has become smiles shyly at Paul's admission, 
  and it is with another burst of nervousness that she spends a moment trying 
  to figure out if her usual long gait will still work in these sandals, with 
  this skirt. Determining that it can, she moves along with Paul, but can't 
  help feeling curiously light and insubtantial, with far less bulky clothing 
  and shoes on than she's used to.

Paul keeps his pace sedate, leading her out of the inn and only a few 
  buildings down to a small family owned resturant that also over looks the 
  water. He holds the door of the Trillian Green open for Shenner and then 
  follows close behind. The hostess comes over with a warm smile on her face. 
  "Do you have reservations?" Paul shakes his head and returns her smile, "I'm 
  afraid not ... we were hoping that perhaps you might be able to squeeze us 
  in somewhere ... we're having a belated birthday celebration." The hostess, 
  turning to check her register, replies, "I think we can fit you in 
  somewhere," she assures them, and waves for a waitress. "Alleria will be 
  your waitress," she informs them, and as the petite brunette comes over and 
  notes the seating arrangments, she smiles and picks up two menu's. "This way 
  please."

Even the air interacts differently with this dress, Shenner thinks as she 
  enters the restaurant with Paul; she can feel how it moves around her, 
  stirred by her slightest motion, and she has to work to ignore the constant 
  tiny distractions... after all, women must do that all the time, surely? 
  Anxious to behave right -- whatever 'right' might be -- Shen just smiles 
  sheepishly at the brunette and tries to calm herself as she takes her place 
  at the table.

Alleria leads the two of them to a table set outside on a deck that runs along 
  the back perimeter of the building, overlooking the calmer water of the 
  lagoon. She places both menus on the table and leaves to give the two of you 
  a moment to settle in and peruse the choices. Paul draws out Shenner's chair 
  to offer her a seat.

_Just like I'm a... lady or something,_ Shenner thinks, turning and smiling up 
  marvellingly at the Corellian with her. "Thanks," she murmurs, settling down 
  cautiously, as she tries to figure out how to sit with all this.... skirt 
  around her.

Paul slides the chair behind her smoothly, waiting until Shenner is 
  comfortably settled, before taking his own seat. He passes her a menu and 
  opens his own to find that most of the items are seafood in nature. No 
  sushi, he notes, and that causes his gaze to flutter up and consider Shenner 
  again. The last time he took a redhead to a fancy resturant they had sushi. 
  It had been Jessalyn, and he all too vividly recalled how that evening had 
  ended. Looking back at his menu to hide his eyes from revealing his 
  thoughts, Paul bites his lip absently. That was a very different situation, 
  but it brings up many questions and comparisons about which Paul is 
  uncertain at best. He forces his eyes to focus on the menu, to actually read 
  what is listed there and make a choice. _Make a choice_ he realizes in a 
  flash of startlement.

Across the table, Shenner lifts her eyes and peeks over the top of her menu at 
  her companion. It strikes her all at once how Paul's own clothes flatter 
  him, and she smiles a little at the sight, thrilled. But little signs about 
  him, little suggestions in his motions and words, suggest that he is still 
  tense, and the girl thinks hard, trying to decide what to do, what to talk 
  about. Her thoughts race, and leap impulsively from his current garb to that 
  battered old hat she'd decided looked so good -- the hat. "Hey," she 
  suddenly pipes, "you know, you never told me about that hat you got."

Of all the topics of conversation that could have come up, that was the last 
  one that Paul could have fathomed, and it throws him for a moment into a 
  state of confusion. "What?"

Shenner explains, "The hat -- you said you paid some for the hat, and some for 
  the story that come with it." She grins. "So tell me the story?"

His eyes clear and he lays the menu aside for a moment. "Oh, right ... I'd 
  forgotten." He crosses his arms thoughtfully, and a small wry smile comes 
  over his face. "Well, I was shopping for you in Mos Eisley, and looking for 
  anything as mundane as clothes is no easy feat. Weapons and illegal 
  contraband, no problem, but stylin' clothes?" He makes a face of mock 
  disgust and shrugs. "So anyway, I'm heading down this alleyway eating some 
  dates I picked up from a local vendor and checking out the random goods for 
  sale on the street when I hear this high pitched voice in Bocce say, 
  "Corellian Captian, keep the sun off your head?" He shakes his head as he 
  recalls the young lad. "So I turn, not because he was trying to sell me 
  something, but because I thought that maybe he was one of my contacts trying 
  to pass me a subtle message ... "

Shenner leans forward a little, grinning now, partly because she knows exactly 
  what can be bought in Mos Eisley and where, and partly out of sheer interest.

"Ends up that I didn't know the kid from a Garthlic's hole ... never did 
  figure out how he know I was Corellian ... I mean, we're not that 
  distinctive a bunch." He shrugs nonchalantly. "At any rate, here's this kid, 
  skinny ratty fellow, with nothing to sell except this old battered hat ... 
  don't know if business was good that day, or that bad in general. At any 
  rate, he claimed that it once belonged to Carius Dellen."

Shenner murmurs, eyes twinkling for a moment, "Well, you Corellians _are_ 
  eye-catchin'.... who's Carius Dellen?"

Paul winks at Shenner and shakes his head again. "Regular strutting peacocks," 
  he replies agreeably. "Carius Dellen is more of a legend really ... 
  supposedly the first human to discover the worlds along the Outer Rim 
  Territories, Tatooine being one of them. Not really a feather in one's cap 
  if you ask me," he notes a little snidely. "However, he was one of the real 
  pioneers of space exploration and settlements - scouted out a great deal of 
  the outer rim of our galaxy and was known for his many adventurous exploits. 
  What fewer people knew was that he was actually an xenoanthropologist, 
  looking for new races and beings, hoping to be the first to document their 
  histories. Just his luck that most of the planets he discovered were not 
  inhabited. However, he laid the ground work for us xenoarcheologists." He 
  shakes his head again. "So this kid goes into this huge elaborate story 
  about how Carius landed here and fashioned himself this hat out of Bantha 
  hide to protect himself from the blazing sun, and how it saved his life on a 
  number of occasions. I was so impressed, I paid him twice as much for the 
  story as I did for the hat."

"How long ago was that, do you think?" Shenner asks, running a fingertip in 
  idle consideration along the side of her menu. "Humans scoutin' around the 
  galaxy, I mean... or do people still do that?"
Shenner's green eyes lift to the top of Paul's head, though, as if she's 
  imagining the hat, and she stifles a snicker. "Bantha hide... heh..."

Paul snorts softly, picking up his menu. "Hell, I still do that .... did that 
  ..." he notes, at first proudly and then a little crestfallen as it reminds 
  him of the last time he went past the outer rim, and the fact that he may 
  never get the chance to do so again, at least, not in the Bolt.

Shenner says softly, glancing up and outside for a moment, "I wanna do it too, 
  I think... see the galaxy. You know? 'Cause it's so big... I wanna..." She 
  trails off.

Paul has to bite off the first words that try to leave his mouth, not wanting 
  to spoil the evening. "You want to what exactly?" he asks instead.

The girl looks back, seemingly caught between trying to smile and looking 
  embarrassed. After a moment the former begins to win, as she confides 
  slowly, "I ain't... never really talked about it much since Mom died... 
  hells, ain't talked about it at all, didn't have nobody _to_ talk to about 
  it... but I always wanted to get out there and... do something that _means_ 
  somethin'. I think that's kinda why I always wanted to run off and join the 
  Rebels..." Her voice stays soft, distant, perhaps even dreamy, and she 
  shifts restlessly and unsurely in her chair before finishing in an even 
  softer tone, "I'm... startin' to feel like, for the first time, like I 
  _could_ do that. Do anything I want...."

Confidant. It's a new role for him with Shenner, at least in such that she is 
  admiting the exclusivity of what she is telling him. "You can," he assures 
  her, "so the only question is, what exactly do you -want- to do ... I mean 
  there are a lot of things that are -meaningful-, just depends on what flavor 
  of that you prefer."

Shenner abruptly laughs, setting the menu down on the table and resting an 
  elbow beside it, propping her chin in that same hand. "What do I _wanna_ 
  do...? Ah, hells, Paul, there's so _much_... I wanna... learn how to fly a 
  ship better, and go all over the galaxy and play music -- and _hear_ what 
  music gets played, you know?" Her expression brightens, but subtly, a 
  brightness of yearning rather than joy. "I wanna see everything!"
Shenner then adds, grinning widely, "But for now, I wanna eat that." And she 
  points a slender fingertip at an item on the menu. "Can I get that?"

Opening a mouth to respond to her enthusiastic reply, Paul shuts it briefly. 
  He peers down at his own menu and informs her, "You can have anything you 
  want," his words conveniently answering both of her questions.

"Okay...." The girl smiles again, though she falls silent, sitting back in her 
  chair -- and glancing in momentary renewed wonder down at her layered skirt, 
  still visibly fascinated by it.

Having sensed a break in the conversation of her new patrons, Alleria 
  approaches the table with a cheerful smile. "Do you know what you would 
  like?" Paul nods. "Yes please, I would like the Citron Mahi steak and a 
  bottle of Pier Pont, your best year?" His gaze travels to Shenner, 
  indicating she should place her order if she is ready to do so.

Relieved to be distracted from avoiding mentioning that how she'd like to see 
  the galaxy is with the man facing her at the table, Shenner chimes in with 
  her order for the particular grilled filet she'd eyed. Her brow crinkles at 
  the 'bottle' Paul mentions, though, and she flicks an inquiring look at him. 
  "What's that?"

Alleria gives the two of the a polite smile and heads off smoothly. Paul 
  smiles at Shenner and replies, "You remember that champagne that you had 
  that you liked? It's better." He absently reaches up with one hand, touching 
  the pendant at the base of throat, toying with it. "Trade you a bite for a 
  bite," he offers playfully.

Shenner ohs, and flashes back mentally to the bubbly wine Paul'd shared with 
  her on Calamari; the memory brings with it, however, the conversation they'd 
  had on the cliffside, and for an instant, the girl looks distinctly nervous. 
  But, just as distinctly, she squelches it as she watches Paul fiddling with 
  the holodisk on its chain, and with a grin she tells him, "Okay."

"So after dinner I thought we'd go dancing, what do you think?" he asks 
  conversationally, missing the small flash of alarm in her eyes.

That gets him a sheepish, throaty chuckle. "Wearin' this" -- and she plucks 
  for a moment at her sleeve -- "I guess it won't be the same kinda dancin' 
  they do at the Free-Flight!"

Paul laughs softly and reaches across the table, "No, not quite, sorry," he 
  chuckles. "Although you'd be surprised what people will dance in sometimes 
  ... that dress is positively demure by some standards." Again, he gazes over 
  Shenner's appearance. He cocks his head to one side thoughtfully, wondering 
  what it was that he had thought he was doing when he decided on this 
  evening. _A distraction, remember?_ "Happy Birthday Shenneret Veery," he 
  murmurs in a soft throaty growl.

"I like it," Shenner breathes, looking up and meeting Paul's gaze, and her 
  eyes echo her sentiment; the girl clearly means it. She blushes a trifle at 
  the sound of her full name, but adds readily, "And the same to you, Paul 
  Nighman!"

"Thanks, I like it too," he murmurs softly, his voice a dip lower on the 
  register and warm as mulled brandy. It isn't clear if he is refering to her 
  dress or her gift, which he still holds lightly between his fingers, sliding 
  it along its chain fractionally. The champagne arrives and his poured, the 
  bottle set to one side. Paul draws his hand back to pick up his fluted glass 
  and holds it up. "A toast ..."

Shen lifts her own glass in return, watching Paul, her eyes bright. "To 
  birthdays?"

"To discovering new ground and exploring new experiences," he offers 
  additionally, taking his glass and clinking it gently against Shen's before 
  taking a drink.

"Hear hear," Shenner agrees, sipping -- carefully -- at the wine, not wanting 
  it to grab hold of her too quickly before dinner arrives. But her eyes are 
  bright, and her gaze lingers on her friend.

The conversation is light, occasionally lacking, but the overall mood of the 
  evening is relaxed and pleasant with slightly romantic overtones as Paul 
  keeps flashing Shenner amber gazes, soft words of flattery, and small 
  touches and gestures. The food is excellent, succulent and flavorful. The 
  champagne is also a perfect compliment, and the bottle is easily finished 
  off without either of them being the wiser until the last drop is poured. 
  Despite the quantity that Paul has obviously imbibed, he looks more than 
  sober as he pays the bill and assists Shenner out of her chair, taking her 
  arm in his to escort her to the ballroom in the center of town with a 
  seductive smile on his lips.

The evening -- and perhaps the wine -- begins to work a slower but no less 
  apparent transformation in Shenner, to go along with the visual one brought 
  about by her velvet dress. Her eyes are turned greener, and within them, 
  more and more often, can be seen a sparkle of eagerness offset by a few pink 
  blushes beneath the delicate brush of the gold glitter across her 
  cheekbones. It _is_ a dream, she thinks to herself, but the best dream 
  she's ever had: a holo-tale come to life, of a handsome, seasoned galactic 
  wanderer spending his charm and attention on... well, she can't think of any 
  role from any holo-thriller she's seen that she could fit. So this night, 
  impulsively, she decides that Shenneret Veery, that song that still needs 
  writing, will be the Grand Young Lady. And it's with a hint of Jessalyn and 
  more than a hint of Princess Leia Organa in mind that Shenner answers Paul's 
  flattering words with what she hopes are a Grand Young Lady's mannerful 
  noises. More than once, though, she has to giggle at how she sounds, well 
  aware that she's play-acting and not minding if Paul knows it too.

If he set out this evening with the unconcious idea of molding Shenner into 
  something, he is pleased to note that he did not succeed. While she is 
  obviously playing along and humoring him to some extent, she seems neither 
  upset nor altered by the occasion. _You can dress her up and take her out, 
  but you can't change her stripes_ ... and it's not like he really wanted to 
  in the first place. As the arrive at the ballroom, a fantastic giant 
  chandelier is one of the most notable things about the spacious hall filled 
  with people. It is almost a comfort to see that the crowd however is not as 
  equally impressive as the room. There is a mix of couples, some finely 
  dressed, and others downright casual. There is only the uniting factor of 
  the music and the dancing, which crosses all borders of age, race, and 
  class. Paul takes Shenner's arm off from his own but continues to hold her 
  hand. "May I have this dance?" he asks her a touch galantly.

"But of course," replies the Grand Young Lady, managing a credible curtsey. 
  Under the glow of the countless twinkling lights of the immense chandelier, 
  Shenner's hair glows, and her expression does as well.

Paul takes Shenner in his arms when they reach the dance floor and starts to 
  dance with her, slowly so she gets the idea of how this kind of dancing 
  works. He presses her body against his so she can feel his moves, so she can 
  feel the physical cues that tell her which way to move. His head drops down 
  to her ear, his breath feathering there briefly as he murmurs warmly, "If 
  you can't get the gist of it, just put your feet on top of mine and you'll 
  soon pick it up." The feel of the fabric under his hands, warmed by her 
  flesh, causes Paul's nerve endings to respond appreciatively, the fabric 
  soft and rich in texture, her body willowy and yielding.

"I'm a bard, remember?" Shenner murmurs back, her voice turned husky. And 
  indeed, she seems to have no problem at all finding a way to flow into the 
  music resonating through the glittering chamber; the music alone brings a 
  yet brighter shine to her eyes, though, and half her attention stays on the 
  river of chords, crescendos, and runs of notes while the other half marks 
  the giddying sense of Paul guiding her about the floor. As though there is 
  hardly any substance to her at all, she glides along before him.

A charmed smile crosses Paul's lips as he continues to hold her close, now 
  because he wants to. As she quickly grasps the steps, dancing as naturally 
  with him as if she'd done so dozens of times before, he becomes more 
  fanciful, guiding her through turns and spins and the occasional dip at the 
  end of a number, arching her back over his arm and leaning over her. On the 
  slower numbers he holds her close to his chest, his lips close to her temple 
  or brow. His hands occasionally slide across the fabric, testing the feel of 
  both the dress and her lithe form.

If the dinner had been a dream, Shenner finds herself barely able to 
  contemplate what the dancing might be. Enthralled by several things all at 
  once -- sweetly pure chords from the string section, the lingering wine in 
  her blood, the swish of the velvet skirt about her body, and most of all, 
  Paul's arms about her -- she finds herself feeling even more light and airy 
  of form, as if she might float straight up into the chandelier at any moment.

Paul tries to recall the last time he danced like this ... he faintly recalled 
  a diplomatic function that he had been invited to a number of years back - 
  elegant and formal. There was a particular emmisary from Coruscant there, 
  but he could barely recall her features now, let alone her name. The fabric 
  slips like water beneath his hands, allowing him to swirl Shen easily, 
  allowing her slight figure to spin between his hands. After a few dances he 
  catches Shen's gaze and asks her a rich husky tone, "Thirsty?"

Her face slightly flushed, her gaze and features aglow, Shenner bobs her head. 
  "A little!"

Leading her to a side bar, Paul fetches her a glass of the light fruit 
  concoction that they offer there. It is light and tart, sweet with just the 
  slightest hint of alcohol in the afterbite. He sips from his own glass idly, 
  his eyes watching Shenner over the edge.

Cradling her glass in her hands, Shenner beams at him, and for a moment, 
  quivers in active delight as the orchestral melody filling the air comes to 
  a close with a particularly ringing, clarion harmony. "Listen to _that_!"

It does not take Shenner long to finish her drink -- and this time, it is 
  _she_ who tugs _Paul_ out onto the floor again. _This isn't hard at all!_ 
  she thinks in triumph. Remembering the way she'd claimed a sector of the air 
  over the Free-Flight's antigrav floor and made it her own, she does the same 
  here and now. Her fancy tracks out a path for her feet across the ballroom, 
  and as she grips Paul's hands in hers hopefully, that same fancy illumines 
  that path in her mind with sparkles of light where their feet touch.

Paul grins in delight, not realizing previously that even if the dancing was a 
  bust, that was please her. However, Shen seems more than pleased, she seems 
  enthralled. Staring for a moment at the minature orchestra, he is reminded 
  of Li Hua's invitation to play again. A subtle challenge, he could tell. He 
  wonders what Shen would think if she knew that he was also once a 
  classically trained muscian ... not that it ever got him anywhere, but for 
  awhile he had competed. In that moment his hand is grabbed yet again as he 
  finishes his drink as Shen pulls him to the floor.

There is a definite appeal for Shenner to the stately, ordered glidings about 
  the polished floor of this place; it is fitting for the music, and some 
  scrap of knowledge across which she'd once stumbled paints a brief 
  connection to the cycles of the stars and planets across the galaxy. But the 
  girl's more random nature glimmers through every so often as she begins to 
  toss in her own little variations to the movements Paul shows her. Once, she 
  even manages to spin him.

Her shenanigans get the two of them the occasional look, the infrequent 
  frown, and the random grin from their fellow dancers. At first Paul is a 
  little surprised, but then he gets into the spirit of things, letting 
  Shenner take the lead and following her cues for a change of pace.

At last, when the next number drifts to a close, Shenner impulsively wraps her 
  arms around Paul and gazes up at him, her entire face radiant. "This is the 
  best night of my life," she murmurs.

Paul has never been a part of anyone's "best night" before, let alone the 
  instigator of it. His arm comes around her waist, the other reaching up to 
  delve into her hair as he considers her glowing features. He opens his mouth 
  to say something, but instead he tightens his grip and his lips descend to 
  capture hers in a spontaneous response.

Without a second of hesitation, Shenner readily answers the kiss, her mouth 
  tasting of fruit and wine, her slim young form pressing a little closer to 
  her tall friend.

The hand at her back roams across the lush fabric, tugging her closer. At her 
  response his lips become intent and seductive, wooing her mouth as he feels 
  a surge of attraction prickle and burn its way through his system. The rest 
  of the dancers pay them little attention except to smile knowingly as they 
  dance past the engaged couple, the music having started up again.

There's one other thing that the dress does for Shenner's awareness -- it 
  accentuates for her quite clearly the shape of her body, especially when 
  pressed against Paul's. As if her blood has turned to wine, she feels a 
  bubbling rush of attraction of her own, and only when she has to breathe 
  does she pull back. But it's only a fraction of space that she does so -- 
  and after a moment, _she_ kisses _him_.

The dress certainly makes Paul more aware of the shape of her body too, the 
  fabric enticing his hands to stray, and the curves that it clings to and 
  enhances encouraging them to stroke and caress. Her replying kiss catches 
  him by surprise by its boldness, and he responds in kind, with a more 
  probing passionate kiss. He can barely sense the other dancers around him, 
  obsessed with the feel of her velvet clad body against him, her velvet lips 
  to his own.

When spontanteous applause from three different couples breaks out around her, 
  Shenner looks up, then blushes vividly rose before lifting her gaze back to 
  Paul. Her face very close to his, her eyes full and liquid, she murmurs 
  tinily, "Coulda sworn we were alone..."

Before he can stop himself, Paul hears his voice say, "We could be ..." and 
  then just stands there, internally aghast at the implications of that 
  statement. "I know what you mean," he adds smoothly, burying the suggestion 
  under a flood of words. "I'd forgotten they were there too." His hands have 
  ceased their roving ways and now just rest around her waist, which he 
  realizes he can almost span between them.

"Do you want to go back yet?" Shenner whispers. "Or dance more?" She doesn't 
  say anything to that brief blurted suggestion -- but it's obvious that she 
  caught it, because she blushes again.

"Your call," he murmurs back in a voice soft and rich as a Corellian brandy, 
  and with as much kick. His eyes dark, he considers Shenner's flushed face, 
  letting her once again set the pace. A small portion of his mind reminds him 
  that whether they go now or they go later, there is still the issue of there 
  being only one bed in that room. His hands shift despite his best efforts, 
  drawing to the small of Shen's back before he can stop them.

"I don't want this to end," Shenner answers softly. The obvious implication is 
  "yet" -- the less obvious, perhaps, "ever", but the girl doesn't say that, 
  and she works to avoid thinking about it. Focus for now on Paul's presence, 
  his smile, his eyes; you might not have them after Mandalore, the back of 
  her own mind counsels, so best to treasure them now. "Dance with me, Paul..."

Wordlessly, Paul takes Shen into his arms, holding her tenderly as he begins 
  to dance, the number slow and sweet. Her simple words and her simple request 
  touch him exquisitely, and he considers the fact that at this moment she 
  could ask him for anything and he would probably give it to her. For as long 
  as she holds his gaze, he keeps his eyes locked with her own.

Shenner's green gaze shimmers again, with undisguised joy. With a hand about 
  Paul's middle and the other lightly grasping his shoulder, she circles with 
  him across the floor. Each time her eyes meet Paul's, they are full of an 
  equally undisguised adoration... but with a touch of that same clarity with 
  which she had faced his father, giving her expression a depth past that of 
  reflexive worship. As the night begins to glide on into its later hours, 
  that look lingers in her regard, even when she begins to tire, her steps 
  occasionally faltering.

The band winds down a slow number, the crowd now dwindled down to a few 
  couples. Shen's form is heavy against Paul's, and as he winds to a stop, he 
  reaches with one hand to her chin, lifting it gently and dropping a light 
  kiss to her lips. "Okay, I think you're done in now ... we should head 
  back," he suggests in a voice husky with the lateness of the hour.

Now, Shenner does agree, bobbing her head slowly as she looks up at her 
  companion. "Let's go back..."

The walk back is uneventful, Paul's arm wrapped about Shenner's shoulder as 
  they slowly make their way back through the silent darkened streets. The Inn 
  is dark, save for a few globes set on dim levels, casting just enough light 
  to see them through the house safely up to their room. Paul releases Shenner 
  long enough to unlock the door and then enters the room, turning one of the 
  bedside globes on low and closing the door behind Shen as she enters the 
  room.

Now hazy and rosy of thought, Shenner smiles softly up at Paul as she moves in 
  to slip off her shoes. Then, for a moment, she pauses, one hand brushing 
  against the velvet of her garb; at that, she blushes a bit, smiles again, 
  and digs up her nightgown and robe out of her bags. "'Scuse me," and she 
  vanishes with her nightclothes off into the bathroom.

Paul sits down on one side of the bed a little heavily. Tired but also highly 
  aware. He strips off his jacket and removes his boots and once again 
  realizes that it would probably be better for all concerned if he just got 
  something to sleep in for a change ... but somehow the idea of wearing 
  pajamas or a shirt seems strange and ludicrous after sleeping nude for all 
  these years. Instead he changes into an undershirt and a loose comfortable 
  pair of pants and stretches out on the bed restively for a moment.

After a few moments Shenner re-emerges, her face freshly scrubbed, the dess 
  and feather clip carried carefully in her hands. She glances about as if 
  trying to figure out what to do with her garment, before settling at last on 
  moving over to repack it into its box. "Your turn," she murmurs at Paul, as 
  she nods off towards the bathroom.

Paul nods and rises slowly, ambling his way to the bathroom, though he doesn't 
  shut the door, as his nightly ritual, if any, is just to splash some water 
  on his face and clean his teeth, which he does in a matter of minutes. He 
  flicks off the bathroom light and ambles back to the bed, staring at it for 
  a moment before pulling back the covers without comment.

Shen has gotten to her feet, now, and she studies Paul thoughtfully when he 
  returns. After a beat she moves to his side and asks, "Gimme a blanket?"

Paul's gaze rises to meet hers and he frowns, puzzled. "Whatever for?"

The girl turns slightly to point towards the chaise. "I thought I'd sleep 
  there..."

Looking over the chaise, which while attractive, doesn't look the least bit 
  comfortable for anyone larger than a small child. He looks back to Shen, his 
  eyes dark and almost brown now. "You won't be comfortable," he notes in 
  protest, but looking at the bed and considering his earlier words and 
  actions from this evening, he wonders if perhaps she wouldn't feel -safer- 
  on the chaise than with him. Part of him can't blame her, but a small part 
  of him feels almost hurt ... or is it cheated? Running a hand through his 
  hair he looks back at Shen and murmurs, "Well, if you'll be more content," 
  he murmurs uncertainly, and turns, shuffling toward the closet and peering 
  inside for an extra blanket.

Shenner reaches a hand to Paul's shoulder, then, stalling him. She says very 
  softly, "It just seems like... I dunno, maybe you need a little space or 
  somethin'? Am I wrong?"

Space? If she had asked him that this afternoon, he wouldn't have said yes, 
  but she would have been right. Now, however, space was not what he was 
  interested in. If anything, having Shenner wrapped around him for the night 
  sounded wonderful, a continuation of their evening even after sleep overtook 
  them ... but the concern he had was if something else should overtake them 
  as it did this morning. He'd like to think that he was in control, and 
  perhaps to some degree he was, but he also couldn't state with any assurity 
  that if they had not been interrupted that he would have stopped. Turning to 
  face her, Paul raises one hand to her freshly scrubbed cheek and murmurs, 
  "I'm better than fine Shen, you should sleep wherever you will be most 
  comfortable ... I don't want to put you out, but if you prefer the chaise, I 
  understand .... we can ask for a cot or something tomorrow maybe ..."

Her eyes warm, Shenner answers, "I guess I wanna sleep perfect, just like the 
  rest of the night was perfect... want that for you, too." A bit of a blush; 
  then, she adds, one end of her mouth curling up before her expression 
  softens again. "But if you want my vote... I prefer sleepin' by you..."

It takes a supreme effort not to touch her, not to kiss her, not to cruise his 
  hands over her form. Somehow Paul just nods thoughtfully and manages to 
  murmur, "My thoughts exactly," before turning back to the bed and turning 
  down the covers. _Nothing is going to happen_ he admonishes himself in 
  advance. _Nothing, you hear me?_

[End log.]