(Prompt request: 63. "What do you mean? It's exciting!"
Featuring Nine in her Intelligence training days... and a guest we'll meet soon enough.)
sharks"Why not?"
She frowns, running one finger beneath her collar when she's pretty sure no one else is watching. It's far too warm in here to be comfortable, the air heavy with perfume and candle smoke. "As soon as we're done I'm going back to the dormitories. This place feels wrong."
"What do you mean? It's exciting!" Aylee's staring, wide-eyed and too eager, at the cluster of Sith and hangers-on standing near them in the slowly-emptying ballroom. "And you heard what they said- things are just getting started. Let's go upstairs. Come on."
"We're supposed to be working until midnight." Her back aches from standing but she doesn't dare lean against the doorframe, not with so many cameras around. This assignment's as much a test as any classroom exercise they've been given this year, even if it is a gala. "You know what our instructions were."
Rolling her eyes, Aylee goes back to gawking. (The girl acts like she's never seen a Sith Lord before, but she did come from the Ziost academy- maybe she really hasn't. Not like home, where even when she was a child one couldn't cross the street without some big-headed apprentice threatening to skewer one for getting underfoot.) "You used to be fun. Last weekend I had to drag you off that guy to make it back by curfew."
"It was our night off, so that's not a fair comparison. And you saw him. Can you really blame-" She cuts off the phrase abruptly as a silk-robed woman lingers too long at the doorway between them; meeting the woman's eye, she shakes her head tersely before she catches sight of the hilt tethered to her sash.
Uh-oh. They're meant to be guarding the off-limits area, two to a door like the rest of their class cohort, but if a Darth wants through it's not like her little pistol's going to do a damned thing against a lightsaber blade-
The woman moves on and she sighs in relief, then makes a face. "See? I'm not hanging around a minute longer than ordered, and neither should you."
"And it's-" their chronos chime the hour, in perfect synchrony- "midnight. Party time."
Before she can stop her, Aylee's halfway gone across the room, unfastening her collar and the top buttons of her jacket as she goes. She doesn't bother calling out after her. It isn't worth it; Aylee's clever enough but never could follow instructions, bending all their tasks to suit herself. She'll scrub out by year's end at this rate.
It is midnight, though. Her orders didn't say anything about waiting to be dismissed so it's time to get out of here, not a moment too soon- if the dancing in the center of the space was restrained an hour ago it's devolved into something… well. She heard what happened to that Chiss in the third-year class, how he was so fucking proud to have a Sith patron until they found him wandering outside Darth Valascis' estate half-naked and screaming, and there's no way any of their pretty promises are worth the risk of ending up like that.
The exit's at the far end of the ballroom and she walks quickly, heels too loud against the marble floor, as Seb and Daivi break from their post ahead of her and slip through the huge carved doors to the foyer beyond. At least she isn't the only one eager to escape- oh.
"Leaving so soon?" She's yanked back and nearly off her feet by a Sith in species as well as in power, skin red and eyes yellow and talons sharp enough to pierce through her sleeve as his hand wraps tight around her wrist. "Oh, but you mustn't. We're only just getting started."
Another hand on her face, another Sith, breath hot on her cheek, gripping her chin to shift her head into profile. "Look at that complexion, darling," the woman purrs. "Like cream- imagine the contrast. How perfect."
She stiffens. Void, their touch almost burns her- "Please, my lords. I can't-"
"I insist." Beneath the pleasantries there's malice buried in his tone as he starts to pull her back toward the stairs to the balcony level. "Now come along, my dear, and-"
"Cadet Barra." The sound of her surname, somewhere behind her, snaps her back to attention; she turns, breaking free of their touch. "Where do you think you're going? You're expected back at quarters."
She can't quite place him at first glance, though he seems familiar and clearly, he knows her- scar-bordered cybernetics covering one eye and much of his lower jaw, dark hair flecked with grey and wearing the rank bars of an Army major, the man clamps one hand down on her shoulder and, ignoring the snarls of protest from the pair of Sith, steers her to and through the doorway before she can even muster a response.
He doesn't stop moving until they're clear of the estate and, on the pavement outside, finally lets her go. "My apologies if I misread the situation, cadet, but I rather got the impression you weren't going willingly."
"No, sir." The chill outside's a welcome change; she takes a deep breath and then another. "No. I wasn't. Thank you, sir."
"There are people in that room who would have given a great deal to have taken your place," he says. "But not you. Why?"
She arches an eyebrow, folds her arms across her chest. "That's a very personal question, Major-?"
"Ruana. Galen Ruana." That's where she knows him- Lydie's patron and one of the upper level instructors, a liaison from Army Intelligence. She'd only seen him in the corridors once or twice, but she recognizes the name. "And I'm merely curious. You needn't answer- though I did tell the Director this assignment was unwise. A room full of sharks, and he dangles you in front of them like so much bait."
She nods. "I suppose that was part of the exercise, wasn't it? A test of judgment."
"You're likely right." She's definitely right. She can tell by the way he smiles. "But still, your choice would have been to leave?"
"I- sir, permission to speak freely?"
"Granted, Barra."
She shrugs. "I didn't like the way they looked at me, sir. Like sharks, as you said, but part of me thinks it wouldn't be a metaphor. That they might actually just eat me."
"Then you learned that lesson far younger than I did. Good for you." Glancing back over his shoulder, he shakes his head at whatever he sees and when she turns, too, two shadowed figures flicker at the far edge of her vision as a hovercar rounds the corner to pause in front of them. "Though I'd suggest you not walk back alone."
"It's only three blocks, sir. I'd manage."
"No," he says, "you wouldn't. I'll drop you by the dormitory. I insist."
At least this one, she thinks, isn't going to swallow her up. "Yes, sir."