Chapter Eleven
Leslie was used to people watching her. With her personality and her long black curls, with her light eyes and bright smile—she was always looked at, always watched. It was something she was used to.
But with the dress, with the crown, with the jewelry and the make-up—people didn't just watch, they stared.
She kept her head high, eyes narrowed, face blank. She kept her gait light, tread soft, gliding through the other politicians as they all wandered, waiting.
She looked powerful. She felt powerful. She was powerful.
And intimidating.
And beautiful.
And only one person had the nerve to approach her.
She was gorgeous, this other person. Tall and willowy, with dark skin and white hair and pure green eyes. She wore a single strip of cloth wrapped around her legs, ceremonial war paint decorating her chest and back, bright on her near-black skin.
The most eye-catching part, though, wasn't her long legs or her bared breasts or the contrast between her skin and her hair. It was her crown, tall and bright and regal.
Her fingers—long and slender and graceful—skimmed along Leslie's naked shoulder, brushed some curls off her neck.
"You are a goddess."
Her voice was low and wispy at the same time, sensuous and seductive and alluring. Leslie turned her head, meeting the other woman's gaze. She smiled slightly—flirtatious and playful.
"Not at all, Your Majesty. Just a queen."
The other woman's hand trailed down her arm, tracing her veins.
"I am Lady Al-A'aha."
Leslie look down at the hand on her arm, slowly entwining their fingers.
"Reigning Queen Vaiasya of Devna."
Al-A'aha rubbed her thumb over Leslie's knuckles.
"People are watching us."
Leslie slowly—seductively—brought Al-A'aha's hand to her mouth, kissing the back of it.
"Of course they are."
Al-A'aha laughed, the sound low—like her voice—and coming from the back of her throat. Leslie smiled; not the one her men saw, not anywhere close to that. This smile was devious and mildly amused. The type of smile one would see on a queen.
Al-A'aha returned the smile with a small one of her own, equally as devious and regal. Leslie turned her attention back towards the crowd.
She was used to people watching, and people were watching. It was better now, though.
Now she had an ally.
The first night of the conference was full of fancy food and fake smiles. Leslie and Al-A'aha stuck together, flirted with each other, flirted with others.
Leslie kept her attention around her, though. She watched and listened and learned. She kept in mind her mission: she was here to gather information about anything, about everything. For little things that could lead to big things.
It wasn't until the third day, after all the meetings and discussions, after many hours spent beside Al-A'aha, that something exciting happened. She was walking back to her suite, taking her time, enjoying the peace of nighttime.
"Your Majesty."
Leslie paused. She knew that voice. She'd heard it speaking every day during the conference. Count Dooku was approaching her, his cape fluttering behind him as he walked. She tipped her head slightly in greeting. He halted in front of her.
"Would you like company as you continue your walk?"
Leslie held her arm out, waiting, in silent acquiesce. The count placed his arm under hers, the other one going behind his back, the image of a perfect gentleman. Leslie made sure to slow her already meandering pace, and he matched it evenly.
They walked in silence for many minutes. She was waiting—and she was good at waiting. The count was the one to speak.
"Are you enjoying your stay?"
Leslie took a moment to answer, making sure she used the right accent before she spoke.
"The rooms are very comfortable."
The count led her out of the building and to one of the walking paths. He didn't say anything else, and Leslie allowed a small, mildly amused smile onto her face.
"You have something you wish to talk about."
The count nodded his head slowly.
"You are a very powerful leader among the others present."
Leslie tipped her head again, this time in acknowledgement.
"That is quite a compliment, count."
Dooku made a noise in his throat before he continued speaking.
"Has Devna decided if it is joining our cause?"
Leslie looked at him fully, one eyebrow arched gracefully.
"Do I have a choice if I wish to leave alive?"
She had to admit, the count had a well-crafted faux surprise face.
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Your Majesty."
Leslie held his gaze, then moved quickly—so quickly he didn't have time to react. Her fingers closed around the cylinder of his lightsaber and she held it up.
"I might be from a secluded planet, count, but my people and I are not nearly as ignorant as you seem to think we are."
The count eyed her carefully, but didn't make any threatening movements towards her. She knew her men were listening to their conversation through her earbead, knew they were recording it, knew they were ready to come to her aid if she needed it.
She activated the lightsaber, studying the red beam of energy.
"I know about the Jedi, and the fallen Jedi. The red indicates you have fallen. I know what the fallen Jedi are known for, and I know what causes them to be discharged from the Order. So, count, I will repeat my question. Do I have the option of denying your cause if I wish to leave this conference alive?"
Count Dooku remained quiet for many moments, just looking at her. She held the activated lightsaber loosely in her hand, met his gaze evenly.
"You do have a choice, Your Majesty."
She deactivated the lightsaber and handed it back to him. He clipped it back onto his belt and offered his arm again. She accepted and they finished their walk in silence.
She knew that when they had started the walk she hadn't had a choice.
She knew, true to his word, that now she did.
It was early morning—near moon-high—when she finally returned to her suite. She closed the door, locking it, and let out a breath.
Her neck hurt from the weight of the headdress—it was surprisingly heavy—and from holding her head upright so long. Her head hurt from maintaining the cover of the queen. Her mind hurt from the work of strengthening her shield, and keeping it up at that level.
Needless to say, she was exhausted. She wanted sleep.
"Vien-myesa, goddess."
Leslie closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them Al-A'aha was standing in front of her, upper body bare of everything, including the ceremonial paint, crown removed, shoes off.
Soft fingers brushed at Leslie's curls, wove through her hair, gently removed the headdress. Leslie sighed with relief, leaning towards the other woman. Al-A'aha stepped closer, her fingers next finding the pins holding up Leslie's hair, pulling them out. Her curls fell around her shoulders, strands at a time.
Al-A'aha kept her eyes on her hands, careful not to pull at Leslie's hair.
"Have you decided whether your people will become part of this confederacy?"
Leslie's eyes had closed, enjoying the feel of Al-A'aha's hands in her hair. She opened them slowly, looking out the window of her room, staring at the moon.
"I have much to consider before I decide."
Al-A'aha finished removing the pins and placed her hands on Leslie's shoulders, gently turning the other woman around. Leslie obliged, pulling her hair over one shoulder, baring her upper back and the ties of her dress. Moments later she felt Al-A'aha's fingers brushing across her skin as the dark-skinned woman slowly undid the ties.
Al-A'aha was silent, focusing on her task. She didn't speak until all the ties had been released.
"Are you so arrogant to think we actually have a choice, goddess?"
Leslie leaned forwards slightly, letting the dress fall off her body, turning around to face the other woman again.
"So you also know the count will kill us if we refuse?"
Al-A'aha moved her attention to the jewelry Leslie wore, starting to take that off, too.
"I do. But I think I will join this confederacy anyways. Their leaders are twisted, but that Republic is not much better."
Leslie tipped her head back slightly as Al-A'aha reached for the necklaces fastened around her throat.
"I think that the safest choice for Devna is to join the Independent Systems before things become worse."
Al-A'aha finished removing the jewelry and Leslie was left in the sheer underdress and soft shoes. Al-A'aha straightened up, flicking her long straight hair behind her slender shoulders.
"You expect this war to become worse?"
Leslie walked over to the large sofa, sinking into the plush cushions. Al-A'aha settled beside her. Leslie shifted to get more comfortable.
"I expect this war to create something worse than whatever is happening now."
Al-A'aha gently tugged Leslie down, pulling her body into her lap, long fingers working through her curls.
"Why is this confederacy safer than staying neutral?"
Leslie stared up at the ceiling, studying the intricate designs engraved into it.
"If this war is looked at as a game, the Confederacy knows the rules better than the Republic does, and is winning the game. The Neutral Systems are caught in the middle, and destroyed anyways."
Al-A'aha traced Leslie's face lightly with her nails.
"But the reports given are of the Republic winning the war."
Leslie closed her eyes, relaxing against Al-A'aha's touch.
"They are winning the war, but not the game."
Al-A'aha shifted Leslie slightly, cradling her head in one arm.
"You see this war as a game?"
Leslie opened her eyes, meeting the other woman's pure green gaze.
"No. But there is someone very powerful on either side that does."
Al-A'aha brushed her fingers across Leslie's eyes and they fluttered shut again. The dark-skinned woman trailed her hand down Leslie's neck, gently massaging the tired muscles.
"Should I ask how you are aware of this?"
Leslie laughed tiredly.
"Probably."
Al-A'aha smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss between Leslie's closed eyes.
"I am wise enough to know not to."
Leslie just smiled, exhaustion finally winning over. Al-A'aha continued massaging her neck. Leslie fell asleep warm and happy.
Ink knew he probably shouldn't have hacked the camera feeds from the surveillance that was set up around the building the conference was taking place in. There was a chance it could be tracked back to them if someone tried hard enough.
He couldn't help it, though.
The first two days of the conference were boring, except for the flirtation between Leslie and the other queen. The third day was just as bad, until the night. Different cameras picked up different parts of the walk, and the earbead captured the entire conversation.
Then there was the talk between Leslie and the queen. There weren't any cameras in the suites, so Ink couldn't see what was happening. He could hear, though, and he could imagine.
The sounds of clothes being removed.
The queen's voice—low and seductive.
The shifts of bodies moving closer.
Kriff.
He knew Omari would ask him about this mission. He knew she'd ask about his thoughts on the other queen once he told her. He knew.
And he could just imagine the fun she'd have with it.
She'd already told him if he wanted—and if Leslie wanted—she wouldn't mind opening their relationship—sexual and otherwise—to her best friend. He wondered if the offer extended to other women he was attracted to, or to other men she was attracted to.
He wouldn't mind sharing Omari with Leslie or another woman or another man. He wouldn't mind Omari sharing him with Leslie or another man or another woman.
So when he heard the unmistakable sound of a kiss, he could only imagine where it had been and what was happening. And he had quite the imagination.
'Mari really is going to enjoy hearing about this.
He closed his eyes, trying to fight away the images in his head, trying to focus on what he was supposed to be paying attention to.
Kriff.
Falcon was the one to answer the call. Leslie's comlink had been beeping on and off for the past three days, indicating someone trying to reach her repeatedly. He finally decided that it was important enough to override her privacy and answer it.
He was surprised when Zey's image appeared before him, looking almost frantic. He came to attention, saluting.
"General Zey."
The Jedi didn't seem at all shocked that he was the one to answer Leslie's comlink.
"There's been a situation with General Skywalker's Padawan. According to Skywalker, Miss Rodriguez and Padawan Tano are close. He would like her assistance. Please inform Miss Rodriguez as soon as possible."
Falcon nodded once.
"Yes, sir."
Zey nodded once and signed off. Falcon sighed. The conference could go on for weeks, and communication with his leader was one-way. They could only hear what was happening on her end.
He sighed again and sought out Rev.
"Sarge."
Rev paused in what he was doing and turned to face Falcon.
"Yes?"
Falcon bit his tongue before continuing.
"I have a message for Miss Leslie from General Zey. I need a way to get into the conference."
Falcon got into Leslie's suite easily enough. There wasn't much security, and the droids were easily fooled. He was expecting some sort of surprise from Leslie. He wasn't expecting the surprise to be Leslie curled in the arms of a half-naked woman, though.
He crept closer, careful not to make a sound. He reached Leslie's side and pressed two fingers against her wrist. Her eyes fluttered open, and he felt her pulse jump for a moment before it fell back to its normal pace.
He indicated another room and Leslie nodded, carefully slipping out of the other queen's arms. She padded into the in-suite kitchen. She poured a mug of tea and handed it to Falcon before pouring one for herself. She jumped onto the counter, facing Falcon, sipping the tea.
"What's up, love?"
He took a hesitant taste of the tea.
"Zey tried to call you. Something happened with Skywalker's Padawan, and they think you can help."
Leslie's brow furrowed slightly.
"Did he say what happened?"
Falcon shook his head, gulping the tea. Leslie huffed softly.
"That's not very helpful."
A small smile curved at Falcon's lips.
"I know, Miss Leslie."
Al-A'aha entered the kitchen, pulling a piece of fruit out of the conservator. Falcon watched the other woman carefully, ready to take her out if she was a threat. Leslie pressed her forefinger to her thumb, a silent gesture of 'no.' He stepped back slightly, but didn't relax. Leslie turned to Al-A'aha.
"You are going to ask a question."
Al-A'aha laughed quietly.
"I knew you were not the queen of Devna when I saw you. I have met the queen. You are much better than she is."
Leslie smiled, not bothering to keep up the façade any longer.
"Thank you."
Al-A'aha took another bite of her fruit.
"You are a Republic spy. This man is your tube-born soldier, is he not?"
Leslie finished her tea.
"His name is Falcon."
Al-A'aha nodded once to Falcon in acknowledgement.
"That is a fierce name."
Leslie laughed.
"He is a fierce man."
Falcon knew his ears were red, and could feel the heat starting to travel across his cheeks. Al-A'aha laughed happily when she saw his blush.
"He is more likeable than those machine used by this confederacy."
Leslie nodded her agreement.
"He is."
Al-A'aha finished the fruit and approached Falcon.
"I will keep your secret, goddess. I will keep your man and your identity quiet."
She traced her nails gently down Falcon's cheek. His blush intensified and he straightened, instinctively falling into parade rest.
"With all due respect, what proof do we have you are trustworthy, Your Majesty?"
Al-A'aha looked at Leslie over her shoulder.
"He is a clever man, too. Intelligence is attractive."
Falcon knew his entire face was bright red at this point. Al-A'aha chuckled low in her throat, pressing close against him, lips brushing his ear as she spoke.
"As a queen, I have learned what enemies to make. Your lady Leslie is not one I wish to have against me."
Leslie heard her and laughed, putting her empty mug in the sink. Al-A'aha smiled and stepped back to Leslie, cupping her cheek in one hand. She stared into her eyes, pure green to pale blue.
"And, goddess, you are too beautiful. I have no desire to ruin your beauty with your secrets."
Falcon watched the interaction curiously. Leslie leaned into the other woman's touch, turning her head to kiss her palm. She didn't say anything, but it seemed Al-A'aha wasn't expecting a verbal response. She leaned down, pressing her lips to Leslie's. Leslie kissed back, soft and sensuous.
Falcon remained quiet, waiting. The kiss lasted many moments. When Al-A'aha pulled back, she was smiling.
"I will see you later today, goddess."
Leslie smiled and nodded. Al-A'aha left without another word and Leslie turned to Falcon. His face was impassive and she laughed.
"What did you think?"
Falcon thought for a moment.
"She was beautiful. And smart. She'd be a good ally, Miss Leslie."
Leslie nodded her agreement.
"She would. She is."
She walked back into the main room and Falcon followed. She picked up her dress from the floor where it was from earlier in the morning. She handed it to Falcon and he helped her into it. She stood perfectly still, patient as his fingers fumbled with the ties.
"Today's meetings don't start until noon. Stay with me until then. I miss you guys."
Falcon finally finished with the ties and he reached for the headdress, moving to Leslie's front so he could put it on correctly.
"It's only been four days, Miss Leslie."
She smiled up at him cheekily.
"Four days I haven't been able to cause trouble."
Falcon thought of the tall, dark-skinned woman that had left the suite minutes earlier.
"For some particular reason I don't believe you, Miss Leslie."
She laughed brightly and he smiled.
The next few days of meetings and talks were more fun.
Leslie and Al-A'aha now shared a secret, and that created a sense of excitement. They shared looks and touches and whispers and smiles. They had silent conversations in public, and audible ones in private.
Leslie got to see Al-A'aha's suite. They filled the large tub with hot water and fluffy bubbles and spent an evening drinking Corellian whiskey surrounded by sweet-scented candles and all those bubbles.
Another evening Falcon returned, armed with food and cooking supplies. He made them one of his specialty dinners while they lay on the balcony, studying the night sky and sharing stories about their home planets.
Leslie learned about Al-A'aha's childhood and family and life. The dark-skinned woman loved to tell stories, and they were exciting and fierce.
"My grandmother was a warrior, the best from our tribe. The king fell in love with her abilities before he fell in love with her. He inducted her into his personal guard, and then gradually came to love her for her intelligence and her wit. They took each other as lovers, and had three children, my mother the youngest of them."
Leslie was draped over her, her head on her chest, Al-A'aha's arms wrapped around her body. The curly-haired woman nuzzled her chest slightly.
"You're fierce like your grandmother."
Al-A'aha laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her chest.
"She's who I aspire to be. I asked to be trained as a warrior before I was trained as queen."
Leslie smiled.
"A warrior queen."
Al-A'aha made a sound of affirmation and they fell into silence. Falcon appeared in the doorway.
"Miss Leslie, Lady Queen."
They both tilted their heads to look up at him. He gestured the living area of the suite.
"It's all ready."
Leslie scrambled up.
"Oh, good. I'm hungry."
She gave Falcon a quick kiss on the cheek.
"You're the best, love."
Al-A'aha rose from the ground gracefully, sauntering past Falcon. She ran her fingers along his jawbone as she passed him.
"Intelligent and a chef. You have quite the taste in men, goddess."
Leslie looked at her from where she was settled on the sofa.
"I have four more in my ship. They were all given to me courtesy of the Republic."
Al-A'aha sank into the sofa beside Leslie.
"Could I borrow one of these men if I ever visit you?"
Leslie laughed and took a bite of food.
"You'd have to talk to them about it."
Al-A'aha looked at Falcon who was busy washing the dishes used during meal preparation.
"Soldier."
Falcon straightened.
"Ma'am?"
Al-A'aha smiled.
"Would you like to come visit my home planet with me?"
Falcon's face started turning pink as a blush took over and his gaze darted to Leslie. She gave him a reassuring smile.
"You're decision, love. Yes or no, it's up to you."
Falcon nodded.
"I would like to, Lady Queen, but I am bound by duty to Miss Leslie and to the Republic. I can't visit Separatist-aligned planets."
Al-A'aha eyed him speculatively.
"Not duty, soldier. You are bound by your loyalty. That is admirable."
Leslie laughed.
"They are all as amazing."
Al-A'aha tucked into the dinner and Falcon returned to washing the dishes. The dark-skinned woman chewed thoughtfully.
"You surround yourself with good people."
Leslie smiled, curling closer to the queen.
"Yes I do."
Ink missed Omari. It was a rule that he couldn't contact her during missions, in case it compromised him. Usually, he was okay with that, but on extended assignments like this, he realized just how much she was a part of him.
Ray looked over at him.
"You good, vod?"
Ink nodded. Dagger snickered.
"He's homesick."
Ink chuckled.
"When you have a lover to go back to, vod, you'll be homesick, too."
Dagger's lips curled into a small grin and he returned his focus to the knife he was sharpening. Ink sighed and glanced at his comlink.
Rev laughed.
"As soon as we leave orbit, you can call her."
Ink sighed again but nodded his agreement.
As soon as we leave orbit.
He glanced in the direction of the building Leslie was in.
Please hurry up with this shabla conference.
Leslie was bored.
Al-A'aha had opted out of today's meetings. The senators and diplomats were just restating the same things they'd been saying since they first arrived. She'd gathered all information she could possibly get from this conference.
She was bored.
And bored never led to anything good. It led to fun, but not to good.
Before she could figure out a way to alleviate her boredom, though, Count Dooku approached her. It was during a break in the meetings, and she'd been sitting in a back corner, watching everything through icy eyes.
He paused in front of, giving a small bow in greeting. She tipped her head slightly.
"Count."
He held out his arm.
"Would you like to walk, Your Majesty?"
Slowly, fluidly, with all the grace of the royalty she was pretending to be, she stood up, placing her arm on his.
"A walk would be a relieving form of entertainment."
They moved out of the room quickly, out into the garden again. Leslie remained silent, waiting for the count to say something. She had no problem waiting, as long as she wasn't in the meetings. Finally, the count spoke.
"Have you decided on your allegiance, Queen Vaiasya?"
Leslie studied a bush of flowers directly in front of her.
"I think it is safest if Devna were to join your confederacy."
The she feel the count's surprised in the way his muscles twitched slightly.
"Oh? What has convinced you of this?"
She arched an eyebrow, looked up at the count.
"Don't play coy. You are not nearly that stupid."
The count's lips curled up into an amused smile.
"You are a wise queen."
Leslie turned to face the flowers again.
"I simply work for the protection of my people."
The count was silent for a moment.
"You are not the queen of Devna."
Leslie looked up at him again, lips curled into the sarcastically amused smile she usually gave Zey.
"If you think so, why am I not dead?"
The count actually chuckled.
"You said it yourself, Your Majesty. I'm not nearly that stupid."
He turned them back towards the building.
"I do not know who you are, but you are aligning a planet with the CIS. Your "planet's" allegiance is helping me to reach the goal set for me. There is no point in killing you."
Leslie made a noise of amusement.
"I'm glad you think so, count."
He held the door open, gestured she enter.
"I am also certain you are not here alone. I do not wish to start a war on this planet."
Leslie flicked the loose curls over her shoulder, giving him that sarcastically sweet smile.
"Like I said, count, you're not nearly that stupid."
Leslie sat on the couch, Al-A'aha on the floor between her legs. She ran her fingers through her long straight hair, watching the movements.
"I leave with my men tomorrow."
Al-A'aha closed her eyes, tilted her head back.
"I figured so. You don't seem to be one who stays."
Leslie laughed softly, not answering verbally. Al-A'aha shifted slightly, eyes opening.
"You have aligned Devna with this confederacy?"
Leslie nodded.
"It is the safest decision for them."
Al-A'aha echoed her nod.
"Same for my planet. You are right, goddess. I have spoken to my advisors, done some research on this war. Your analysis was correct."
Leslie quirked a brow playfully.
"You thought it wasn't?"
Al-A'aha laughed low in her throat.
"I always double check."
Leslie leaned down, pressing a kiss to the other woman's lips.
"I think I might miss you."
Al-A'aha laughed again, turning around and rising up onto her knees. She wrapped her arms around Leslie's neck, lacing her fingers together.
"You are always welcome to visit me, goddess. Bring your men. If they can all cook as your Falcon can, they will be honored guests in my court."
Leslie laughed.
"Falcon is the best chef, but they all have specialties."
Al-A'aha smiled.
"Then when you visit, they can show me those specialties."
Leslie rested her cheek against Al-A'aha's.
"One more bath, maybe?"
She felt Al-A'aha's smile as the other woman started to stand.
"I will ask the service droids for the alcohol you like."
Leslie stood up, too.
"I'll get the bubbles."
It was a good last night.
At the exact moment the ship indicated they were out of orbit, Ink had a secure channel open to Omari. She answered, hair wild, eyes sleepy, skin glowing from the blue light of her comlink.
"I was asleep."
Ink grinned.
"Sorry, cyar'ika. Just wanted to see you."
Omari remained entirely unimpressed.
"You have, now."
Ink chuckled.
"We'll be back in about four days, unless we make a stop."
Omari just made a noise in the back of her throat. Ink bit back another chuckle. Omari suddenly perked up.
"How's the dress?"
Ink blinked.
"What dress?"
She gave him a look expressing her mild irritation at his ignorance.
"The queen dress."
Ink glanced at where the article of clothing hung in perfect condition.
"Exactly the same."
He eyed Omari curiously.
"Why?"
She just relaxed back against her pillows.
"I'll see you in four days."
Ink smiled.
"Miss you, too, cyar'ika."
Her lips curled into a small grin before she cut the signal. Ink placed his comlink beside him and looked back at the dress.
Falcon looked up at him from where he sat on the floor.
"Problem, vod?"
Ink stared at the dress.
"'Mari was worried more about the dress than anything else."
Falcon shrugged.
"Maybe it's her favorite one."
Ink shook his head thoughtfully.
"It was like the dress was important. Like it was really for royalty."
He sighed and a small smile appeared on his face.
"It's a nice dress, though. I'd be worried about it, too."
He looked at Falcon. His brother had gone completely still, eyes unfocused staring at the ground. Ink furrowed his brow.
"Vod?"
Falcon opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Leslie entering the room. She smiled brightly at them but didn't say anything, moving towards the 'fresher.
Falcon was mumbling words under his breath.
"Public figure. Bethany Foy. Ri'yanna Foy. Changed name. Queen's dress."
Ink's eyes widened as he realized what his brother had figured out. They both looked up, watching as Leslie exited the 'fresher and joined Ray in the cockpit.
Things suddenly made sense.
Why no one could know Jango Fett was her father.
Why she'd been placed under Sev's protection.
Why she knew how to talk to people in certain ways, take charge of meetings with a few words and looks.
Why she was able to play the slave on that mission, why she knew the place.
Because the slave's outfit had looked familiar on her, but she wasn't a runaway.
No, it wasn't that.
The slave's outfit had looked familiar, but the queen's outfit—
Ink glanced at the dress again.
It had looked right.
I'm so bad at updating and I'm so sorry. But! This is starting the 2nd half of the story! More on Leslie's history to come ;)
Read, review.
Cheers!
