NationStates Jolt Archive

7:30AM, Ankara F'yen, Capital of Ankara
It was a warm morning in AA, and almost a week since the invitation cards to all teh various envoys had been sent out. Foreign Minister Boran Suntelo read the card he had kept as a draught for the sixth time. He smiled, and putting it away in his pocket. Stepping out of his terraced house in the capital of Ankara F'yen. Stepping outside, he could feel the lack of the air conditioning and the harsh su beating down on him. Beginning to walk, he looked around. A broken APC on the sideroad, two engineers trying to open it's engine box. Three schoolgirls walking to their college together, tanned beige uniforms blending into everything else. Although a foreigner might, Suntelo thought nothing of the way even the military had infiltrated education. Turning the corner, he almost bumped into someone. Typically, he would have apologised with a "Sorry, Comrade! I should watch my step next time!" Which, no doubt, the other would have replied, but after taking a step back, dusting his formal (For Ankara, Military dress of any kind is formal) dark green camo pants off and looking up, he saw that the person was his good friend Aris Yalara, Minister of Economical Development for a city up north, Ankara Ban'Tair.

"Aris, my comrade, how are you!" Suntelo shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Oh, not bad, yourself?" He replied with a grin.

"I'm fine- but what are you doing in our glorious capital?" Suntelo asked quizzically.

"Ah, I just arrived from early morning railroad trip. I'm here on government business - something about setting up an aircraft factory in west Ban'Tair." He told Suntelo. "There's been a lack of jobs recently" He frowned.

"I see. Well, good luck with that. See you around, Comrade!" The two shook hands, and parted, both heading their own ways. Boran proceeded to the airport, the very famous 18 kilometre runway in his mind. Maybe the "Firebird of Ankara" would be docked today. What a site for potential visitors!

[OOC: http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=9818547#post9818547 Signup thread]]

[OOC: Some EAC related stuff - http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=9818696&postcount=2]

A sleek, black plane decended slowly to the ground, touching the tarmack of the airport's only runway and skidding to a halt some distance down the grey, paved surface. A Praetonian plane. And a Praetonian airport. Of course. The plane was carrying a senior Foreign Office Official to meet officials of the East Ankara Company and conference with the Ankaran Government, and it just wouldnt do for a senior Foreign Office official to be forced to endure an Ankaran Airport.

The Ankarans didnt mind. The Praetonians kept themselves to themselves for the most part and, despite doing little obvious to deserve it, had won the respect of the largely uneducated masses in Ankara. The Government, they suspected, did not like EAC one bit, but they were afraid. Praetonian forces had handed them their revolution, and now Praetonian business controlled their future. The Government knew that it was not in the interests of EAC or anyone else to destabilise their rule or cause any real trouble... so long as the Government toed the Company line. The Company, on the other hand, still needed the Government and it knew it. A war to prop up Praetonian control of Ankara would be too costly to warrant and too unpopular to countenance politically.

"And so I have the pleasure to welcome you to Ankara," Mr Minus said, extending his hand to the Foreign Office official who had just decended the walkway from the plane to the ground, "I hope that The Company will be able to make your stay comfortable."

The official grasped his hand enthusiastically, "Carillus! It's always a pleasure..."

The Director General smiled to his friend with beaming eyes. Both men had been at school together, and both had made their success in various ways - the Director in a less conventional way than most.

"It's delightful to see your venture here in Ankara doing so well! Of course, it was not done without my help if you dont mind me saying so," the Civil Servant returned the smile. It was through his acts of persuation that the Foreign Secretary had been enlisted to help the scheme.

"Thankyou, Lucius. Now, if you will take a seat in the car," Carillus opened the door of a black, luxury car with two Praetonian flags fluttering from the front of the car and a large Company Coat of Arms (http://www.btinternet.com/~sa_sa/st_helena/images/east_india_arms.gif) painted on the bonnet. The two men sat side-by-side as the car began to pull out of the airport and into the streets populated by battered cars and bicycles. Any Ankarans who took notice of the car promptly resumed ignoring it as soon as he saw the EAC coat of arms on the bonnet.

"What a depressing place..." Chan Yuan Wells sighed, watching all the sand below as her plane was slowly engaging in what was universally known as 'landing'.

So much sand. Sand. Sand. And more... Sand. "That they made me... Argh. Oh well."

Her job was simple: Arrive, be nice and pleasant, generally have a good time, talk to people, establish contacts, bribe a few corrupt politicians and generals, and compose a report about whether Ankara Alphyaz was deserving further 'attention' or not.

In practise, there were issues... She'd just gotten used to live on her ship, again, but her brief - Not brief enough, all things considered. Giant nuclear detonations ripping entire nations apart weren't particularly pleasant. And the number of exceptionally unlikely adventures and missfortunes she had had to get through to get out of the radioactive mess... Well, it was a long and rather unpleasant story - stay in Hogsweat had resulted in parts of the administration believing that she was the right person to send to this kind of nation.

I should never have made that trip...

Alas, too late to change that, now. And indeed, the plane was already landing, slowly but surely.

Chan Juan Wells straightened her dress - Her old one(s) had been ripped during her escape from Haven, but as there was no shortage of them, no problems. And she liked the little black one she was wearing right now - and once the plane had landed, stepped out of it, looking around to see if someone was waiting for her.

Shit! It's hot!

Ankaran National Airport
It was interesting to see the contrast between the civilian part of the airport and the military one. While two old russian transport planes lay docile on the military side of the airstrip, one could easily see that the planes where well serviced and had good equipment. The civilian sector, however, had little in the way of furbishing or equipment. As the plane landed, the single passenger (or where there two?) was forced to walk from the plane directly to the airfield, against the thundering noise of two jet fighters landing. Once on the floor, a small van, which could have been mistaken for a slightly longer golf caddie, was waiting to pick up whoever landed.

Taking them directly to the waiting room, the caddie stopped outside the airport building itself, which was slowly falling apart as anyone who came from a country with a GDP PC over $11,000 could see. The waiting room was fairly nice: some old leather seats, a vending machine, a poster with pictures of ankaran tanks rolling across deserts and behind it the dictator, his fist raised in anger. The most noticable thing, atmosphere-wise anyway, was the air conditioning. It cooled the room down significantly and it would be a warm welcome for anyone who had just experienced Ankaran heat. The carpet was a light blue, and although it was tacky it had a soft feel. Sitting in a sofa on the far left, Boran Antano had his feet up and was reading the people's newspaper JA THE TRA'UATH, or just the truth in English. The title was very deceiving: inside lay lies of all kinds of which none where true. Noticing Chan Juan, he stood up, and moved to shake her hand.

"Hello! My name is Boran Suntelo - Foreign Minister for the Democratic Republic. You can call me Boran, or San, if you'd like. How was your flight? Would you like a drink?"

It had been such a long trip, the huge Han Taik Aerospace J-900 Passenger Jet had been travelling for what seemed like many hours over land and sea. Their destination was that of a small Nation, whom had just sent invitations for a diplomatic meeting of some kind. But all was well, Ambassador Joseph Uzile had been informed that this was a Green situation. Nothing to worry about. A sigh, thinking over these things as he gazed out the passenger window. Why they chose such a plane for this was unknown to him, but he knew many other people were on this airliner. Who they were he didn't know.

Nor did he care, his pad beeped as he grabbed it from his pocket, and gazed at it. They were landing on the designated airstrip. He felt a jolt as the plane touched down. Moments later coming to a halt. Two people had come to his seat, informed him of the landing and escorted him out the side hatch. Jospeh was warmly greeted by a caddie, and taken by vehicle to some kind of building.

He exited the vehicle, and went up to the door. Slowly, he reached his hand to open it.

OOC:

I would be more descriptive, but my "imaginitive" fuel is almost out. XD I'll edit it and force myself to do better if requested.

It had almost been spotted as an oasis amongst the deserts, Eleanor Clarke's vehicle landed with ultimate precision along each of the relevent tarmacs. Having also been told of the details, instructions, et cetera, she wasted no time at all in gathering her things and making a safe exit. And upon setting foot upon this place, she swore--glad to be wearing the 'right' gear, and sandels.

"Shit, this place is hot," she wiped her brow. "I hope I brought that extra bottle of sunscreen."

Spotting a smallish group of individuals, she slung her gear over her shoulder and headed towards them, recognizing a delegate from both Der Angst, Anagonia, and Praetonia immediatly.

"What do you mean I have to pack light?"

"It's hot as shit there. You'd better take some sunscreen."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how hot Nicksia gets? This is like 10 degrees hotter. Celcius."

Shit. Carl Pearson shook his head at the instructions from Deputy Senior Vice President and External Affairs Officer Grant Haffner. In spite of Sarzonia's longstanding policy against having diplomatic relations with dictatorial regimes, Haffner was instructing Pearson to travel over there anyway.

"Dude, you're so not going to need anything cold. Unless it's a cold drink when you land. Hope your room has air conditioning bud," Haffner said before he turned and left.

"Why do I get this assignment," Pearson sighed. He finished packing and walked out to find a taxi waiting for him to take him to the Jetport. No matter how long the flight to Ankara Alphyaz would be, it would always seem a lot longer, much like travelling down the River Styx.

Granted, given the nation she was visiting, Chan Juan was hardly surprised when it came to the local conditions. Still... She'd have expected a little more efford.

Well, she could hardly change it, and, glanding the appropriate substances necessary to deal with the excessive heat - Disregarding some of the artificial islands, DA was generally having a considerably cooler climate - she made her way towards the car, muttering briefly about the jets and their noise.

A brief chuckle as she arrived at the building. Someone needs a little help, I guess. No matter, of course... Again, frustrating, but to be expected.

She entered, instantly raising her own fist, imitating the dictator on the poster. Only for a moment, of course - She supposed that it could be taken both ways. Polite or insulting.

Not too bad, I guess, she thought, looking around in what equalised a rather shoddy lounge. Still, she wouldn't have minded company... The trip had been a little boring. But her companion from the visit in Hogsweat had rather audibly refused to join her - It suspected that foreign countries tended to detonate on a regular basis, and didn't want to risk another disaster of this sort. That Ankara Alphyaz didn't actually have any nuclear ordinance hadn't been sufficient to convince it that the trip was vaguely safe...

That is a foreign minister? She had trouble avoiding a chuckle as she returned the gesture, shaking his hand, nodding. "Chan Yuan Wells, envoy, DA, I guess... Pleased to meet you, Boran." Brief hesitation and a smile that at least looked genuine. "Oh, just call be Yuan, then. Oh, and fairly pleasant - The weather was surprisingly non-violent. Mhm... Drink... Is there anything you'd recommend?"

She barely resisted asking for 'The strongest you have'.

"That's good." The Foreign Minister said. Thoughtfully, his pupils drifted to ceiling and back down again. "Well, if you're looking for something cold, which you probably are -" With that, the Foreign Minister picked up a remote control and turned the aircon a notch or two colder. "Then, there's a little drink we have called Roca Roca. It's a little fizzy but it's refreshing. Unless you're looking for something alcoholic... normally it's banned for women unless it's sunday, but I dont' really care for that rule. I suppose I could get some Sandman or something. It's not really like anyone is in a position to stop me."

As soon as the Foreign Minister finished talking, the door creaked open and in came the Anagonian and Austarian (right?) representatives.

"Hold on a minute" Boran whispered to Yuan and he turned around, putting on his best grin for the pair. Extending a hand to each, one by one he shook and welcomed them. "I hope your flight was good - welcome to Ankara Alphyaz. I am Boran Suntelo, Foreign Minister, although if you'd like you can call me Boran or San."

He motioned to the three. "Come, sit down. I'll get some... refreshments and we can sit and wait for the others. They shoulddn't be too long."

Joseph Uzile nodded to Boran Suntelo after shaking his hand, the cold air came against Jospeh like a wave, very comforting and refreshing. The desert heat had almost gotten to him, but it really was nothing. Nothing compared to a certian place elsewhere, that is. He chuckled to himself lightly at the thought, oh how desert that place was. Jospeh smiled as he started to talk.

"Nice to meet you Foreign Minister Suntelo. I'm Ambassador Joseph Uzile, sent here by the Galac-" he stopped himself, they weren't ready for that "-by the Republic of Anagonia. Thank you for your invitation."

With a smile, and wondeing if this foreign minister had catched on to what he was saying, he sighed. Hopefully he didn't understand, this was supposed to be a Level One meeting, no technology involved. If he were to slip up in his words, then questions would inevitablly be asked.

He came back from though, and saw Boran's motion to sit. He nodded, and followed where he directed.

"Just a minute, yes," Chan Yuan whispered back, giggling softly and glancing at the two arrivals, thinking.

No alcohol for the women? Marriage must be a pain, here. The poor women.

Well, it was something to add to the 'To do' list. Changing specific things... If one ever got the chance to do it, anyway.

And another whisper. "Well, I can think of one person in a position to stop you..." Another smile, this one mildly ironic, followed, as she glanced in the direction of the poster that featured the dictator. "Though he isn't here right now, so I suppose it'll be alright." A wink, and, louder: "So... A sandman it is, then."

She quickly sat down, spotting and acquiring the best available spot, and crossed her - Rather visible - legs, a faint smile on her lips. She was quite mystified by the Anagonian attitude, too... It wasn't like interstellar nations were unobservable, or for some odd reason not present in the media.

Especially when they regularily call all nations.

He must confuse them with neanderthals...

How quaint.

http://members.cox.net/davage/images/Slobodan.jpg

He looked at his wristwatch as they descended towards the airport, they had been stuck quite a while waiting for permission to land. Slobodan hated to be late! It was something he despised in his fellow people, lateness was a sin. The airplane touched the ground with a bump swerving a little as the breaks and the flaps started to do their work.

A Steward opened the door for him and the wall of heat struck him as the stepped out on the stairs down. He carried a soft Kevlar vest underneath his cotton shirt since he during the years had accumulated quite a few enemies. Not that it would save him from a snipers bullet and he decided the vest would be the first thing he got rid off when they got to his hotel room. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and walked towards the house with a big smile.

Maybe they have a nice golf course here? This place must be perfect for that. I wish I had brought my clubs, all that time in the mountain bunker didn’t really help my handicap. He saw someone standing by the building so he flashed a pearl white smile and stretched out his hand. “ I’m mr. Slobodan Jovanovic from the wonderful nation of Vegana, nice to meet you!”

"Thankyou Sun," Eleanor replied, stepping into the cooler atmosphere. "You may call be Eleanor, or Ms. Clarke; whatever suits you best." She smiled cordially and looked about around her. "Your lands are quite different from my own. I am glad to be in attendance, and thankyou for inviting."

In the meantime, she noticed in the corner of her eye the Angstian delegate observing her perhaps odd sort of apparel. Apparently, it seemed, the Austarians were also concerned with fashionability as much as practicality--something which usually came at the expense of each other; and odd mix she had. And nodding at the offer of a refreshment, she only asked for something light; a water was her actual selection.

Nodding toward each of the delegates who were here, she smiled for them also; it seemed that this would be as much of a representation to them as it was to this... Ankara Alphyaz nation. Seemed nice enough, anyway.

"Hello, pleased to meet you," she greeted them all universally. "I'll be representing the Absolutist State of Austar Union today; my name is Eleanor Clarke."

Airstrip
The porter looked confused. He didn't speak English, assuming that was what the Veganan was talking, and he didn't recognise the man. Well.. best course of action.

"No talk England, no talk England, Foreigner in there, in there" The porter pointed towards to the waiting room, hoping he had done the right thing, and went back to sweeping the floor.

Waiting Room
The Foreign Minister returned the wink and smiled, and hearing the Anagonian and Austarian enter he turned to shake both their hands. Returning the welcome, he replied "Thank you, and a big welcome to the Democratic Republic of Ankara Alphyaz, Comrade Uzile, Ms Clarke." Boran wasn't too sure of Josef Uzile's title - so he used Comrade, a title used for pretty much anyone in Ankara Alphyaz. Except Dounreayans'. They were not Comrades. Suntelo left the three ambassadors to sit down, and turned to the vending machine. "Right, Sandman.." With a tching a yellow beige bottle made of glass dropped out of the vending machine. If you looked closely, one would see a part of it was from blazed window glass. Nothing was wasted in Ankara Alphyaz. "And..a water" Tapping in a coin, a water bottle dropped out, maybe about six hundred millilletres, and he turned around and placed them on the table.

"Are you sure you would not like a drink Comrade Uzile?"

[OOC: Rezo, if one looked at the Sandman's ingredients, it would be 20% alcohol, with blood of a Sand Worm (yes, the giant ones) and other various things. It tastes like vodka but it's really, REALLY, bitter...
And the water tastes something like Evian. And it's cold.]

Slobodan continued smiling and shook the porters hand. This poor country actually gave their demented work? How peculiar. He continued into the room the man had pointed at, wiping his hand clean from sweat, both his own and the monkeys' that had greeted him.

He stepped into a room with quite a few persons present. He slowly looked from left to right with his smiled glued to his face, a drop of sweat slowly rolled down his forehead and continued its trail towards his cheek. This damn vest! he thought, Its killing me there was a soft humm and he could feel the cool air from the airconditioning caress his face. He barely avoided stopping and face the cool air coming into the room and walked over to the person who obviously was the host and shook his hand. " I’m mr. Slobodan Jovanovic from the wonderful nation of Vegana, nice to be able to visit your beautiful country!”

"Oh, thank you." Chan Yuan smiled at Boran, taking the bottle and briefly contemplating the annoying lack of a glass.

Indeed, a very informal nation... Even when compared with DA, which said a lot.

Well, for once a 'Workers Paradise' that seemed to actually be filled with workers...

A few too much for her taste, but that couldn't be changed.

She was already tasting the Sandman, quickly getting her tongue to ignore the bitter part and generally revelling in the alcohol - Perhaps vodka wasn't the tastiest of drinks, but it was certainly useful in certain applications, even if the sandman's concentration was little more than half of proper vodka - when Slobodan entered.

Her guard went up instantaneously, and a part of her mind wept - After all, she was a warship, and here was a high-profile Reicher she could cut open and then rip his still-beating heart out of his chest, while a then-cut-open aorta would fill the chest cavity with a lake of blood - as she realised the lack of arms she'd brought with her.

There were other options, of course, but none were anywhere near as satisfying as ripping hearts from the chests of Reichers.

Moments later, conscious logic set in, reminding her that she was presently not a warship but a diplomat, as sad - And impractical - as it was.

Her smile hadn't even disappeared while she'd contemplated her various options, and so she kept smiling, nodding in Slobodan's general direction. "Oh... Mr. Jovanovic. What an unexpected surprise. Survived the last purge in your wonderful nation? Pity, that."

A brief moment of hesitation followed, before Chan Yuan eventually continued, still smiling.

"The purge, that is."

Eleanor, unfortunately, knew very little when it came to The Reich. She had of course heard all the relevant rumours, associated attachments, et cetera; but when it came to personal experience--which is what really mattered, she had zilch. And so she remained relatively silent during the Angstian's welcoming of the Vegan delegate, her polite yet cordial smile remaining un-nerved. She took the water with quiet thanks and sipped it cautiously. An interesting, yet original form this nation was. She appreciated individualism, as most Austarians seemed to during these times. Still, she couldnt help the thoughts pass through her mind at the lack of formality here--something half frowned upon, half admired.

Still, although her head buzzed with thoughts she never failed to acknowledge each of the delegates and their respective arrivals. Even upstarting some light conversation with one of them, she found her company... pleasant.

OOC:

Sorry, been busy with other things, IRL and the like. Sorry, sorry, sorry!

IC:

"Are you sure you would not like a drink Comrade Uzile?"

Joseph Uzile looked questionably at Boran, but shurgged his shoulders and thought for a moment. It really shouldn't hurt anything if he DID have a drink. Besides, even if he was used to the heat he could easily use something to cool his insides down.

"Yes, I suppose I could have a drink, Brethren."

He smiled while saying Brethren, it was the title given to many a fellow Anagonian. Perhaps he was taking the Comrade bit a tad too far, but it was out of respect, nothing else. Besides, there were many delegates here, but many seemed occupied with their own duties.

He would gaze at each one, noting their apperances and actions. His eyes strayed not long on each, that was disrespectful in his opinion. Slowly, and with a sigh, he looked back at Boran.

"Yes, a drink would be nice."

Slobodan looked around at the people as he was given a bottle of the strange local drink, Sandman. Considering the planes outside and the people in here this might not be the kind of vacation/visit he had planned.

Shit! He thought, Looks like my golf will be cancelled. He was cursing himself for not reading up on potential delegates present when he heard the woman’s voice, so clearly taunting and insulting him. He turned around, still smiling and looked her up and down.

“I’m sorry young lady. You seem to have the advantage over me since I don’t have the pleasure of recollecting your name. Judging by your wit and charm you’re Angstian though.” He tasted the word together with his Sandman for a second, both bitter. “ Speaking of purges, how is mr. Morden these days?”

He took a sip again of the Sandman, letting the liquid roll in his mouth and kill off any salivating drawn out by the intense heat. Suddenly the warm vest didn't seem as such a bad idea at all.

A weary Pearson started walking through the building after a flight that External Affairs predicted would only last four hours took a full eight due to turbulence. Besides the flight, he had to deal with pushy MPs and security personnel who scrutinised his diplomatic credential as if they'd never seen a Sarzonian before. Then again, Pearson would find out later, they hadn't.

Worse, at least in his mind, was the fact that he seemed to be walking around in circles. The directions he had looked like the vaguest set of commands that even Mapquest wouldn't have spat out and Pearson was on the verge of tears. His back slowly leaned until it reached a wall near an elevator and he slumped down to the floor in exasperation. After closing his eyes for a moment and forcing them open to keep the sweet relief of sleep from making a premature appearance, he rolled his eyes.

That turned out to be the best thing he could have done. He looked up and slowly realised he was on the ground floor. The shindig was on the first floor, one flight up.

"I can't believe I fucked that up," he muttered, slowly pulling his thin frame up from the floor and pushing the button. Luckily for him, a ding immediately sounded and the door opened with a small whoosh. First lucky thing that's happened all day, he thought as he pushed the button for the first floor. After a 15 second trip that felt like half an hour, the door finally opened and he looked across. There was the room he had been searching for the whole time. Straightening his suit to give him as much dignity as he could muster, he finally strode out of the elevator...

And promptly fell flat on his face. He rubbed his chin and slowly rose as he realised the delegates heard his fall. He only hoped he didn't embarrass himself too much with his proverbial two left feet.

Mhm. I don't think he's taking my measurements... He might wonder how much I'm worth in base elements, though.

"Oh, quite so. I'm honoured that our proverbial peculiarities are such easily recognised, though - Shows our PR specialists have done their homework." She keeps smiling just as before, her mind going through a variety of simulations - Most of them dealing with various forms of torture.

Hum. That one looks neat.

"Anyway... Chan Yuan Wells." A slight bow while she's still sitting follows. Not really out of politeness - It's a habit. "I fear Mr. Morden's somewhat sick... he's rather old after all, it's to be expected. Nothing lasts forever, I guess. But I can reassure you - Our purges are generally much less dangerous for the individual than elsewhere."

[OOC: I'm waiting for prae to post before I do next.]

Slobodan revelled in Chuans discomfort with his question and him hitting the spot about her origin. He had read extensive intelligence reports about Der Angst and some of them even suggested they didn't even know the whereabouts of Morden themselves. Bitch! Taste your own medicine you slut! He thought, still smiling while letting his eyes stay a little extra long on her legs before he moved up to Boran.

"I really enjoy this drink Mr. Suntelo, reminds me of a drink from my home town made of bark from the Pontius tree." He took another sip of the Sandman. "I saw other vessels than the Angstian one outside so I guess more people is expected to this sunny spot of the world.

Kiley Nessa picked at the seatback in front of her, it had been a long flight and she was bored. All of the people near her had moved to different parts of the plane, although she was willing to bet it had to do with her travelling partner, Darby. He was good and fun and usefull and all that, although communication with him was limited due to the fact he's a black panther. She reached over and scratched his head, causing him to lift it, and stretch his paws across the seat.

*Kzzt*"This is your captain speaking, we have started our final desce" *KZZTZZZT* "ase stow any and all items you may have taken o" *KZZZT*

The rest of what the captain said was lost in static, but it was easily decipherable. Kiley pulled her knife out of the back of the seat in front of her and stuck it in a sheath on a vest under her large cloak.

The plane came to a screeching halt on the runway and made it's way to the terminal.

Darby jumped off the row of seats he was sitting in, and into the aisle, allowing for Kiley to step ahead of him, and grab her bag out of the overhead bin. She hoisted the large duffel bag out of the bin, and made her way into the terminal. The second she stepped off of the plane she realized she wouldn't be able to wear her cloak for long anywhere outside, but she toughed it out while she made her way into the airport, the hood on her cloak hiding all of her facial features.

Mhm. No, must be my measurements. Damn, that's the first time I'd consider a longer skirt...

She sighed briefly. And anyway, he's so old! And that's disregarding the thing of him being a genocidal maniac indoctrinated with encyclopedias of Reich-propaganda... Oh well.

Still, eventually she decided that there was nothing wrong with her - Or more specifically, her legs - being noticed.

Even bastards can have taste.

She quickly looked around, for a moment forgetting about Slobodan - Doubtlessly the most fascinating in here, but unfortunately also the one most deserving death. Annoying coincidence, that - disregarding the Anagonian and contemplating the Austerian - He was a little shy, she suspected, but that didn't necessarily have to be a bad thing - and generally minded her Sandman more than anything else.

If things ever went rolling, she'd presumably be there to roll with them. There was no need to hasten proceedings.

"Yes.. it is rather nice, isn't it? You wouldn't dare to guess how it's made. It's a very dangerous job and it involves high explosives and high calibre autocannons..." Boran answered Slobodan, trailing off, observing the bitterness between the Angstian and the Veganan. Suntelo kept silent however, until he could hear a bang outside. Leaving the two to exchange concealed insults between each other, he stepped out of the door with a
"Be riiiight back"

Noticing the Sarzonian dusting himself down, he extended a hand and said.

"Are you alright? You don't look Ankaran. Are you here for the state visit?"

Receiving his answer from the Sarzonian, who looked rather grumpy at being asked who he was yet again, Boran re-entered the room with the Sarzonian delegate behind him.

"My name is Boran Suntelo - call me Boran or San. Would you like a drink? you don't seem to be accustomed to the weather, heh. We have cold and alcoholic."
[OOC: it is actually San, not Sun. not sure why.]

Eleanor wasnt shy, per say. But rather untalkative; she had only made for some light banter with one individual, their name even beyond herself. Quite, she would have made much more effort normally; but there was nothing like not having said details on the register--and asking was something she didnt do in business. No, she would rather protect her image of being sharp, on the ball, et cetera. Better than embarressing herself.

Speaking of embarressing one's self...

She heard a loudish thud outside from the door and raised an eyebrow at the cursing Sarzonian. So old friends would be joining them; it had been so long already.