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[@Sep][hr]

[color=lightgray]"I do believe the green compliments you well, sir."[/color]

[color=82ca9d]"Now now, Hawks, save all the compliments and flattery for our guests. You're in charge."[/color]

The aging clone sighed as he stood at a polite attention in the doorway while Ro Nuul adjusted the sleeves and collar of a sharp green robe with gold trim and accents. While somewhat similar in feel to his normal Jedi robes, he never quite got comfortable with the feeling of wearing something so expensive. It was a decadence that was lost on him, but it was a necessity. Willha had taught him decades ago about the importance of presentation. Ro Nuul gently lifted a finger towards a decorative golden mantle, and it gingerly lifted into the air over his head and settled down over him. The clone seemed unamused, quite used to the parlor tricks the old Jedi master employed in his daily tasks. [color=lightgray]"We've gone ahead and prepared everything to your specifications, sir. Keldabe ATC has confirmed Willha's yacht has arrived, ETA on her arrival is about twenty-seven minutes."[/color]

Ro Nuul gave a small nod. [color=82ca9d]"Excellent. Have you-"[/color]

[color=lightgray]"We have an air-speeder ready at the balcony for you, sir."[/color]

Ro Nuul gave a small nod, stepping out from his second-floor bedroom in the penthouse suite, admiring the well-dressed clones setting up tables full of hors d'oeuvres. Two clones had set themselves up at the fully-stocked bar, preparing ice and setting up glasses. The food and spirits came from across the galaxy, and it had taken Ro Nuul five months of preparation to ensure he could source local ingredients to prepare dishes from the homeworlds of every member of the Free Horizons Fund's board, as well as a few notable donors. He took a bit of pride in the preparations they had made. Ro Nuul gave a small smile to the Director of Recruitment and Engagement. [color=82ca9d]"I believe we've outdone ourselves, Hawks. I leave them in your care. I'm afraid I'm needed somewhere far more... dangerous."[/color]
[hr]

Ro Nuul always hated events like this. Too many variables, not enough control of the environment... too many masks, so to speak. And that was not even getting started on the feelings in the room, reverberating through the force. Looks of contempt and a distinct tenseness formed knots in the pit of the Kel Dor's stomach. In the peripheries of these chambers, aristocrats and diplomats held uneasy stares as two of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy were engaged in a rather tense dialogue. Ro Nuul pushed the thought of that conversation to the side, quickly looking in the direction of several of his... compatriots, for a lack of a better word. A young Jedi and a proud Mandalorian, each engaged as well by foreign dignitaries seeking to gain the favor of the Mandalorians. Ro Nuul always made sure to be home for these occasions, offering his services as a member of the Enclaves to help divert some of the attention. Though, he was quite regretting that choice at the moment.

[color=gray]"Oh darling, you must come and enjoy a swoop race in my box. I insist."[/color]

An older woman, middle-aged with grey streaks in her auburn hair, hung from Ro Nuul's arm. She wore an extravagant blue robe adorned with a variety of jewels that sparkled in the light. This was, of course, Senator Sera Rashila of Corsin. She was about Ro Nuul's age... and like many in Keldabe, was very much day-drunk far too early in the morning. The Kel Dor gave a polite bow of his head. [color=82ca9d]"I would be honored, Senator Rashila. I believe I will be travelling to Corsin within the next few months on business... I will make sure to bring a bottle of that Alderaanian White you enjoy."[/color] A lie, of course, but an acceptable one to keep the peace.

Ro Nuul's eyes wandered around the room. Specifically, his eyes focused in on a certain middle-aged man in finer robes. His research suggested this was the Prince Consort of the Hapes Consortium, which had only recently begun to stick its head out from under its shell to acknowledge the wider world. More specifically, though, the Prince Koren's name came back as a potential match to a Padawan from the time of the Clone Wars who had been declared missing during Knightfall. Given the slightest notions and feelings of discomfort radiating from Koren Omi-Ren from the fine clothes, Ro Nuul was fairly certain he could recognize a fellow Jedi.

Of course, all conversation ceased when the Paladin spoke. The sudden outburst and public disagreement had sent ripples of whispers throughout the assembled crowd. The tension had somehow intensified even further than it had before. Several politicians at the periphery began vacating the area, and Ro Nuul was certain now would be the best chance he would get to abandon his post here. Especially if he continued his work with a more [i]focused[/i] approach.

Ro Nuul briskly strode through the assorted guests, stopping before two armed Hapen guards standing before Koren. Ro Nuul gave them a curt bow, before making eye contact with the Prince. [color=82ca9d]"I will be frank, your highness... I do not believe this moment is opportune for making friends of the Mand'alor. If you are willing to heed the recommendation of a local... I would suggest a more jovial spot to oversee the Founding celebration. If you would permit my company, I have great interest in learning more about the Hapes Consortium."[/color] Ro Nuul looked away for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought, before nodding quietly to himself and lifting a fold to his robes to reveal the electrum-plated lightsaber hanging from a sash on his waist. [color=82ca9d]"Perhaps we could reminisce about the old days as well."[/color]