Log Date: 9/15/98 Log Cast: Ken, Morrison Van Sen, Ariani (NPC), Shenneret Veery, Fay Log Intro: Ever since witnessing a startling assault upon the person of Princess Leia-Organa Solo in the middle of Fountain Square, Shenneret Veery has not been sleeping easy at night. The day of the attack left her with a mighty headache for hours -- and ever since then, memories have begun to creep back into place in her consciousness, filling in a month-long gap she knows to have been previously occupied by her disastrous trip to Mandalore. Just as disturbing to the girl is the return of her knowledge of what exactly happened to Paul Nighman -- for she's discovered, hidden away in the lining of her guitar case, a letter from the Corellian, which she now remembers that she'd stuffed there. It's not been a pleasant discovery for Shen in the slightest, for now, she knows that Paul left her on purpose... and he's not coming back. Feeling a resurgence of tension and emotional pain that had last assaulted her months ago on Calamari, Shenner has striven to look as normal as possible to the staff of the Sandbar, but she hasn't managed yet to deceive the vigilant Ariani, even as she tries to immerse herself in music and study; she can't keep herself from being noticed, either, by strangers in the bar.... ---------- Ken enters the Sandbar. Ken has arrived. Morrison sits at a bar talking on a handset phone. "Well...who is it?" he asks into the phone. Ken looks at you for a moment. Her study complete at last, Shenner tiredly leaves her table, taking her dishes up towards the bar and hailing Ariani as she comes up within earshot. "Hey," she calls in her rough young tones, "I'm done... " "'bout time, kid," Ariani can be heard to reply. "The others'll be here in a bit, and you guys gotta rehearse before the night crowds get in here, ya know?" Ken walks out of the Sandbar and the door closes automatically. Ken has left. Morrison looks over at the red haired woman sitting just away from him and asks, "You a preformer?" The girl who's slid onto one of the barstools as she speaks with Ariani blinks, her pale brow crinkling, and swings a dark green gaze round over her shoulder. "You talkin' to me, pal?" she inquires, the tone not hostile, merely curious, but reserved. Morrison looks up from his drink and his phone conversation. he closes the comlink and sits it down on the table. "Indeed I am. I'm quite into the arts myself and always enjoy meeting someone of similar intereasts." Morrison The man before you is tall, about 6'6" tall. His hair is black and well groomed, slickened by gel. His clean shaven face is marred only by a well trimmed mustache, that is the same shade of black as his deep raven eyes. Around his neck is a silver necklace with a rectangular symbol. He wears a dark brown leather jacket over a deep blue shirt. He wears black trouser pants and grey shoes. The young woman's green gaze takes in the figure at the table, and then, in that same reserved voice, she answers, "Yeah... I'm a singer. I'm singin' her with the regular band for a while." The blue suited man stands and motions toward the seat in front of him, "I would be honored if you would have a drink with me." he says. "I'm a writer myself but I would enjoy making your aquaintance." The young woman's brows rise, and she glances over to Ariani with a mouthed query: 'How long?' Ariani's answer is 'About half an hour', and then, a slight wariness in her youthful visage, Shenner stands up. "Okay," she says gruffly, striding over. Morrison smiles warmly and moves over to pull the chair out for her to sit in. Returning to his own he sits and asks Emma to fix him a Kallan Rum and Soda. She promptly talkes Shenner's order as well and scurrys off to fill them. "So tell me about your work. Do you sing original music at your shoes or do the popular stuff that rides the grid these days?" As he asks this he toys with a golden thumb ring on his right hand. Up close, the redheaded young woman, looks rather worn and weary, but her green gaze settles alertly on her questioner. Brought a cider, she leans back in her chair to drink it, and as she does, she replies in a blunt kind of cordiality, "I sing my stuff. And other stuff I know. The band here has their own songs, I'm learnin' some of 'em since they're letting me sit in with 'em." Morrison looks the young woman over carefully as he sips hid drink. It seems that his ebony eyes reflect her in a way that sees her fatigue. "Original music is all that should be..." he smiles and rubs the back of his neck. "Singers that sing the words of others always seem so...fraudulant." He glances at his watch and then over at a man standing along the wall, then back to Shenner, "What time does the show start?" The girl smiles narrowly. "Don't matter if the song's been sung before -- just matters how you sing it." Green eyes meet dark eyes unflinchingly, despite the hollows at their corners. "We'll probably be on stage and singin' in another coupla hours." Morrison frowns at the words, "Alas, I must be off before the show then." He takes another drink. "Will you perhaps be anywhere near CSA space in the future? Or are you one of these Casparians that prefer to stay in-system all their lives?" He stares into those green orbs briefly and then to her mouth. Shenner's green eyes narrow, somewhat. Her mouth, when she lowers the cider mug from it, can be seen to have tightened up slightly. "I ain't Casparian," she observes coolly. "But I ain't got no plans to be in CSA space any time soon, no." Morrison leans forward and says, "I would like to hear you perform sometime. Please consider looking into Etti IV and Kalla, the university there is starting a new program to support original artists...and I would be willing to pay for your billet if you were to consider it in the future..." He leans back and takes another drink. "Not from Caspar? Where're you from?" "Belsavis," is the girl's short, curt reply. She doesn't elaborate. She does eye the man before her over her cider, and she adds gruffly, "Thanks for the tip. I'll keep it in mind." Morrison raises an eyebrow and doesn't seem able to place the planet's name..."I don't think I ever asked you your name. I am Morrison Van Sen...and you are?" he snags a quick sip before lowering his glass. "Shenneret Veery." The girl seems to make a point of slouching ever so slightly, as if she's trying to do an impersonation of 'Corellian smuggler in a cantina in Mos Eisley.' Morrison looks again at his watch and then takes another downing drink. Lowering the glass to the table he says, "Ms. Veery. I'm pleased to meet you. Now if you will excuse me I must be on my way...THank you for joining me." he looks at the man near the wall and nods. The chunky man in the blue suit then moves to the bar and pays Emma for the drinks. Shenner sits up a bit, her eyes not missing the bar's shadow, over there. She bobs her head in a curt sort of nod, and drawls lowly, "No problem, pal." From the shadows a man walks by Shenner brushing her roughly on the arm. He looks down and growls with a sharp toothed grin. A tattoo is visible on his neck. He follows Morrison as they leave. "Hey!" growls the girl in reply, smacking at the arm in question, her eyes flaring up. But by the time she's getting to her feet, the miscreant is out of reach. The door closes behind the man and his companions.... Fay enters the Sandbar. Fay has arrived. Morrison walks out of the Sandbar and the door closes automatically. Morrison has left. Fay walks out of the Sandbar and the door closes automatically. Fay has left. [End log.]