Sayeeda cleared her throat the only obvious sign of embarrassment at the situation. The only way to be sure you wouldn’t be embarrassed was to be dead. She shifted her rump into a slightly more proper position, cursing the way the most fabric clung to her body. The porno finally blanked to a peaceful holographic tableau. For someone who was normally a technical wizard it took a suspiciously long time for Taya to make the transition.

“Ok?” she asked, momentarily confused. Her eyes followed the Prince’s to the staple sutures that the provost's had applied to her forearm. The graze was nothing serious, a piece of a bullet had shattered against steel or concrete and drawn blood. She probably wouldn’t have bothered with it even if they didn’t have a badly wounded merc to stick in the medi-comp. A few treatments of stem-gel would close it up without even a scar.

“Oh this, nothing to worry about,” she reassured Aiden. What would Aiden have thought about the time she got hit on Beta Aquilla? Stomach muscles contracted involuntarily in recollection of  being slammed back into the fighting compartment of her skimmer. The Prince looked unconvinced but chose not to pursue the matter further.

“I’d be honored to attend the coronation with you… if that is politically advisable?” she cocked an interrogatory eyebrow. Aiden’s gaze lost some of its suspicion and he smiled with genuine amusement.

“Oh perfectly acceptable Say… Junebug,” he replied, stumbing over the nickname despite her permission to use it. 

“I’m not the King yet, besides there are few highborn ladies who would care to be compared to you if I opted not to attend with the beautiful and deadly Captain Cyckali.” As far as flattery went it worked better than most though the implied political complexity made her slightly wary.

“We had a date tonight didn’t we?” Sayeeda asked. Pausing to run her fingers through her short hair before wrapping a white linen towel around her midsection in belated modesty.

“We do, though I thought perhaps since the attack on your ship..”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted curtly. Aiden smiled wickedly.

“The we best get you to the Royal Clothiers, the hairdressers at the least will be tearing their hair out with frustration. They normally demand several hours for the Pinnacle Opera.” Aiden’s eyes shifted to Neil and became a touch less mirthful.

“And what will you gallant companies be doing while we are enjoying the splendour of the Opera? I suppose I could arrange tickets for the two of you?”
[@POOHEAD189]