[h2][b]Pestage's Folly[/b][/h2]

"She's late…" Grumbled Phasma who was standing next to the very person who had so arrogantly summoned Miryia. The man next to her chuckled, raising his gloved hand. He stared out into the distance, seeing the speeders and the occasional TIE Interceptor zoom by. He couldn't help but smile as the anticipation built. There was a part of him that wanted to measure her reaction. Their race, after all was well-known for their sense of superiority. To use something Miryia had marked as 'servant' was a direct challenge to her authority and power. Something this particular officer had purposefully done. Not as part of some grand strategy, but simply for his own amusement. His counterpart though, didn't share his sentiment. Phasma, who came from a world where she had been crowned the leader of her clan after her many victories saw Miryia as an outsider and the fact that her boss had called upon her as part of one of his games annoyed her. She was deeply loyal to him, not because she was his underling, but because of what he had done for her in the past. 

"Patience. She knows. And that, I think, makes it all the more exciting." The man giggled, making Phasma roll her eyes. There were times where she couldn't simply stand him. He was a brilliant strategist and spy, but an awful companion. 

"Have you considered she might just hurl you into the Coruscant Underground?" Phasma said, staring back at him in an effort to wipe the grin from his face. That, only made him smile even more. 

"I'm too useful." He said, placing his hands together in front of him, stroking his palms. "Regardless of her opinion of me, I'm too big of an asset. And if my theory is correct…" 

"You will join her?"

"And you won't?" He finally turned to Phasma, his smile fading as she turned away instinctively. There was no doubt in his mind that he was correct, and he wouldn't allow Phasma to say otherwise or put into question her loyalty to him. Pestage's days were numbered and whether he died now or later was just a matter of time. 

"I spoke out of line, sir." 
Her words made the man scoff. There was nothing he hated more than insubordination. Phasma was a good soldier, but too focused on her own loyalty to the Empire for her own good. He would have to deal with that later. 

"I expect better of you, Phasma. But you always do right for me, don't you?" He said, speaking softly. Though, the words doubled as a threat. 
"Yes, sir."

"Excellent." 
The man looks up, the grin on his face appearing again as he spots a luxury speeder approaching in the distance. As the speeder comes closer, Miryia is able to spot two figures. One, a female in a white and black ISB uniform. Next to her is a male who is shorter than her. He too is wearing the black and white uniform of the Bureau. When the speeder gets closer, she manages to make out the male figure better. 

It's a Bothan…