revivalproject | Clarice's Event Catch-All

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Clarice's Event Catch-All | OTA

WHO: Clarice and youuuuuuuu
WHERE: Various places around Coruscant
WHAT: Exploring, investigating ... and being a bit of an art snob
WHEN: All through the event!
WARNINGS: None yet, but if anything worthy comes up I'll put it in the comment headers. <3

Starling had scarcely had time to get her bearings on Temba before she woke up on the ship, to the strange message. It hadn't taken much to wake her: she'd slept lightly, and took a speed-run of a shower, not wanting to waste the precious hot water afforded to the crew. She didn't want to step out onto new ground and make the impression of a hot mess, after all. After combing out her damp hair, she put it up in a ponytail to keep it off her neck, then shook out her only set of clothes, judiciously inspecting the cashmere sweater for wrinkles and wishing for an iron. Ah well. It was what it was. She'd been provided with credit, at least. Maybe the first order of business - after breakfast - was to get something new to wear.

A: (In Person) Everything will always be alright - when we go shopping
The amount of options were even more staggering than New York, or Paris, Clarice marveled, as the taxi dropped her off in Coruscant's shopping district. She'd counted her credits on the ship, not wanting to be tacky in counting them in public.

She starts off by window shopping, browsing from store to store to get a feel for the prices and the styles: what people consider high fashion, lowbrow, and somewhere in between. She decides a sturdy outfit, something working-class, would be the best choice for back on Temba, but there was also nothing wrong with spoiling herself a little and having something that would make her look good should a situation call for it. Feel free to find her as she's molesting various pieces of clothing, rubbing it between her fingers to check texture or thread count, or as she's sitting down on a bench to try on a smart-looking yet rugged pair of boots.

B: (Network) And you told me all your plans - how you would never let them go
New as she is, Starling takes her responsibility and her new mission seriously. The mystery of Coruscant and the many people brought to Temba from this place has piqued her interest, and so her first thought as a newcomer is to seek them out. She takes out her comm device - a new, strange thing in itself - and taps on the garish pink icon, thinking a moment before composing her message.

Hello, everyone. My name is Clarice Starling. I only just arrived in Temba the day before we were sent here to Coruscant, and I admit that I have many questions ... particularly for those of you who are familiar with this world. In the interest of helping the Agri, would any of you be willing to sit with me for a brief interview of sorts? I would be more than willing to get you a cup of whatever equivalent to coffee they have here, or light lunch, to thank you for your time.

C: (In Person) A bittersweet, evocative song... that doesn't remind us of Musetta's Waltz
After a long day of investigating and attempting to do what she was brought here to do, Clarice changes into the nicer of the ensembles she's bought for herself: a jewel-green gown with a white shawl to stave off any evening chill. The opera house is advertising a new Bith opera, whatever that might mean, and Clarice shows up to purchase herself a ticket with confidence, sliding into the crowd as though she belongs there. Anyone who hasn't met her yet may just mistake her for a native, even as she purchases a program, hoping to learn a bit more about what she's about to indulge in.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes," he says, with a nod. "I'm from a little later than him, actually. At least a decade and a half, or a little longer." He hasn't asked Master Kenobi exactly how long it's been for him since the Purge started, and he doesn't plan to.

"Individual accounts," he echoes, thoughtfully. "Can I ask why? Just - you used the word interview, and to me that sounds...formal. Professional?"

"Interestin'," she said. She tended to subconsiously mask her accent less when she was analyzing data: possibly because her mind was focused more on other things.

"That's an old habit," Starling confessed. "I used to be ..." He wouldn't know what the FBI was, so she only paused a brief moment to decide how to describe it. "... part of a group that investigated certain types of crimes, where I'm from. Organized crime, or things that affected more than one location's jurisdiction."

"And interviewing people was part of that?" he asks, sounding less curious and more wary.

Product of being labeled a criminal himself, under a government with little to no regard for the well-being of prisoners.

That wariness pinged her like a beacon, but she didn't show it, still smiling as she nodded. "Yeah. Just for gathering information ... which is all I'm doing here. I have a certain set of skills, that's all, and they could come in handy for what the Agri want us to do. I figure ... yes, you're all from the same place in space, but you're still different people."

She infused her words with earnestness and let a little of her Southern accent creep in. She found people tended to think she sounded a little warmer when she used it, and that was to her advantage. "If I talk to you all separately, I might be able to find some commonalities that could lead to an answer for them."

"So, this isn't just curiosity but...data collection. In a way you've done before," he says, slowly. "Looking for patterns."

The drawl in the accent does, in fact, read as more Outer Rim to him. A little less of that formality.

"Exactly." Her smile widens just a bit at that, glad he's picking up what she's putting down. "Besides, I left them in the dust a while 'fore I showed up here. They ... Well. I won't bore you with th' details, but they set me up to fall. And I didn' appreciate that one bit."

"I don't know, that sounds like a story." So now she, what, wishes she could throw herself back into her work and prove herself, but got dragged here, instead?

He's quiet a few seconds, weighing options.

"Ok, let's find a place where we can talk that we're both comfortable with and also isn't way out in the open where anyone could overhear. Even just a personal account from me involves some pretty big potential future events."

"It is. I'll be happy to share a bit. Quid pro quo, maybe." The way she says it suggests she finds that absolutely hilarious for some strange reason, but is trying to downplay her amusement.

She thinks about it for a moment. They all have hotel rooms, but that's inappropriate and unprofessional.

"What about on one of our ships? No one would bother us there. I could pick up some food or drinks on the way."

He doesn't follow the not-Basic, and his brow furrows a little, but he thinks he gets the gist from context.

"Sure, that works for me. Which one's yours? Just tell me when and I'll meet you there."

"I believe it's called the First Breath," she replies. She makes a mental note to explain the Latin when she sees him, as she realizes it didn't make sense... and of course it wouldn't. Silly Starling.

"Would an hour from now be too soon? If not, what would you recommend I bring for refreshments? Clearly you know the food and drinks here better than I do."

"I kinda know the food and drink better? This is all pretty far outside of what I'm familiar with, too. Stuff from the cafe attached to the hotel should be fine. So, meet you outside of the First Breath in a hour." Sooner is better than later, he thinks, as far as opening the door a little more for some of the others from this galaxy to talk to her, and when they actually talk face to face he'll explain why.

He reaches to sign off and then pauses, and huffs a laugh. "I'm Ezra Bridger, by the way."

"Much obliged, Ezra," she says, softly echoing his laugh. "See you soon."

At the little cafe, she chooses sandwiches with thinly sliced bantha roast and imported traladon cheese, topped with aromatic grilled vegetables, then asks for them to be wrapped to go. After a brief conversation with the chef, she chose two bottles of Black Spire Brew and tucked them into the bag along with the sandwiches. Once she has everything, she sets out for the First Breath and lays their little spread out in the galley. She's not impressed by the rudimentary place settings or the ambiance, but then she reminds herself that this is an interview, not a dinner party. Ah, but Clarice, are the two really so different? A familiar voice sounds in her mind, as if he were really there with her ... and he is, insomuch as his memory roams the halls of her mind palace.

She gives a wistful sigh, then finds the slider by the door and adjusts the lights to be just a little less harsh. Not much, she thinks, but it will have to do. She covers the sandwiches and puts them in the refrigerator to keep them fresh until Ezra arrives, then pokes through the communication feed on her comm device until the appointed time, keeping an ear out.

Ezra sometimes has a little trouble keeping track of time, but this time he makes an effort, and shows up pretty close to an hour after they talk, and knocks on the hatch of the ship.

"Miss Sterling? Or, um, do you prefer just Clarice? I'm here."

"Starling," she corrected him gently, getting up to meet him. "But Clarice will be fine, Mr. Bridger. Please, come on in. I've brought us a nice lunch to thank you for your time. I hope you aren't lactose-intolerant or vegan."

"Starling, right, sorry. And just Ezra's fine for me." After a beat he adds. "And I'm sure the food is fine, too. I'll eat just about anything human digestible," he says, brightly.

She laughs as she leads him to the galley, where she's laid it all out as nicely as she can, two place settings kitty-corner to each other, so he isn't forced to stare across at her awkwardly for the entire conversation.

"You remind me of some've the boys I went to Quantico and UVA with," she quips, waiting for him to seat himself first like a proper hostess, even as she remembers that her natural accent made him a bit more comfortable over the network. "I really do 'preciate you giving me your time like this. D'you have anything else you wanna know 'bout me before we start?"

"Those are...schools you went to? Academies?" he asks, as he takes one of the seats.

"Right in one," Clarice smiles. "UVA stands for University of Virginia, and Quantico is the name of the place where they trained me to be part of the Bureau of Investigation. I studied psychology at UVA for four years, then I went on to Quantico for about five months. It's a fast program, but it's very demanding. Physical work just as much as studying."

She settles into her other chair and opens up her drink, holding it up in a toast. "To sharin' knowledge, Ezra."

Bureau of Investigation. Well, it doesn't sound as sinister on it's face as Imperial Security Bureau. Some sorts of things need investigation, no matter what sort of government is in charge, he supposes.

"To sharing knowledge," Ezra agrees, raising a glass. "Although," he equivocates, before he takes a sip. "I don't anything close to that sort of formal schooling. I uh, was a cadet at an Imperial Academy back on my home world for about month. But that was undercover work."

"Undercover, huh? That can be fun, but it can also be an absolute pain in the ass. Was it a long month?"

He makes an equivocating so-so gesture. "It had some tense moments, but I made a couple of real friends, and got one of them out completely before something worse happened to him. So. It wasn't so bad."

"That's good," she said, and meant it. The butcher paper her sandwich had been wrapped in rustled, and she smiled at the familiarity of it, so far from home. If she suspended her disbelief just long enough, she could be in the lunchroom at Quantico, talking to a cadet.

But maybe this was better.

"Sometimes it's hard to focus on what you were able to save, so I'm glad you can do that.
... One of the other folks I've talked to mentioned an Empire ... I'm going to make a slightly educated guess that this training academy was part of their system?"

Edited 2021-03-20 23:15 (UTC)

He snags the other sandwich and starts to unwrap it.

"Yeah, I was about ask what you'd learned about the history and political side already. When we are now, most of this galaxy is under the Republic. When I was born 900 or so years from now - literally, the day I was born - the Chancellor of the Republic declared himself Emperor," he says, not trying to hide his loathing. "And yeah, the academy I was at briefly is part of that system. A year long program that recruits teenagers into the Imperial military."

"Well, he sounds like a power-grabbing sonovabitch," she said, deciding that censoring herself was unnecessary around someone who, while young, could do undercover work and seemed to be more at ease when she acted less like an official. "If they needed to recruit people, they must not've been makin' a lotta friends."

She thought of starting in on her sandwich, but even in a more relaxed environment, she wasn't about to compromise her manners and eat before her guest. Instead, she busied herself with lifting the bread and making sure half of the contents wouldn't slodge out the back when she did take that coveted first bite.

He gets the sense she's waiting on him, so rather then reply immediately, he goes for a bite, and then makes a genuinely surprised and pleased noise. Remembering his own manners (mostly belatedly drilled into him by Hera) he swallows, before he says, sincerely, "Ok, that's really good."

He takes another sip of his drink.

"Yeah, the Emperor is straight up bad news. Um. The Jedi. Do you know anything about them?"

Clarice's Event Catch-All | OTA

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Ugh, player brain flub, there

oop, sorry! :P

No worries

Re: No worries

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