NationStates Jolt Archive

Smiling at Stew's question, Cami hesitated a moment before answering.

"Well, the latest regional reports are listing us as a 'large, environmentally stunning nation'. Our population is currently around 122 million, but we are growing rapidly, both through increasing birth rates, and an influx of refugees from other countries, who enjoy our brand of centrist democracy."

"We are a good mix of both agriculture and manufacturing, and our climate varies. We have tropical beaches in the south, southwest, and much colder areas in the north, where one could participate in winter sport activies. Overall, I would call it temperate, without major extremes."

"Culturally, we value the arts, and in our schools, we express that. We are also a nation of religious freedom, although the majority of our faiths are monotheistic."


Cami hesitated again, before continuing.

"The second part of your question is a bit harder to answer, Stew. I do miss it, when I am away for extended periods, and I truly believe that 'home is where the heart is', but...since the death of my husband, two and a half years ago, my own personal home has just been a lonely place for me. So, while I miss it, at least here, at the UN, there are no personal memories to face every day."

Nodding softly, Stew looks down for a second before replying, "I can certainly understand that. I myself miss the town I was born- but painful memories keep me from returning. But one day, I hope to be whole enough again that I can step off the train in Blanostia, and smile at the good memories I have of the place as well."

Stew clasps his hands under his chin before continuing, "I also miss my Nation when I am away- but it is part of our Culture that the Leader be the one to express the Nation's needs... hence I am here rather than a Representitive. My Nation is currently listed as Socialist Democrats... though that's likely to change from year to year. Hehehe."

"My people are compassionate, if a little cynical, and are very aware of Social Equality. Crime is pretty low as well- partly because of the training all my people must go through. Military service is a requirement as well. There are some very beautiful locations in my Nation as well... perhaps one day, I can take you on a tour of some of them.

Stew smiles brightly, before sipping his wine again, "Do you have any questions you would like to ask- as I know you have an interest in other cultures?"

Just then their food arrived, and Cami continued her chat with Stew while they ate.

"So, military service is compulsory in Stewistan, also. Ours isn't exactly all military, although it falls under the auspices of that. In Drae Nei, we mandate a minimum of two years of government service, not necessarily military in nature. Although that is a bit Socialist, it works out well for us."

Cami took another bite of her salad, and washed it down with a sip of ale. "This salad is quite good!"

"It would be nice to visit someday, Stew. I am hoping for the opportunity to see many different places while I am posted here. Perhaps you will visit Drae Nei also!"

"Tell me about religion in your nation, Stew? Are your people religious or no?"

Stew dips a jalepeno popper into the salsa sauce, and chews it.

"These are very good. I would quite enjoy visiting your Nation one day. Yes, Military Service is compulsary, thought not necessarily in a fighting capacity. We've found that it gives people a finer appreciation for what the Military goes through to ensure the Nation's freedom and their rights."

Chewing a few more of the poppers, Stew contemplates the question of Religion. "We have various Religious denominations in Steweystan. I, myself am not Religious- though I have spiritual beliefs. My Culture has for centuries been very much based around ceremony and ritual. How about your people?"

Stew picks up the wrap, and takes a bite, enjoying the spiciness of it. There's a soft beep from Stew's wrist, and he takes a quick look to see a short message, "Heh... Seems today, my Nation has been declared an Authortarian Democracy... Be interesting what tomorrow brings..."

"As I stated, we have many faiths, but not one predominant faith, per se. Regarding ceremony and tradition, we do have our fair share, as our native peoples are of celtic blood, however, they are largely ritual today, and are acceptable to most of our faiths."


Cami smiled at Stew again, and took another bite of her salad. "You'll see what I mean at the reception. I plan to wear my historical clan tartan, in the proscribed manner as formal wear for our women. It consists of a long tartan skirt, a long sleeved white blouse, and a tartan sash, affixed with a clan brooch."

She stopped for a minute to take another sip of ale, and looked at Stew mischievously. "Of course, as my clan were warriors, in days of old, I am also entitled to wear my ceremonial sword, however, I just don't think that's appropriate for an Open House. I might be too tempted to use it if the Kennyites, show up!"

"My own Nation in offshoot of Celtic settlers as well, with some of the more Eastern philosophies thrown in. The Founder of my Clan in Steweystan was actually a Stewart. He have been slowly outgrowing many of the rituals that have become outmoded, but many remain that have great meaning for my people."

Stew gives Cami another tilt of the head, and a lopsided smile... as if imagining her in a Kilt, "I'm sure you'll look quite nice in your kilt. I have my own as well, though my Office of State requires I wear the green and blue vestments of my Nation as well... I shall have to wear it... without my own sword of course..."

Cami grinned in return. "Ah, I suspected as much, with the name Stewart. Mine is actually a regional tartan, from Tyrone, as my family name, O'Connor is Irish Gaelic, and Irish families did not generally have clan tartans. Stewart, however, is from the Scots Gaels."

"As for vestments of my nation, the brooch shall simply be the Celtic knot, featured on our flag, symbolizing unity."

Grinning in response, Stew takes a bite of the wrap, and chasing it with a sip of wine, "I myself have the Scots, as well as Irish and Welsh blood in me... withh a dash of Danish- we're still trying to figure how where in the Family that came from. Hehehe."

Stew rests his chin on his hands for a second, smiling at Cami, "I think that your tartan should look quite good on you, I've been told the Hunter Stewart looks quite nice on me. Tell me... Will there be... dancing at the Open House later in the evening? Or mostly grazing the delicasies and polite (in most cases) conversation?"

"There will be soft, traditional Drae Nei music playing during the evening, but this is an open house, and as such, there will not be any dancing. We are not really set up for it in our offices. Perhaps, at some point down the road, we will do a full blown formal affair, with a ballroom and dancing."

Cami finished her salad and pushed her plate away.

"Although, I suspect there may be a few who leave our party and do some dancing down here, if the alcohol flows freely enough!"

Her eyes twinkled as she smiled at her companion once again.

"I'm going to have to run up to the office for a few minutes here shortly, Stew. I can send Major Robards down to speak to you then, if you like. I'm sure he is in the office, still familiarizing himself with our guest list. I've just got to check messages and all, and I'll won't be gone long."

"Mayhaps on that day I shall have the pleasure of a dance with you then." Stew gave Cami another lopsided smile. "I'll be here for a while longer as there are not major concerns I need to deal with at the present. So hopefully you'll be able to join me again, and we can continue this enjoyable conversation. If the Major isn't too busy, I would certainly appreciate some of his advice." Stew gives Cami another bright smile, standing as she prepares to leave, bowing slightly to her.

Rang Erman and Prince Tang were still sitting at their table, playing a second game of chess, when another Imperial delegate entered the bar. Erman looked up and smiled.

"Amin, I never thought I'd see you in a bar."

The bespectacled, bearded Osmana smiled weakly. Adherents to Sulbein Osmanaran weren't allowed to drink alcohol outside of their religious services, and even then only the sacred haoma drink.

"Yes, well, no changes of faith today. I came here for another reason." He pulled out a translucent piece of plastic, about 1 1/2 feet long by 1 1.2 feet wide. A person from the Empire would recognize it a newspaper. He handed it to the ambassador.

Prince Tang tapped it, turning it on, and furrowed his brow, reading. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide. He looked at Rang Erman, and handed the paper to him. Erman, too, affected the same facial features as he read, and grunted when he finished.

"It can't be true." the ambassador said.

The Osmana doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid it is. The Abdians have attacked the League of Independent Systems. The Empire has a Sanctioned War on it's hands."

"You should try that Greek Salad sometime, Stew, it was really good!"

Cami finished her ale, waved goodbye to Stew and Neville, and headed off to her offices on the 38th floor.

Waves and watches Cami leave before sitting and continuing to eat his wrap, sipping his wine everynow and then.

I think I may just come to enjoy being here...

Major Robards, being officially off duty for the day, was not in uniform, but wore chinos and a long sleeve maroon polo shirt. Cami had informed him of the Grand Utoy's request, and feeling more than ready for a drink, he decided to head down to the bar.

Walking in, he headed straight for the bar. "Hey Neville, I'll have a Rathorian Regal single malt, please. The fifteen year old, not the twelve, I think. Oh, and which one is the Ambassador from Steweystan again? I've met too many new people this week."

After receiving his drink, and Neville pointing out the Ambassador, Mike took a minute to scan the Bar.

The Steweystan delegate sat alone, finishing his meal, and drinking something blue. There was another small group of three in one of the alcoves, but Mike was pretty sure he'd not met them yet. From the dossiers he had studied earlier though, it appeared to be the Allech-Atreus delegation, and they didn't look too happy.

"Send those guys a drink", Mike said to Neville, inclining his head in their direction. "They look like they could use one."

A moment later, he arrived at Stew's table.

Thrusting out his hand, he said, "Hi, Major Mike Robards, Drae Nei delegation. I'm not sure if we've met previously, it's been a busy week. Cam...er, Ambassador Langdon told me you were looking for some advice?"

Standing, Stew took the Major's hand, and gave it a firm shake, "Ah- Major, thank you for coming. Yes, I could use a bit of advice on a small situation that has occurred. Please, have a seat." Stew, waves a seat and sits down.

Stew gazes a moment into his glass of Nadia Blue wine, turning it slowly between his fingers. "There is an intended assassination attempt to be made under one of my Nation's Vows- the Vow of Wrath. My late Secretary's brother has invoked this Vow, blaming my firing of his brother for the reason he took his own Life. I have informed Security here, and my own Forces back home are keeping an eye on him, since- even though he has taken the Vow of Wrath, we can not do much until he actually takes action. My Staff is currently limited to myself and one other- Charles..."

Taking a sip, Stew pauses before continuing, "The Vow pretty much limits him to using a knife- as Honour demands face to face confrontation in this matter. I have taken the precaution of a protective garment." Stew taps his chest to indicate the bulletproof vest. I was wondering if you had an possible advice to offer to help nip this in the bud?"

Mike sat back in his chair as he listened to the Grand Utoy, sipping his scotch, and marveling at laws in societies different than their own, where such things were possible. His first response to the Grand Utoy was typical macho flyboy, but intended to put the man at ease, with a little humor.

"Well Ambassador, if it were me, I'd seek him out first and use a hand grenade. Hand grenade beats a knife, anyday of the week."

Mike smiled, to ensure the Ambassador understood it was said in jest.

Leaning forward, he continued, still in the same vein, "Or, perhaps you could borrow some of Iron Felix's bunnies, for bodyguard duty!"

He winked at the representative from Steweystan, as he sat back, and took another drink of his scotch.

Stew lets out a good chuckle, his lips turning up in a smile. "Use the bunnies, eh? I would if I wasn't afraid they'd all the paper I had. Hehehe"

Relaxing a bit, Stew sips his wine, leaning forward, "I guess I have taken as many precautions as I can on this. And I'm sure you would never let anything happen to Ambassador Langdon in any event- so my mind is at ease on that."

Ordering another glass of wine from the server, Stew gives the Major a penetrating look, "So, tell me Major- what do you think of working here with Ambassador Langdon?"

"Please sir, since we're off duty, call me Mike. But seriously, sir, I would do exactly what Ambassador Langdon said, and have your folks keep an eye on this nut case. To your continued good health, sir."

Mike clinked his glass against the Grand Utoy's, and took a sip.

"We're just getting started here, and I don't know if you are aware, but this is a new venture for us; we are a new member of the UN. So far, I think Ambassador Langdon is doing well. She's making contacts, and doesn't seem to be afraid to speak out on the GA floor."

As Maj. Robards speaks, his tone turns to one of admiration, and possibly a hint of something else...

"I guess we'll see, as we move on down this road, but I've comitted myself to her support."

Taking another sip of his scotch, Mike added, in a 'not quite as professional tone', "She's a helluva woman."

"In that case, Mike- call me Stew." Smiles and sips his wine. "We're pretty new to the UN as well... why I only have on other Staff Member with me at present."

Stew looks at Mike over the top of his glass, "Yes... I'm finding that she is a "helluva" woman, indeed..."

"Thanks, Stew. If I can be of any more help on your situation, please let me know. But thanks for sharing, I will have the detail on the lookout for any threat to Ambassador Langdon."

Mike looked at his watch and sighed. As much as he would have liked another drink, he still had to complete the detail's duty roster for the following week. Perhaps when he finished, he'd make it back for another one.

"I've got to get back upstairs, Stew, just a bit of work to finish. I may be back, but if not, I'll see you at the reception on Tuesday. I expect Cami will be back shortly, she was just checking messages, and taking care of a few emails."

"I appreciate you taking the time, Mike- and I hope to buy you a drink sometime soon." Smiling, Stew shook Mike's hand. "I'll be looking forward to the Open House on Tuesday, as well."

As Mike, left, Stew smiled at how he referred to his Ambassador as Cami, the second time... wondering if there was more than met the eye there...

Mike rode the elevator to the 38th floor, thinking about his boss, and the time they had spent together the other night. She was different than the other women he knew, but something had sparked between them...he was sure of it.

Eager to get his work done, and be done for the day, Mike was moving swiftly. He pushed open the door to the suite, and almost immediately collided with his boss, fairly forcefully.

Cami, not expecting the collision, lost her balance momentarily, and dropped her purse.

Mike immediately grabbed her with both arms, to keep her from falling. After a second, and seeing a flush on Cami's face, he realized that he had her in what could almost be considered an embrace. Sure that she was steadily on her feet, he abruptly let go, reddening slightly himself.

"Sorry, boss, didn't mean to bowl you over."

As he noticed Cami's purse, contents on the floor, he bent to retrieve it, and help her gather the items. Unfortunately, she had the same idea, at the same time, and they both went to the floor at the same moment, and bumped heads.

Cami paused, and reached up to rub her forehead, looking at Michael in silence.

Mike stopped, and stared back for a moment. Then, without thinking, he took her into his arms, and kissed her.

For a minute, all thought was lost to them both.

Cami pulled away first. What in the hell am I doing???

"Michael...I..." She looked at him, not sure what to say or do. "I've got to go."

She hurriedly grabbed her things, and rushed out the door, headed to the Bar.

Michael stayed on his knees for a moment, with his eyes closed. Nice job, flyboy...


******************************

A few minutes later, Cami burst into the Bar, looking slightly flustered, and slightly red.

"I'll be right with you, Stew. Just let me get a drink."

Seeing the expression on Cami's face, Stew becomes concerned, "Certainly- by all means..."

I wonder what happened to cause her to be so... flustered? Remembering, the way her Major sounded he thought, I wonder if "something" happened she wasn't expecting?

Cami composed her outward appearance at the bar, but her mind was racing, and her heart was pounding. She remembered Christelle's advice, that she deserved to be happy, but she just didn't know if she was ready for Michael.

Shaking her head, she ordered a Wiki Brandy, and thanked Neville. Taking a deep breath, she turned and headed to the table Stew was seated at.

Smiling, she greeted Stew, and took a sip of her brandy.

"I trust Major Robards was able to give you some advice, Stew?", she asked with a smile.

As she waited for his reply, only one thought went through her head. Damn, Michael's a good kisser!

Smiling, Stew nodded, and appraised Cami, "Yes- he was quite helpful. I hope you only got messages of goodwill?" Stew hid a somewhat knowing smile behind his glass as he sipped a bit more of his wine...

"Of course, Stew. As I said earlier, we are limited in what we can do to assist you on these premises, but I know Major Robards will assist you in any way he can."

Cami went on to share with Stew, the things that had surprised her about her military attache.

"I think he cultivates his repuation as a typical flyboy, womanizer intentionally, so people will discount him, Stew. He's actually quite astute when it comes to diplomacy. He suggested that our security detail wear civvies for the Open House, so that we wouldn't appear overly militaristic. That thought never would have occurred to me."

Lost in thought, Cami paused for a moment, as she sipped her brandy.

Christelle walked into the bar, hand in hand with Christopher and a grin on her face. She made little effort to conceal it. After all, most people here knew about her feelings for the Islenskan ambassador, and she didn't care what anyone thought about it. She was simply overjoyed that the man she loved felt the same way about her.

She released his hand after a last, loving squeeze as they walked up to the bar, and she smiled in greeting to the various familiar faces... especially Cami. Then she turned to Christopher.

"What would you like?" she asked him, unable to stop smiling.

(OOC: Following on from here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=507771&page=5).)

"Yes, he is quite a gentleman, Cami... full of surprises, I'm sure... kinda reminds me of my first wife years ago, actually. Hehehe..."

Stew waves politely to Christelle, before turning back to Cami, "It is rare to find good men like him in this world, you know?"

Christopher was just as giddy as he entered the bar, barely able to contain his excitement. He had never had much luck in relationships, and it was difficult for him to know whether it was him or those Islenskan women he had courted. But now he was in a relationship that he knew wouldn't end up like all the others. He was madly in love with Christelle, and if it weren't for his more professional behavior, he would shout it from the UN rooftop.

Finding a seat at the bar, he waved to Cami and then looked back to Christelle, grinning, "Well, I am pretty hungry. I think I'll have steak and eggs, with a side of bacon."

He rested his elbows on the bar, his hands cupping his chin as he gazed adoringly at the Ariddian Ambassador before grinning, "At least now we'll have a chance to eat."

Cami waved at Christopher and Christelle as they entered. Both looked very happy, and very satisfied, she thought as she smiled and motioned for them to join her table. She wouldn't be offended if they didn't, but she always enjoyed seeing them both.

Returning her attention to Stew's question, she replied, "I really wouldn't know, Stew."

She said it lightly, but with a small bit of wistfullness in her voice. "I've worked with good men, but I've only loved one, so far."

She smiled and raised her glass, as her gaze strayed back to Christopher and Christelle. "To love".

Christelle giggled.

"Yes... No distractions this time." She winked at him. She loved the way he grinned at her... not to mention the look in his eyes as he did so. The love she saw there made her feel almost dizzy with happiness. "I'll have a couple of croissants, an apple and grapefruit compote and some coffee, black, no sugar, please," she asked the bartender.

Turning to Christopher once more, she placed her hand softly against his cheek, looking at him lovingly.

"I hope we haven't missed an important debate in the GA," she said, with another giggle.

As she saw Cami's gesture for them to join her, she hesitated. She liked Cami at lot, but at that moment she was enjoying just being with Christopher. Still... Cami was her friend, and she did not want to be unsociable.

"Shall we?" she asked him.

"I've noticed you don't really eat meat. Are all Ariddians vegetarians or is it just your personal choice?"

Not waiting for a response, he leaned in towards her. Christopher gently kissed those Ariddian lips when he was close enough, sighing against them before noticing movement in the corner of his eye. Turning, he noticed Cami waving for them to join her at her table. He looked back to Christelle and smiled.

"She is your friend. Let's go over and talk to them for a bit."

"To Love..." Stew raised his glass and glanced towards the couple, noticing Cami's look. "I too lost my wife- she was quite a woman... brave, loyal, smart and funny." Sipping his wine, Stew grows a little wistful as well, "One never knows when, or where Love will come again. As my Mother used to say, "Never pass up the opportunity for closenss with another, even if that closeness isn't forever..."

Smiling, Stew raises his glass, "To the possibility that Love will come again to all that wish it..."

"I'm so sorry, Stew, and trust me, I know your pain. How long were you were married?"

Christelle nodded.
"All right." She returned the kiss, her lips lingering on Christopher's lovingly, then she kissed him again, softly. "We'll have plenty of time again later on our own," she added in a playful whisper.

The bartender placed their breakfast on the bar, and Christelle picked up the tray.

"To answer your question, all Ariddians are vegetarians," she told him, then smiled slightly. "Don't worry, though. I don't mind you eating meat. Even if I'm... not used to seeing people do that."

She leaned into him slightly and kissed his cheek, whispering passionately into his ear: "I love you..."

Then she carried their breakfast tray over to Cami and Stew's table, smiling at them both.

"Good morning. How are you both?"

Settling back into the seat, Stew held the glass of wine a moment before sipping, his mind travelling back into the past, "Yes. Mary was her name. We met at a Military Function. I was the Matbel at the time, basically I was the Grand Utoy's apprentice. She looked so lovely in her Uniform. I was enchanted from the start..."

Stew smiles softly at Cami, "She asked me out after I'd accidently spilt wine on her tunic. Hehehe. A year later, we married. Then came the war." A dark look came into Stew's eyes for a moment as the past came to him, "She was killed in action- attempting a rescue of children from an orphanage that the enemy had captured. The night before we'd even talked about adopting children for ourselves. That was eight years ago now."

Looking into Cami's eyes Stew said, "Now, I'm here having a glass of wine and sharing the company of a lovely woman... So, I'd have to say, Life has turned out good so far. Hehehe..."

"Good day Ambassadors," Stew rises to greet the Ariddia and Islenska Ambassadors, "I'm doing well- yourselves?"

Cami smiled warmly at her friends from Islenska and Ariddia. "I'm fine thanks, and you?" Her voice was teasing slightly as she said it. It appeared obvious to her, that they were both doing quite well!

"Please, Christopher, Christelle, sit. And eat! You both look as if you've been neglecting meals lately, or are getting more exercise!" Cami could not pass up the chance at a small mischievous dig at Christelle.

She returned her attention to Stew. "You have my condolences, Stew, and my thanks, for the compliment."

Stew smiles at the Ambassador's, "It is always nice to see people happy... but food is truly important for that too. Hehehe." Bowing his head politely to Cami, he says, "Thank you, and you're welcome. I have come to terms with my loss over the years. She remains a gentle warmth in my Soul... but I also know that I will feel Love again... such is part of Life, no?"

Signalling a server, Stew requests a bottle of Nadia Blue wine, and a greek salad, "I'm hungry again, Hehehe..."

He shared the kiss with Christelle, reluctantly ending it so that they might get up and visit Cami's table. He grinned, giving her kiss a gentle cheek, "I was just about to say that."

When she whispered, he did as well, being so forward as to give her ear a gentle nibble. He even, with a bit of blush at just the thought of it, licked across the lobe before whispering softly into it, "I love you, too."

Pulling away, he smiled to Cami and Stew, lowering his head, "Good morning, both of you."

Christelle blushed at Cami's words. I suppose it's obvious... But I'll have to find a way to tease her too!

"I'm very well, thank you," she answered anyway, smiling at her friend.

She sat down, gave Christopher his food, and took a bite out of her croissant. Only as she tasted her food did she realise how hungry she was.

Cami teased Christopher a bit, while she had him at a disadvantage. "So, Christopher, schedule kept you to busy to reply to our invitation?"

She smiled at him, aware of the fact that her friend derived much pleasure in his company.

"By the way, Christopher, what do you prefer as a nickname, if you use one at all? Chris? Christoph?"

Christelle looked at her beloved curiously.
"I call you Chris sometimes, but I suppose that could be confusing... I mean, you could call me Chris too." She smiled, and ate another bite of her croissant. It tasted more delicious than usual. This morning, everything seemed wonderful...

She broke off a piece of her croissant, dipped it into her apple and grapefruit compote, and brought it over to Christopher's mouth playfully. She knew they were not alone, but she was still feeling a bit giddy with excitement, and she hoped Cami would not mind.

"Oh, I have been wonderful. Yes, I must admit that I haven't had an opportunity to reply. Christelle and I have been spending quite some time getting to know each other better," The Islenskan grinned at Cami and then winked to Ms. Zyryanov.

Christopher sat as well, looking to both Cami and Stew as he absent-mindedly cut into his steak. Picking a peice up with his fork, he bit it and his eyes widened. It was quite good but, besides that, he also realized just how absolutely famished he was. Looking down at his food, he began to eat frantically, sighing in enjoyment.

Taking a moment to stop and eat that piece of croissant, he looked to Christelle, "So, you don't eat meat? Have you ever had meat or was this in place before you were born? You might be missing out on something you might like, after all," He picked up a peice of steak, holding it out to Christelle.

Looking back to Cami, he shrugged, "I am usually called Christopher, but I suppose Chris alright as well. And, I must admit, it is quite interesting falling in love with a woman who shares at least part of my name."

Cami noticed Christelle's playfullness with Christopher, and was pleased. She enjoyed seeing her friend being open with her, and accepted it as a natural step in their friendship.

The learning process ws obviously in full swing between those two, as Cami listened to Christopher's questions for Christelle.

Respnding to Christopher, she said, "Well, I just don't see Christelle as a "Christy", but Chris for the both of you could be confusing."

Grinning, Cami continued, "To be honest, I am already thinking of you two as "C-squared!"

Calmly watches Christelle and Christopher, sharing an amused look with Cami.

"Ah, my salad... good!" Stew accepts his salad from the server and takes a bit of a bite, "So, Cami- How did you get into the wonderful field of Diplomacy?"

"I've never eaten meat," she told him. "It was outlawed by referendum, quite a while before I was born. You can't find meat anywhere in Ariddia. You might not be happy there," she added with a slight smile, as she watched him eat his steak hungrily. From the meals they had had together so far, she guessed he enjoyed meat quite a lot.

"And no, I'm not tempted," she added, still smiling slightly, and ate the last piece of her first croissant before starting on the second.

"Stew, my father was a career diplomat in our region, and I started in politics at an early age. I've kind of been lucky, so have started my career, and following it, in conjunction with the woman who was once my governor, and is now our President."

Watching everyone eat made Cami hungry again also. Impulsively, she ordered a bacon, mushroom omelette, with cheese.

"Alright. Suit yourself, my love," He ate the peice of steak himself. And though he continued to eat, it was at a slower pace due to, for the moment, placating his empty stomach.

He noted Stew's question, looking to Cami and nodding, "That sounds about the same as how I got into politics. My father was the representative of the Islenskan King, and I followed in his footsteps. Though, he never did become an ambassador to the UN. I would like to think he is proud of me for making a bit more of myself than I had originally intended."

"Born to it in my case. I was one of five apprentices to the Grand Utoy. Upon his passing, my people voted for me to take over as Grand Utoy... I'm guessing they just didn't like my cousins very much. Hehehe." Enjoys his salad, taking the occaisonal sip of his wine.

"Christelle, do you mind being called Telle? It means Heaven in my language."

"Oh, Stew! Telle sounds perfect! If Christelle doesn't mind, that is. What a pretty name, for a pretty woman!"

Christopher arched a brow, smiling a bit as he looked at the two of them, "I thought I was the one who was supposed to flower Ms. Zyryanov with praise."

Christelle politely declined Christopher's offer of a piece of steak, then grinned at Cami calling them "C-squared".

"Actually, I rather like that," she said, and laughed lightly. She took a sip of her coffee. "And I think I'll just continue calling you Chris," she told her beloved. She placed her hand over his and gave it a gentle squeeze, then leaned over to kiss the tip of his nose. "You can call me whatever you want," she added, smiling.

She turned to Stew.
"Telle? I'd... never thought of that. It's very nice!" She blushed slightly at Cami's comment, then even further at Christopher's words. She looked at him, and smiled. "Oh, but you can still flower me with praise, my love," she told him, with a teasing smile.

Stew looks at Cami, an impish smile on his face as he takes a sip of his wine, "Cami also has a meaning in my language as well..."

He squeezed back, returning the kiss to her nose before nuzzling against her and pressing several kisses to her cheek, "Well, I would hope so. I called you a few things last night besides your own name."

Christopher glanced to the others, smirking a bit before blinking. Christelle must have had some effect on him, because he had just realized that he wasn't acting like his usually nervous and jittery self.

Cami returned Stew's look, almost afraid to ask.

"Um, what would that be, sir?", she said grinning playfully.

Chuckling, Stew takes as slow sip of wine, before grinning at Cami, "It means Playful Woman..." Stew raises an eyebrow at her, and awaits her reaction, while popping a black olive into his mouth to chew on...

Stew looks towards Christopher and Telle, smiling, "Good men believe that good women deserve all the praise they get."

Cami colored slightly, and hesitated a moment before replying.

Summoning up a grin, she answered, "Well, better playful than the alternative!"

Ducking her head, she busied herself with her drink.

Christelle giggled at Christopher's behaviour. She was enjoying every moment of it. She kissed his lips softly.

"So you did... But I don't think you can call me many of those in public," she said, grinning. She took another bite from her croissant, and watched him eat. He looked a lot more confident now, a lot more sure of himself. Probably because he had good reason to, she reflected, grinning. I've made it quite clear to him now that I absolutely adore him...

She looked at Stew, then at Cami, her eyebrows rising, and smiled.
A-ha. Now I have something to tease you about, my friend!

"And how well do you think Ambassador Langdon lives up to her name, then?" she asked Stew casually.

A nice, full laugh comes from Stew, his eyes crinkling with merriment, "Yes... Yes, indeed... Playfulness makes Life so much more... interesting, don't you think?"

Stew turns his attention to Telle and Christopher, "I would like to say a toast to the two of you, 'May the Fates smile upon thee with Love and Happiness'" Raising his glass to his lips, he adds, "For all the Lifetimes ahead..." and sips...

Blushing slightly at Telle's comment, and fiddling with his tie, Stew says, "Well, our conversations have been... illuminating and very enjoyable..."

Cami ignored Stew's statement, and Christelle's, but smiled warmly as she raised her glass.

She was not sure, but felt Stew was picking on her. She swore not to give him any more ammunition.

When Christelle finished her croissant, he gently rested his hand on her cheek and turned her towards him so he could kiss her. The kiss was rather passionate and deep, and he blushed due to his own surprise at the forwardness of it, "You are so beautiful, Christelle."

Looking to Stew, he smiled, gently caressing Christelle's, or Telle's, cheek, "Thank you. And I hope you find happiness and love as well. I hope the same for you as well, Ms. Langdon."

"Actually, Telle- I have found Cami to be a very wonderful conversationalist, helps that she's smart and funny... something I have missed in my conversations with women in the Capitol these past few years. I also think she will do her Nation proud, and it is an honour and pleasure to have met her." Stew smiles warmly and honestly with his remarks.

"Please, Christopher, call me Cami. That's what my friends call me, and I certainly hope I can count you in that category. By the way, Christopher, you still haven't RSVP'd for the Open House. Are you going to be able to make it?"

"Of course, Cami, I forgot. Sometimes I am a little more formal than I should be. As for the open house, I shouldn't have any problems making it, though," He looked to Christelle, smiling, "We might be a bit late. I suppose it all depends."

Christelle sighed happily, taking Christopher's hand in hers and kissing it before looking at the other two.

"Thank you..." she said softly. "I don't know about all lifetimes, but one lifetime with Chris will make me as happy as I could possibly be." She raised her coffee cup. "And may you both find love and happiness too."

At that moment, her phone rang. Slightly annoyed, she asked her beloved and friends to excuse her, and moved aside a little to answer. A few moments later, she returned to them.

"That was Min," she said, apologetically. "My secretary. She's in the office, and there's an important call for me, from Rêvane. I have to take it." She sighed, and looked at them. "I'm sorry."

Leaning down, she slipped her arms briefly round Christopher and gave him a long, deep, passionate kiss, holding their kiss for as long as she could hold her breath before finally releasing him. She smiled gently.

"I'll see you later, darling." And, turning to the others: "Cami, Stew. I'm sorry to leave like this... I'll see you later as well."

"I understand, Telle- business never ends around here," I hope I haven't upset Cami with my sense of humour... It's been awhile, I'm afraid... Stew sips his wine, a soft smile on his face as he looks at Christopher and Telle, a bit of wistfulness entering him. She does have a wonderful smile though... makes me want to smile as well."I hope both of you are able to attend."

Maybe if I share some more of my language with her... "I just remembered that Chris also has a meaning... if anyone's interested in knowing... As does my own name, Michael..."

Christopher returned the kiss, dissappointed to see Christelle leave but glad to know that they would be together again. He understood that this sort of thing happened. After all, they were UN ambassadors, and it wasn't a surprise when they had something very important to attend to. Breaking the kiss with Christelle, he smiled and nodded, "I hope to see you tonight, Christelle. I love you."

Turning back to Stew, he shrugged his shoulders, "Sure, what does Chris mean in your language?"

Cami waved at Christelle as she left, sighed and looked at her watch. She really needed to get going also. Tomorrow would be a busy day, with last minute preparations for the party on Tuesday.

"I'd love to hear those, Stewey, but perhaps next time? It's getting late for me, and I have a busy day tomorrow, with this party and all."

Cami smiled at her companions. "I suspect I'll see you both tomorrow on the GA floor, or perhaps here, for lunch."

She finished her drink, then excused herself to visit the ladies room before she left.

Stew gives Cami a warm smile as she leaves. He then sits and smiles at Chrisopher, "Well, Chris stands for Strength of Heaven... so taken with Telle's name, I'd have to say you two are a good match."

Cami returned to the table after a few minutes, having missed the answer to Chris's question. Perhaps another time, she thought, I will find out what they mean. She was particularly interested in the name Michael, although it had nothing to do with the Grand Utoy.

Smiling at her tablemates, Cami stated her thanks for the evening. "Stew, Chris, very pleasant to see you both this evening, and again, perhaps we'll all hook up again tomorrow."

She hesitated a moment, then hugged them both. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you both Tuesday evening, if not before."

Stew stands, and awkwardly accepts the hug, "I'm looking forward to it, myself." A soft beep at his wrist draws Stew's attention and he sighs, "I'm afraid I must call it a night as well, a minor situation requiring my attention has come up. Good even, Christopher, Cami" Stew bows before departing...

(OCC- It's quite all right... I can be easy to confuse. LOL)

Cami whispered to Chris before she left, "She seems very happy with you, Christopher."

With that, she squeezed his hand and smiled, then turned and left the Bar.

******************************************************

Upon leaving, Cami considered returning to her office, but suspected Michael was still there. She chose instead, to go back to the hotel. She wasn't even ready to think about what had happened earlier between them.

(OOC: Fungia, it might help to pay attention to the online/offline designator under the posters name. He asked you that hours ago, and is no longer in the bar. You may want to modify your post with some reason why you were called away abruptly, and introduce yourself another time! :))

ok so there is no fluid time here? I will keep that in mind. I have played message board rpg's where there is fluid time. One is in many places at once.
Sorry about that.

(OOC: Yes, Fungia, there IS fluid time, but he left the bar, after you failed to respond to him when the question was asked. If he had still been in the bar, it probably would have worked! My best suggestion, is catch him next time! :))

Jimmy walked in the back door, hollaring 'hallo' to Neville. He had the list of beverages needed for Drae Nei's party and wanted to ensure Neville had it all.

Reaching the main bar, he presented the list to Neville, who nodded. Then nodded again. And again.

Jimmy elbowed Neville to wake him up. "Look Neville. I know it's late, just need you to add anything we haven't got on tomorrow's order."

Neville mumbled in agreement, or at least that's what it sounded like. Jimmy sighed, and stuck the order on the daily clipboard.

"Neville?"

"Neville?"

Satisfied that Neville was out, at least for a few minutes, Jimmy picked up the black Sharpie marker by the cash register, and went to work.

A few minutes later, having successfully adorned Neville's face, Jimmy scrawled a quick note. "Sorry mate, couldn't resist. See you tomorrow, to pick up the order."

After a last amused glance at the dozing Neville, Jimmy slipped out again, through the back door.

Major Mike Robards stopped at the Bar floor on his way out. He walked in, and over to the bar, and found Neville, dead asleep. Strange.

Stranger still, were the markings on Neville's face. Mike examined them momentarily, and determined Neville was still breathing, just asleep.

"Neville, old boy," Mike muttered, "I'm glad I am not you, when you wake up tomorrow morning."

Mike chuckled, and headed out the door to the hotel. He had at least one Calaidian Amber in his room.

Stew entered, and heard the soft sound of snoring coming from the bar, What? Walking over, he noticed Neville fast asleep, a little puddle of drool on the bartop. Grabbing a napking, Stew gently wipes up the liquid, and notices something... odd about Neville (other than the fact that he was snoring peacfully on the bartop). What the? I don't remember Neville having kitty cat whiskers...

Bending closer, Stew raises and eyebrow in curious amusement- discovering that the whiskers had been drawn upon Neville's face. This should prove interesting when he awakens...

Stew decides to let Neville sleep and quietly leaves, but not before snagging a bunch of drink umbrellas. Just in case I came across some of those bunnies... I think they may have something to tell us... Stew pats his suit tunic, the chocolate bars in the inside pockets rustling in time to the soft thunk of his bulletproof vest. "Sleep well, Neville," Stew whisper before leaving...

Christelle walked into the Bar, looked around, and made her way to the bar. She sat down, and ordered her usual cup of grapefruit tea. Sipping it, she allowed her gaze to travel round the room.

It's rather quiet here this evening...

Cami Langdon walked into the Bar, marched straight over to Neville and stopped. What was that on Neville's face?

Knowing how strange things could get in the bar, she decided to ignore it.

"Calaidian Amber, Cami?", Neville asked.

"Um, sure, Neville. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, Cami, why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason, just thought you were looking not quite yourself. Thanks for the Ale, Neville."

Cami looked at him a bit curiously, shrugged her shoulders, and headed over to her usual table.

On her way there, she spotted Christelle, sitting alone at a table, and changed her direction.

"Hi Christelle! Mind if I join you?"

While tidying up behind the bar, Neville came across a note. He picked it up and read it, not sure what it was referring too, but noting that it was signed by Jimmy.

Just then, he happened to catch his reflection in the mirrors, behind the bottles on the bar.

"What the hell!", he bellowed. Quickly, he grabbed a bar rag, wet it, and went to work scrubbing his face.

A minute later, looking in the mirror, he could see they weren't coming off.

Jimmy must have used a permanent marker, the SOB.

Neville cursed, and went back to work on his face.

On her way there, she spotted Christelle, sitting alone at a table, and changed her direction.

"Hi Christelle! Mind if I join you?"

"Cami!" Christelle smiled at her warmly. "Please, do."

She waited for her friend to sit down, then gave her another smile.
"Have you heard? They've... well, we've repealed the WHL at last."

Cami smiled, pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Yes, Telle, I've just come from congratulating the Kivisto delegate on their efforts.. I didn't think there was going to be much doubt about it, but the debate wasn't without it's moments."

"So how are you, my dear friend? I see things are going well with Chris?"

Smiling still at her friend, Cami sat back and waited for an answer.

Christelle grinned, both at Cami's use of her new nickname and at her mention of Christopher.

"Oh, it's going great!" she said happily. "He's lost that cute shyness of his," she added with a wink at her friend, "but... He's so kind and caring, and... passionate! I'm in love, and I haven't felt this good in a long while."

She took a sip of her tea, still smiling, and looked at Cami.
"Speaking of which..." she said mischievously. "I see you're not accompanied by that handsome major. Or by your new friend Stew."

Coloring at Chrsitelle's words, Cami glanced down for a moment, not wanting to have her friend see the confusion in her eyes.

Softly, she said, "That's wonderful, Telle. I am so happy for you."

Deciding to ignore the comment about Michael, she looked at her friend, and said, "Stew? What about him? He's just a friend, Telle, as far as I know.."

Cami trailed off, wondering if she had missed something.

Christelle gave another grin, and lifted up her cup of tea.

"I think he rather likes you," she said, mock-innocently.

Cami groaned inwardly at Telle's statement. Didn't she have enough to worry about with Michael?

"Well, I like him too, Telle, just not that way, you know what I mean? He's very nice, and I do enjoy his company, but as a friend. It's not like he's..."

She stopped abruptly, realizing she was about to say, like Michael.

Hoping desperately that Telle wouldn't notice what she didn't say, Cami tried to change the subject, and found herself blushing again.

"Christopher must be very busy these days, since he still hasn't RSVP'd for the party tomorrow..."

Christelle noticed the sudden change of topic, and smiled slyly, but decided not to comment. Instead, she went along with the new thread of conversation.

"Hasn't he told you orally, at least?" she asked, a little surprised. "Don't worry; I'll bring him along with me," she added with a smile.

She finished her tea, and set her empty cup back down on the table.

"Oh, well, yes he did say verbally that he would attend. I guess I'm just used to getting official RSVP's for official functions. Nothing to worry about, as I told Ruth to add him to the list anyway."

Cami was relieved that her friend hadn't pursued the matter.

Changing the subject once again, she asked, "Did I tell you what I am wearing tomorrow night? I'm really excited about it..."

"No, you didn't." Christelle smiled at her friend warmly. She herself had not yet decided what to wear, but she was curious to find out what Cami had chosen. Especially since her friend was obviously eager to tell her. "What will you be wearing, then?"

"It's traditional dress, regional for me, from my ancestral county of Tyrone. We are descended from the Gaels, and it's a formal long skirt, with a dress white blouse, and tartan sash, affixed with a brooch."

Cami sighed in frustration.

"It's easier for me to show you, rather than describe it, Telle."

Cami opened her notebook and pulled out a photo of a model in the suit she would wear the following evening.

This is what the outfit (http://www.scottishstore.com/acatalog/sashhostess.jpg) will look like, but my tartan ( http://www.lindaclifford.com/Images/IrishTyrone.jpg) will be the Tyrone one. Cami pulled out a swatch of the Tyrone tartan to show her as well.

Stew enters and approaches the bar, and sees the Neville still had whiskers on his face. With a straight face, he asked for a Nadia Blue wine. Turning, he sees Tell and Cami sitting at a table, and waves warmly to them.

Christelle admired the dress with great interest, then looked up at her friend and smiled.

"I'm sure you'll look lovely in it!" she said, and meant it. She paused. "I actually haven't decided what to wear yet... I've... well, I've been a bit busy," she said, blushing slightly. "But I can't wear something traditional from my country."

Feeling Cami's questioning gaze upon her, she explained:
"Non-Indigenous Ariddians are all descendants of immigrants. We have our own unique culture now, of course, but no ancestral dress of our own... Except Indigenous clothes, but..." She smiled slightly. "Well, those wouldn't really do for a formal occasion. And I'm not Indigenous, anyway."

Noticing Stew over at the bar, she waved back at him, and motioned for him to join them. She glanced briefly at Cami, and couldn't help but wonder what she might think of the Steweystani.

"Your not?", Cami asked as she put the photo and swatch back in her notebook. "How so, Telle?"

She nodded at Stew, acknowledging his greeting.

Looking back at Chrsitelle, she said, "Please explain, my friend!"

A little nervous, Stew approaches the table, fiddling a little with his tie, "Good evening, ladies. I hope your day has been good." He gives a light smile, glancing at Cami, I hope she's not upset about my teasing last night...

"May I join you?"

"Hi, Stew, and sure. WHL was repealed, how can it be a bad day?"

Cami smiled as Stew pulled out a chair and joined them.

"Well..." Christelle began. "In Ariddia, when we say 'Indigenous', we mean Wymgani (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Wymgani). They were the first people to settle there, and they were the only inhabitants for a very long time. Their traditional dress... Well, let's just say that it only covers the... uhm... bare necessities. And that it doesn't include a top."

She paused, then smiled.
"But don't worry. As I said, I'm not Wymgani."

She looked up at Stew.
"Good evening! How's your day been?"

Stew sits and gives Telle a teasing look, "Many I'm sure would be interested in seeing that sort of attire more often... might distract the more testosterone laden from arguing. Hehehe..." Looking at Cami Stew said, "Yes, the WHL is gone... a joyous day indeed... now for the next topic for arguing, eh?"

"Well, at least we were all able to agree on repealing this one," Christelle pointed out. "Would either of you like another drink? I'm going to get myself some more tea, so I can get you both something if you like."

"I would appreciate another drink... ummmm... surprise me." Stew smile warmly at Telle, "and when you return, I'll tell both of you what Chris and Michael mean in my language..."

"I'll take another Calaidian Amber, Telle", Cami said, looking at her watch. "I don't want to be here too late tonight, as tomorrow will be a long day, but I am sure I have time for a couple more."

Back at the bar, Neville had taken a brief respite from scrubbing at his face, simply because it had started to hurt. His cheeks were now very red, but the cat whiskers had faded a bit to gray.

If all else failed, after a bit, he would try some Old Frothingslosh on them.

Christelle smiled, nodded, and walked over to the bar. Feeling slightly adventurous, she decided to forego her usual tea, and asked Neville for three Calaidian Ambers. She did not, however, comment on his new facial decoration...

Looking back over towards the table as she picked up the tray of drinks, she waited a moment to watch the way Cami and Stew might be looking at each other. Then she joined them once more, handing out the drinks and sitting down.

"What have I missed?" she asked cheerfully.

Turning to Telle, Stew whispers "Any idea what happened to Neville's face? I found him earlier asleep with those kitty whiskers on..."

Cami was surprised to see Christelle with something other than a grapefruit tea, and grinned. Perhaps her newfound adventure with Chris was causing her to be even more adventurous!

Replying to Stew's remark, Cami stated, "I don't know, he was like that when I came in this evening. I did hear him muttering about Jimmy though, so I don't know?"

"And do tell, Stew, I would like to know that those names mean!"

Stew passes Cami her ale, and takes his own, "Thank you, Telle- I'm looking forward to seeing how this tastes." Smiling broadly, he says, "Well, as I told Chris last night, Chris stands for Strength of Heaven in my language... so along with Telle- Heaven, many of the Faiths in my Nation would say they are a good match. Seeing them together, I would have to agree. Hehehe."

Taking a sip of the ale, Stew fiddles with is tie, and takes another sip, "Mmmm... This is good! I shall have to order this more often! Thank you, Telle." He turned back to the topic at hand, a slightly impish look on his face, "Micheal, in my language means Court Jester- or Court Fool." He blushes slightly, and fiddles a little more with his tie, hiding his face with a sip of his beer. Please Fates, I pray to thee that I haven't made an utter fool of myself... though the story of how I got my First and Middle names is even more embarassing...

Cami smiled as Stew told them what Christopher meant. It did in fact seem a very good match, between Telle and Chris.

She frowned at the narrative of what Michael meant though. She took a few minutes though, thinking it through, as applied to one Major Michael Robards.

Hadn't she just said to Christelle a few days ago, that it seemed Michael 'put on an act', in the performance of his job?

"Very interesting, Stew. So, Grand Utoy, you are also a court jester?"

Cami grinned, awaiting his reply.

Christelle's eyebrows rose slightly, and she took a sip of her ale to conceal her smile.

"Does it indeed?" she asked, glancing at Cami.

Blushing deeply, trying to keep his hand from fiddling with his tie, Stew stammered, "Ummmm... I have... ahhhhh my moments. Usually because I enjoy making people smile... eeerrr... yeah..." The blush got even deeper, his hand moving on its own to play with this tie... Fates, be kind...

With his mouth working seperately from his mind, he slips out, "Part of my Apprenticeship to the previous Grand Utoy was three years as the Court Jester... Apparenlty, I was the best of the lot." Yep... Shooting yourself in the foot's good... Fates kil me now...

Cami propped an eyebrow at Stew. "Well, making people laugh isn't a bad thing, Stew, you shouldn't worry about it."

After a minute, she said mischievously, "I'm not sure I'd practice those arts on the GA floor though!"

"I left my cap with bells back in the Capitol, so no jestering on the GA floor, I'm afraid," Stew said, sipping his ale and relaxing a bit...

"Well, it could liven things up. I mean, in a good way." Christelle took another sip of her ale. "I mean, if people are smiling and laughing, it's difficult for them to be nasty, or to chuck one another through closed windows."

"Owwww, owwww, owww."

Neville had let his face return to it's natural color before trying the Old Frothingslosh, to remove the markings on his face. It still hurt his newly irritated skin.

Before continuing, he took a shot of the stuff, to dull the pain, cursing Jimmy all the while.

He wouldn't ruin Cami's party, but he would repay Jimmy, in kind.

"True... and if you happen to know... I try to avoid standing by windows around here," Stew says smiling at Telle... glad that the ladies took his humour as it was intended. "I wouldn't recommend however, asking what my middle name means until I'm especially drunk... Noooooo..."

Stew glances at Cami, wondering if she'd take that bait one day...

Christelle merely smiled, and finished her ale quietly.

"Anyway..." She stood. "I have work I really need to get on with." Especially if I want to meet up with Christpher afterwards! "I'll see you both later, I hope."

Stew stands as Telle prepares to depart, "Certainly, it would be a pleasure to talk further." bowing, Stew gives Tell a friendly smile...

Cami stood and prepared to leave also.

"Tomorrow will be a long day, I'd best get going also. Thanks for the drink, Christelle, and the company, Stew. I'll see you both tomorrow evening, if not before."

Bowing to Cami, Stew smiles, "I am looking forward to your party tomorrow. Sleep well, my friend."

Sitting down, Stew thinks, Give it up, no way can you compete with the likes of the Major... With this thought in mind, Stew quietly sips his drink...

Cami stood, and waved goodbye to Christelle.

"Goodnight, Stew. I'm looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

Gathering her things, Cami headed out of the Bar, and back to her hotel.

She really needed to find a place to live.

The two walked into the Strangers' Bar – Tom, the delegation's janitor, left to keep the pilot light on, and United Nations Ambassador W.E.B. Cinque Huey Newton Liberation Mojo Ganja Mississipi Malcolm Moses Jackson (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11967612&postcount=4), freshly arrived to represent the People's Democratic Republic of Community Property before the great world body.

“So this is where the action is?” declared the Ambassador a bit too loudly. “Y'know, I still like the All-Night Disco up on the 42nd Floor.”

“Nobody goes there,” said Tom softly.

“Well, mebbe we can change that,” Jackson said, not quite willing to give up on the notion. “Pretty close to our pad,” he chuckled.

Arriving at the bar, both pulled up stools. “The usual?” Neville asked Tom. The latter nodded. “And for the new Ambassador?” the barkeep then asked, proving once more his knack for staying abreast of the international organizations latest happenings.

“Jack Daniels, on the rocks,” Jackson said, looking around the bar.

A moment later, both had their drinks in hand, the janitor his pombe, the Ambassador his bourbon. “You got a cig?” Jackson asked Tom.

“Still smoking O.P.'s?” the janitor said, withdrawing a pack from inside his blue jean vest. Laughing, the Ambassador drew one, thanked him, declined the pack, and then smiled as Tom deftly struck a match with the same hand. He didn't decline the matchbook when offered; that would be improper.

Then, taking a long drag on his cigarette, Ambassador Jackson asked the question that was foremost on his mind.

“So ... Where are all the chicks?”

Stew approaches the bar and places his empty ale mug on the top, and overhears the Community Property Ambassador's comments. Turning, he said politely (as befitting the position as a polite neophyte), "I do believe they are on the farm in the country... perhaps I can get you a map?"

With that, Stew bows to the Community Property Delegation, and departs...

Relentlessly Neville scrubbed and scrubbed at the markings on his face. Scrubbed and scrubbed and scr --

"What the hell am I doing?"

"You're trying to get rid of the decorations Jimmy put on your face while you were asleep," Dicey Reilly told him, from her perch on the official Ardchoillean embassy barstool. "Pity, really. I quite liked them. Very masculine, I thought. Rugged."

"The cat-whisker ones were most becoming," Bast agreed, licking a paw politely.

"Yes, but why would I want to scrub them off?" Neville queried, eyeing himself with approval in the mirrored display behind the bar. "I didn't want to do that. It's as if I'd been taken over by -- I dunno, an Alien Intelligence, or something. A Mysterious Force. A Strange Power."

"A Bloody Nuisance, in my opinion, if it's stopping you getting our drinks," Dicey complained.

But it did her no good. Neville was still staring at his reflection, trying to trace the faint marks that were all that remained of Jimmy's joke.

"You know what?" he eventually breathed, sounding unnaturally awed. "It can't be just coincidence. When Jimmy drew those marks he unconsciously followed faithfully the ritual tribal Barlordian markings that raise a chosen barman to the exalted degree of Barduke! He must have been channeling the UBarlord! I am now a Barduke!"

"And I am still Barthirsty!" responded Dicey sourly. "Don't take your face at face value, Neville. Wait until you've got your hands on the actual certificate first. Or whatever it is they give you," she added. "Can't trust anyone these days."

Neville looked more closely at her. "Aw, Dice, someone let you down?" he enquired sympathetically.

Dicey looked uncomfortable. "Oh, men in general. Men in particular. You're an odd bunch, you males."

"Guess I'd better not pass on that message to you from Baron von Richtoffen, then." He smiled to see Dicey's eyes light up. "Oh, and did you know the, er, crea -- bunn -- guy from Invisible Wabbits was in here just a while ago?"

Dicey flung her debating notes joyfully in the air. A gust of wind sucked them out through the broken window that had allowed passage to a certain beagle-driven Cobdenian biplane, and a robot destructor bunny flung itself suicidally after them.

Neville made a mental note to ask Dazza the chef about the little menaces. He was Australian, obviously he should know what to do about rabbits. Other than cook them, of course.

On second thoughts, not. Dazza was an alarmingly inventive chef. Robot Rabbit Roti was all too likely. Hmmm ... note to Building Management ...

Neville cogitated serenely while the Universe unfolded as it should.

Stew approaches the bar and places his empty ale mug on the top, and overhears the Community Property Ambassador's comments. Turning, he said politely (as befitting the position as a polite neophyte), "I do believe they are on the farm in the country... perhaps I can get you a map?"

With that, Stew bows to the Community Property Delegation, and departs...Jackson turned to the janitor. “Who in the Hell was that cat?”

“Just some usually polite neophyte,” replied Tom with a slight smile of amusement.

Cami walked into the Bar, went to her usual table, and ordered a cup of coffee. She wanted to go over her guest list one last time. The office was ready, although her staff was buzzing around, finishing up last minute touches. She had hoped that the Stranger's Bar would be less hectic, and at least for now, that seemed to be the case.

Glancing around, she noticed the delegates from Community Property at a table a ways away. Motioning for the server, she asked that a round of drinks be sent to their table, with her compliments.

Christopher entered the Strangers Bar, taking a look around before making his way to the bar and getting a cup of tea. He sipped it, sighing in satisifaction, "Mmm, Earl Grey."

Turning to lean back against the bar, the Islenskan ambassador began scanning the room, his eyes moving left and right, up and down, in search of a certain someone. Sadly, that fair, Ariddian, beauty was not present, but her friend, Cami, was. Making his way over, Christopher smiled down at Ms. Langdon, his hand resting on the top of an empty chair, "Is this seat taken?"

Cami smiled warmly at the Islenskan.

"Not at all, please sit down. How are you today, Chris?"

Christopher smiled back as he sat down, taking another sip of tea before sighing contently, "Oh, I'm fine, fine. I just left the assembly after making my vote on the repeal."

"So now I'm going to be waiting until Christelle shows up and then we'll go to your open house," Mentioning Ms. Zyryanov caused Christopher to turn, looking towards the entrance for a moment like a love sick puppy. Reluctantly, he turned back to Camryn, "May I ask how you voted?"

She couldn't help but smile happily, as she noticed Christopher scanning the room for Christelle. Those two certainly had it bad for each other!

"Are you talking about the Due Process Repeal? If so, we are voting for it. We just don't think the existing resolution is well written."

Cami took a sip of her coffe then continued, "And may I ask how you voted as well?"

Entering the bar, Stew is followed by Charlie- his Aide, "How many applicants do we have for the positions?"

Charlie responds in a deep baritone, "One, Grand Utoy... a Janice Jacobs." Handing a green folder to Stew, he continues, "I shall leave you while look her records, sir." With that Charles is gone.

Rather absent mindedly, Stew goes to the bar and orders a Kokannee and Clamato, starting to read the file. Taking his drink, he goes to a quiet booth, not noticing Chris or Cami at their table as he passed- his mind on the papers before him. It'd be nice to have a Secretary... even better to have an office for them to work out of...

Hirosami Kildarno is more often spotting keeping himself to himself, lurking in the main chambers making comments to anyone who he thinks might deserve a comment.

Not this time however. One of the perks of the job as foreign minister of Hirota is you set how long your lunch breaks are. On this particular day, fuelled by the earlier departmental christmas lunch and associated alcoholic beverages, Snr Kildarno had decided to have a long lunch. At least until the christmas party later into the day, and possibly well into next morning to recover.

Whilst Snr Kildarno could dictate his lunch hours, his staff had no such luxury. So we find Snr Kildarno as a somewhat lonely figure quitely muttering into a mug of Hirotan ale.

"We voted for the repeal as well. It just seemed silly having a peice of legislation like that that imposed a Grand Jury on all nations in the U.N. Also, I must admit proper grammar is one of my biggest pet peeves, so it unnerved me quite a bit seeing that such a badly written proposal had been accepted."

Though he enjoyed talking with Cami, it was difficult for him not to look back to the entrance, his eyes glancing that way every so often. He noticed that knowing smile that she was giving him, and had to admit to himself that it seemed rather amusing. But he was so mad for Christelle that it was practically impossible to get through an hour without thinking about her.

Taking one quick look to the entrance, he then looked back to Cami, "So, is everything set up for the open house?"

Cami laughed as Christopher explained his vote. She too, had been appalled at the poor grammar in the original resolution.

She saw Stew come in and go to a back booth, his head buried in a folder that appeared to be important.

"I know what you mean about the grammar, Chris, it bothered me too."

She tapped the papers she had on the table next to her as she continued. "Yes, I think we're all set. I was just reviewing the guest list one last time. Jimmy already has the bar set up, except for the ice, of course, so as long as the food gets here on time, we should be good to go."

She smiled delightedly, thinking about it. It was important to her that it go off well, as their first official reception at the UN.

Doctor Olembe trudges into the bar. He grins as he spots the Co-President of Ardchoille. He plods over and hauls himself up onto the next barstool.

"Hullo, Dicey. I figured it was time to take you up on that omelette offer." ;)

Sipping his drink, Stew looks over the file, Well... no criminal record... good education...she's experienced... Stew flips through the pages. No picture though, strange. Well, she is also the only applicant, so I guess I'll have to give her a go.

Closing the file, and tucking it into a secure pocket of his robes, Stew takes a sip and looks around, seeing Cami and Chris. Not really wanting to sit alone, stands up and carries his drink over, "Good day, may I have the pleasure of joining the two of you?"

"Be my guest, Stew. We were just discussing our votes on the Due Process repeal."

Cami oved her papers, so Stew could sit down.

"Do you mind if I ask how you voted?"

Walking into the Bar, Christelle's eyes turned straight to their "usual table"... where she found Christopher, Cami and Stew already seated. Smiling, she walked up to them.

"Hello!" she said cheerily. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Hello, love," she said to Christopher with a loving smile, and gave him a soft, tender kiss on the lips before sitting down, snuggling up to him.

"How have you all been?"

"I voted for the Repeal. I received word last night that my intended assassin has gotten his knife, so in a few ways I'll be heading back to the Capital to give him his chance at honour." Sipping his drink, Stew leans forward a bit, "So far I've got one applicant for the Secretary's position."

His smile brightening,"I am also very much looking forward to the party tonight." Upon Telle's arrival, Stew stands up in greeting, "Hello, Telle- I'm doing pretty good today... You?"

Cami smiled at her friend warmly as she joined them.

"I'm fine, Christelle, and you?"

"Stew, I wish you the best with both, the secretary, and the nasty business."

Christopher had been listening patiently to the other ambassadors as they spoke, sipping his tea and trying to keep his mind off of wondering where Christelle was. However, it didn't stop the little 'tells'; his fingers tapping on the table and his feet tapping underneath it were all small signs of his anticipation and anxiousness.

And then, they suddenly stopped at the sound of that wonderful voice. Looking up, he say Christelle abve him, joining her in a kiss and sighing joyfully as he placed his arms around her, "I missed you, my love. Are we still on for Cami's open house?"

Stew looks at Cami, "Well, her file seems to indicate she's well suited for the position." Chuckling a little, "As for the 'nasty business', I'm sure the outcome will be a properly honourable resolution."

Getting a puzzled looking on his face, Stew ponders a couple of the dates and places listed in the applicant's file, I wonder... Nah, couldn't be... Shaking the thought from his mind for now, Stew smiles and sips his drink. "So, Chris... Telle... How were your nights last night? Slept well, I hope?"

Christelle returned Christopher's hug, and kissed him on the cheek.
"Of course we are," she told him happily, glancing over at Cami. "And I'm fine, thank you," she answered her friend.

She hesitated a little at Stew's question, wondering whether it could possibly be innocent.

"Yes... Very well, thanks," she answered somewhat cautiously.

"Good to hear," Stew says warmly, "A good night is important to a healthy Life after, eh?" Ah... to be them... Well, I certainly wish Cami and the Major the best... and I wish Telle and Chris all the Happiness in the Universe as well.

Cami looked at Stew quizzically, trying to figure out if he was teasing Telle and Chris. Shaking her head slightly at him, she took a sip of her coffee, then addressed the table as a whole.

"I'm really getting excited about this evening, and getting to meet some of the ambassadors off the GA floor."

"Yes, should prove interesting... Though you may want to avoid the new Community Property Ambassador, as I heard him last night asking 'where the chicks were'..." Shaking his head, Stew gives Cami a quick look, Yes, I think her and the Major are a good match- Fates grace them.

Stew tries to keep the wistfulness from his voice as he addresses Chris and Telle fondly, "It will be good to see you both there. Be nice to see friends nearby."

"Yes," Christelle agreed, "it should be a very interesting evening." She had been rather looking forward to it. Perhaps they would make new friends among their fellow ambassadors. She gave Cami a warm smile. "I'm sure it'll be a great success!"

Resting her head on Christopher's shoulder, and slipping her arm round him, she looked up at him.

"Oh, that reminds me, Chris, darling... I've narrowed it down to two dresses for this evening. I'd like your advice on which one I should wear." She smiled at him, and turned her head to place a soft kiss on his neck. "What will you be wearing, handsome?"

She gave Stew a quick nod and a smile in response to his comment.

Cami grinned at Christelle. "I was going to tell you last night, when we were talking about what I am wearing, that since my ancestors were a warrior clan, I am also entitled to wear a ceremonial, but fully functional sword with it."

She paused, glancing at Stew, with mirth in her eyes. "But given that the Kennyites may show up, I deiced I better not wear it! I'd hate to have to use it!"

Cami couldn't resist a laugh.

Christopher had to admit that Stew's question had thrown him off guard, luckily, before he could speak, Christelle answered. Nodding his head and gently hugging with her, he smiled, "Yes, I'm sure it will be very enjoyable, especially with you there, my love."

Looking down to Christelle, he brushed a strand of hair from her face, "Of course I'll help, dear."

He looked down at his own clothes, then back to the new love of his life, "Well, I do have something else I can wear to it," He kissed her forehead in return, smiling a little nervously as he wondered at her response, "We Islenskans don't really wear suits that often."

Christelle joined in her friend's laughter, as she imagined Cami threatening Kennyite "guests" with a ceremonial - but undoubtedly sharp - sword.

"Of, I don't know." She grinned. "It might do them good."

Looking at Chrisopher once more, she smiled.
"So I've noticed," she said gently. "But then, you look handsome in anything." She kissed him briefly. "I'll look forward to seeing you in a suit, though!"

Smiling back at Cami, Stew laughs "Hehehe... I'm sure seeing you handle a sword would be an education... I have great respect for women that handle sharp objects with skill." Stew then give Cami a wink, "Of course, I'd be tempted to join in with my own sword."

Fiddling a bit with his tie, Stew says as a joke, "I just hope the sight of my legs in a kilt don't scare guests off... of course, we could use that a deterrent for 'undesirables", eh?"

"I doubt that will happen, Stew. Personally, I like the looks of most men in kilts, but that could just be my ancestral pride showing."

Glancing at her watch, Cami smiled. "Time keeps marching, doesn't it? I've got to get back upstairs, and check on things. I'll see you all a little later!"



(OOC: I'll be opening the IC thread shortly, over on the NS forums! :))

Blushing slightly at Cami's comment about men in kilts, he only stammers a little, "Well, I'll endeavour to make my legs worth looking at then. And see you later at the party." Stew stands as Cami prepares to depart.

Neville looked more closely at her. "Aw, Dice, someone let you down?" he enquired sympathetically.

Dicey looked uncomfortable. "Oh, men in general. Men in particular. You're an odd bunch, you males."

"Guess I'd better not pass on that message to you from Baron von Richtoffen, then." He smiled to see Dicey's eyes light up. "Oh, and did you know the, er, crea -- bunn -- guy from Invisible Wabbits was in here just a while ago?"

Dicey flung her debating notes joyfully in the air.

A furry (but invisible) arm is placed around Dicey's shoulders, and she's kissed on the cheek.
"Hi, gorgeous," Harry McWabbit says, "I was hoping that you'd drop by. My brother Harvey's planning on holding a party soon, and I wondered whether you'd care to accompany me to it..."

"We'll see you soon!" Christelle told Cami, smiling. She stretched slightly in Christopher's arms, and looked at him. "Shall we go and get changed?"

Cami gathered her things, waved goodbye to her friends, and headed back upstairs.

"I, myself have a few things to do before the party. I will see you all there." Stew bows to everyone left and heads toward the door of the bar...

Christopher looked down to Christelle, smiling and nodding his head, "Sure. I'll help you pick out a dress.. and then I suppose I'll try and find a suit to wear."

Ruth Fielding, office manager for the Drae Nei delegation, strode briskly into the Stranger's Bar.

"Neville, Ambassador Langdon asked me to let you know that the reception (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=509776) is kicking off. If anyone gets lost, and ends up in here, please let them know we are on the 38th floor, okay?"

Having said what she came to say, Ruth turned, strode back out, and headed back upstairs.

Glancing around, she noticed the delegates from Community Property at a table a ways away. Motioning for the server, she asked that a round of drinks be sent to their table, with her compliments.“My, my, my!” cooed Ambassador Jackson. “Who's the foxy lady?”

“Cami Langdon, the Ambassador from Drae Nei,” said Tom calmly. “And, I believe, taken.”

Jackson chuckled. “She ain't met me yet, my man.” Then, to himself, he said, “That's one fine woman...”

Christopher looked down to Christelle, smiling and nodding his head, "Sure. I'll help you pick out a dress.. and then I suppose I'll try and find a suit to wear."

Christelle smiled, and stood gracefully.
"All right, then. Let's go. I'll help you pick a suit."

As they walked out of the Bar, she told him lightly:
"I've got a black dress and a red one. Which colour do you prefer, love?"

Meritania Garrote (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=11969898&postcount=9) strode purposefully into the Stranger's Bar, looking for that bastardo, Accelerus. She had yet to figure out what Sam I Am had seen in the horny old man currently serving as the HotRodian UN Representative, and had been inclined to fire him for his undiplomatic approach to UN matters.

But after observing several UN debates, she had decided that he deserved a reward for putting up with the rampant nonsense and stupidity that seemed to have gathered in these hallowed halls of stupid law and arrogant men with an amazing need to compensate for their insecurities.

Not seeing the old man anywhere, or his new wife (the poor thing), Meritania walked up to the bar and ordered some tequila to drink and analyze while she waited.

Prince Tang took a long drink. He had deviated from his usual mixture of camiellia sinensis and was drinking something alcoholic. It was only natural, given that there was now a war going on in the Empire.

A Sanctioned War was the government's way of ensuring that the Empire would last. Based on the premise that long-lasting peace always foreshadowed the end of a hegemonic state, and that war strengthened the nation, they had made it legal for the various regions to go to war with each other - but never the Imperial government. That way, the violent tendencies of the elements of the Empire would be assuaged.

Tang frowned. The Abdians had been trying for the past 20,000 years to conquer the Independent Systems, which had repelled them almost every time, and the few times they were victorious they had either been forced out or defeated themselves. Now, they were at it again. He wondered how the young Imperial Prince Theran was doing... his schooling was held on the LIS planet of Pecktal.

Rang Erman coughed to get the Prince's attention.

"My boy, cheer up. John's just told me that the renovations are nearing completion. Old Pendankr had wonderful old-style taste, but the new offices should be stunning."

The Prince smiled, and then looked around the bar. The new ambassador from Community Property was eying up Ms. Langdon. Tang smirked at the irony, only the other day Ms. Langdon was ready to set fire to the Community Propertites. He motioned to the bar.

"Neville, send Mr. Jackson a drink on us, with a note."

He scribbled out a short message, handing it to the Barlord.

Erman looked at him quizzically. "What did it say?"

Tang smiled. "Oh, nothing much. Just Am I happy, or in misery? Welcome to the UN."

He sat back, took a drink, and laughed.

Walking from the Stranger's Bar, Christopher put his arm around Christelle, "Red or black? Definately black."

"As for the suit, well, do I have to wear one?" He looked over at her, a bit of pleading in his eyes, "Suits make me uncomfortable and overdressed."

Dr. Olembe hops off the barstool. "Aw, sh... er... sugar. 'Scuse me Dicey. Gotta run. I'm supposed to be at that Dra Nei reception. Miu's probably standing outside the door tapping her foot already. Rain check on the omelette, alright?"

With that, he rushes out the door, bowling over two unsuspecting representatives with muttered apologies.

Christelle laughed. The expression on Christopher's face was adorable.

"Come on," she told him teasingly, "I really want to see you in a suit. I'm sure you'll look... very smart." Leaning into him slightly, his closeness making her feel, as always, almost giddy with excitement, she whispered in his ear: "And if you're very good, perhaps I'll help you out of it later."

She winked at him, and led him to her office, where they found Min looking slightly anxious. She was wearing a beautiful, delicate dress, and tugging at her sleeves nervously.

"Comrade Ambassador!" her secretary blurted out with relief. "You're not even changed. We're going to be late!" Noticing Christopher's presence, the young woman bowed slightly. "Your Excellency."

Christelle smiled.
"Relax. I'm going to get changed now." She turned to Christopher, and grinned. "Want to help me into my dress?" she asked playfully. "It's in the other room."

If anyone else had asked Christopher to wear a suit, he would have adamantly refused. He absolutely could not stand wearing outfits like that, and he always felt so uncomfortable in them. However, the person asking now was the woman he had fallen madly in love with, how could he say no? So, defeated, he smiled, "Alright, for you I will wear a suit."

Once in the office, Christopher realized there was someone else here. He looked to the woman and could only assume it was Christelle's assistant, Min. He smiled and waved to her, doing his best to not appear as silly as he had been only a few short moments ago.

Turning to Christelle, he followed after, "I would love to help."

"Min's right," Christelle told him, as she led him by the hand into the other room. "We'd better hurry or we'll be late." She walked over to the two dresses she had selected, and carefully picked up the black one, holding it up for Christopher to see.

"Do you like it?" she asked him hopefully. Hanging it up, she began to get undressed. "I'll need your help to fasten it up," she told him, and looked over at him. "If you can stop staring for a moment," she added with a teasing wink.

"It's beautiful," the comment was directed toward two different things, though he wasn't entirely sure Christelle understood that until she realized he was staring at her. And indeed, he did have to force himself to quite oogling her so that he could help her with the dress.

When Christelle was ready, he took the dress and helped her get into it. Once she had it on, his hands moved around to her back, taking the zipper and pulling it up from behind until it had reached the top. Finished, he leaned in, giving her a little kiss on the neck and cheek.

"Alright, I think you're ready. But what about me?"

Christelle sighed contentedly, enjoying his kisses, then turned and swirled round gracefully, showing off her elegant black dress.

"How do I look?" She smiled at him. "Well, we're going to have to find you a suit, aren't we? Is there anyone you can borrow something from?"

"You look absolutely stunning. I may need Cami's sword tonight to fight off any would-be suitors that head your ways," He grinned, kissing her softly before looking down and trying to think, "Hmm, I'm not entirely sure. Maybe you could call Camryn, she might know where to get a suit."

Christelle blushed.

"See?" she said softly. "You're not just handsome, you also have good ideas. And you're good at flattery," she added with a grin as she picked up her mobile phone and opened it, calling Cami. After a brief conversation, she turned to the man she loved.

"You're lucky. Cami says the major may have something you can wear. He's kindly offered to bring a suit round round for you."

She moved closer to him, slipping her arms round him and looking into his eyes, smiling.

"Ah, Chris, my love..." she said, sighing happily. "Who hasn't even got a suit to wear." She kissed him softly, then kissed him again. "What on earth am I going to do with you?"

Christopher smiled, "The same could be said for you, my love."

He waited patiently as she called, dreading and hoping at the same time that he could get a suit. And when Christelle told him there was one available, he was both happy and yet a little disappointed.

Slipping his arms around her as she did the same, he grinned, kissing with her both times before nuzzling against her, "I could think of a few things, but they will have to wait until after Cami's party."

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Ruth Fielding, Cami's office manager, stood there with a dark gray suit, shirt and tie included, in her hands. She handed it off, and headed back up to the reception.

Christelle giggled.
"Only if you're a good boy and you don't complain about your suit!" she told him mock-sternly. She leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose. Her hands caressed his back softly, and she gave him another kiss on the lips - a longer one this time, her mouth pressing against his with barely contained passion.

She knew she had to control herself, especially with Min in the other room and someone from Drae Nei on their way with the suit, but Christopher's mere presence was so overwhelming that she struggled not to kiss him even more passionately...

Seemingly just a few moments later, the suit arrived. Christelle thanked Ms. Fielding gratefully, then returned to her private part of the office. On her way, she sent Min off to find Dr. Telkijski, and to take two chilled bottles of grapefruit vodka round to Cami's office, promising to join them shortly.

"All right, now let's get you changed!" she told Christopher, with a wicked grin.

As he and Christelle kissed, it was as though he had ended up in one of those cartoon shows, hearing two voices in his head like the little angel and the little demon. One told him to forget about Cami's party, that it was just a silly little office party and no one would even care that they hadn't shown up. However, the other voice told him that it was wrong to go back on a promise and keep Christelle here when she wanted to go.

At the knock on the door, Christopher broke the kiss and made his way over, accepting the suit and thanking the Drae Nei woman for bringing it. Entering Christelle's office, he quickly changed outfits, folding up his original clothes and setting them off to the side.

With the suit on, he did his best not the fidget, trying to squirm around in it and get comfortable. Turning to Christelle with a defeated look in his eyes, he asked, "How do I look?"

Christelle laughed gently at his hurt puppy dog look.

"You look wonderful," she told him lovingly. "Handsome as ever, and very smart. You should wear a suit more often," she teased, and grinned.

"Come on," she added. "Let's not keep Cami waiting."

She gave him one last kiss on the lips, then slipped her hand into his, squeezing it adoringly and leading him out of her office.

It made him feel a little better knowing that Christelle liked him in a suit, but it wasn't going to change his whole view on the outfit. Nodding his head, he followed along with Ms. Zyryanov, walking from the office as they headed towards Cami's.

Smiling, he returned the kiss and stopped at the right office, opening the door and holding it open for her, "Ladies first."

Christelle smiled at him lovingly.

"Always a gentleman," she whispered, giving his hand a last squeeze, and walked in (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=12042954&posted=1#post12042954).

Invisible Wabbits;12040957']A furry (but invisible) arm is placed around Dicey's shoulders, and she's kissed on the cheek.
"Hi, gorgeous," Harry McWabbit says, "I was hoping that you'd drop by. My brother Harvey's planning on holding a party soon, and I wondered whether you'd care to accompany me to it..."

"Oh, Fluffle, you're such a comfort, I'd love to," purred Dicey. "Your family's all being so welcoming." She snuggled back thankfully into the furry embrace.

For those without the gift of seeing invisible wabbits, it looked as if she was leaning back at an impossible angle, saved from falling only by some unknown magic. That's certainly how it looked to Michael Grandison, lowly student in Magical Visualisation I, former Grandalf, former leader of the Kennyite hippie invasion and present Ardchoillean ambassador to Ausserland.

"Heh-heh, just look at her!" he chuckled to his classmates at Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork, where he had enrolled part-time to sharpen his newly acquired magical powers (in this case, psychic sight).

"That's my girl! That's our Dicey! Doing magic in public without a care in the world! Doesn't give a damn about those ol' fogies back in Artichokeville!"

Dicey could have put him right on a few points there -- not least, the "my girl" bit, not to mention the propriety of the Ardchoillean Ambassador referring to the place as "Artichokeville" -- but her attention was caught by the sight of Ausserland's Dr Olembe scrambling from the Bar at rather more than his usal dignified pace to reach some new nation's party on the 38th floor.

Dicey knew it was the 38th floor because ... because ... because she'd told her new intern to meet her there so they could continue familiarising the brat with the UN. And she'd just remembered it. And she should have been there five minutes ago.

"Sorry, Harry dear, duty calls, gotta go!" she gasped, gulping her drink with one hand and disappearing herself with the other. Only a faint whisper was left, fading into the Bar's darker corners ...

"I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!"

Stew enters, looking slightly pale. He heads over to the bar and asks for a Ginger Ale and a bowl of Ramen Noodles before heading to a booth. He eases into it and sighs.

I wonder what all I missed... I really hated not being able to go to Cami's party. I'll have to find a way to make amends to my friend...

(OCC- Oh... It's been a few days for me. LOL Be there shortly then...)

Feeling the urge to see if the part is still going on, Stew heads out)

A woman, about 5 foot 7 inches enters, her long blonde hair bobbing around her shoulders entered the bar. Her eyes was searching from a particular person... her new boss. She'd known him from way back- when she was married, and he was apprenticing to be a leader.

I wonder if he even remembers me, especially since I made sure there was no photo attached to my file. Want to surprise him. Fates knows it took a lot to make sure I was the only applicant for the position as his Secretary...

Seeing that Stew was nowhere in the bar, she humphed, and turned to go, Yeah- figures, Mikey was always the hardest guy to find in the Capital... Well, won't he be surprised tomorrow...

With that Janice Jacobs, Grand Utoy Stewey's new secretary left, smiling wickedly...

Major Robards had abandoned the reception for a few minutes, and was on a mission. While he knew that there was no relationship between himself and Ambassador Langdon, he simply didn't like the way that Ambassador Edward "Speed Demon" Jones, was looking at her.

Walking up to the bar, he asked Neville for a short Wiki Brandy, then pressed him. "What can you tell me about Ambassador Jones, of Texan Hotrodders, Neville. Any dirt?"

A Delivery woman came to the appropriate service entrance and knocked on the door. For some reason she had pallates of Bazalope decorated mugs. She had just delivered a basket to the Drae Nei reception and now whether or not these mugs where expected she didn't know but it was her job to get them to their stated destination. Which in this case was the United Nation Strangers Bar... She noticed a buzzer and pressed it and waited... someone was sure to come.

Walking up to the bar, he asked Neville for a short Wiki Brandy, then pressed him. "What can you tell me about Ambassador Jones, of Texan Hotrodders, Neville. Any dirt?"

"Only what his wheels throw out," Neville returned. "Not that I'd tell you if there was. What happens in the Bar, stays in the Bar. More or less, anyway," he amended, innate honesty overcoming outraged professionalism.

"I don't gossip about my customers, Major," he added stiffly,while somewhere the Recording Angel sighed and turned another page. "But even if I did, there wouldn't be anything to say about Edward Jones. He's your ultimate Texan Hotrodder."

He polished a glass reflectively and unbent a little. " I think they must have a factory where they turn them out," he said. "Straight as a die, upright as a -- whatever it is that's upright, clean as a whistle. Clean mind, healthy body. They're all like that -- all the ones you see here, anyway. And Edward's even likeable with it. Damn the man. If you could only just hate him, it'd be easier to put up with him, but he's just too ... well ... nice."

Embarrassed by having given such a ringing recommendation, Neville poured himself a brandy, too. Thoughtfully he added his and Major Robards' drinks to the tab of Accelerus Dioce. The Hotrodian UN rep had said it before witnesses in the General Assembly: free drinks in the Strangers Bar when the latest repeal passed. True, he hadn't said it to Neville in person, but that was surely a technicality ...

Violet was dealing with another technicality.

"What in the name of all that's wonderful is a Bazalope?" she demanded. It was a rhetorical question -- she could see plainly what a Bazalope was, its image was plastered all over these mysterious mugs -- but fussing about it was giving her a few minutes to decide what to do about them. And it worked. She decided.

"Neville! Oh, NEVVVVIIIILLLE! You're needed! Out here! NOW!"

Great, just wonderful.

"Thanks, Neville, for the drink and the information. Sorry I asked, and you're right. Gossiping about your customers is not the mark of a good bartender."

So, Ambassador Jones was upright, clean as a whistle, nice, and even likeable. All good things, right?

If there was only good news about him, why wasn't he happy about that?

Major Robards scowled, dropped a tip on the bar, and waved to Neville.

"I'd better get back upstairs."

Sammy heaved a frustrated sigh as he flopped himself down into a barstool and motioned Neville for a beer. The General Assembly sure knew how to put a guy to sleep lately, even a guy as naturally boring as him. Now he understood what Dob Flibble meant when he contended that LAE was the greatest cure for insomnia he'd ever encountered. He reached into his jeans and pulled out a folded-up copy of the UN docket. Rono Pyandran (http://z11.invisionfree.com/Antarctic_Oasis/index.php?showtopic=276) was right; it was much more amusing when translated into jive. Momentarily the kid amused himself by trying to do the same, but he wasn't half as good (http://sites.gizoogle.com/index2.php?url=http%3A%2F%2Fforums.jolt.co.uk%2Fforumdisplay.php%3Ff%3D1225) as Rono in that department.

He gazed about the establishment and noticed a good number of absences. The place is a freakin' Ghost Town, he marveled to himself. Where the heck is everyone?

Then he spotted an abandoned flier on the countertop. Drae Nei Office Warming Party (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=509776). So that's where everyone has disappeared off to, he thought forlornly: yet another UN reception that I'm not invited to.

It was just as well, however: he'd heard that the company in the Strangers' Bar was pretty dull recently.

Suddenly Cmdr. Chiang's voice rang in his ear. "Ambassador, this is a Code Red! CODE RED! Crackpot is in the cesspit! Repeat: CRACKPOT IS IN THE CESSPIT!!"

"Where is he?" Sammy replied.

"Approaching the Drae Nei office suite," reported Chiang.

"Well, why can't you get him? You are the head of security."

"You're closer. And besides, I'm in the middle of a show, Goddammit!"

"I'm on it," Sammy conceded as he tossed a few coins onto the counter and picked up the pace toward a side exit.

Janice Jacobs- Grand Utoy Stewey's new Secretary entered, once again seeking her new boss. Her blue eyes scanned the room for him... but not finding him. I wonder if he's at that Drae Nei reception... I'll have to check it out...

Her already wicked grin grew even more naughty at the thought of it...

Oh yeah... I'm going to have to check it out... she thought as she left...

What a strange enviroment, not knowing anyone could be trouble for the Queendom. She had been entrusted with such a high honor going over from the Royal Parliment where she knew everyone and was freinds with everyone, now here at the United Nations where she knew nobody. She hadn't had the pleasure of attending the General Assembly yet, honestly she was still amazed by the joining up by the Queendom.

She sat down at the bar. "Bar tender, I'll have anything non-alcholic, please thank you."

Alejandra was 35, but looked as though she was 20, naturally tan skin, and lovely red hair tied back in a pony tail with a fairly large bow that held it together. Classy girl, she was.

"Yes, a Bazalope, National Animal of Bazalonia. You can see it on the flag." she said as she waited for this "Neville" to come.

She stood their awkwardly for the moment. Either the Person came out here had no idea of the delivery's which not be something she would do or that she was delivering something that the people receiving had no idea about. The call for back up would happen either way.

The Delivery woman's name was Mary and she was a very experienced delivery person, she even delivered to the now Ex-Prime Minister of Bazalonia, Stephen Hawdon and Bouquet of Flowers. She smiled a nice polite smile and waited for something to happen.

Meritania sighed, and walked out of the bar. Accelerus Dioce wasn't showing up anytime soon, that was clear, and she'd rather not waste her time waiting any longer for the old bastardo.

She had noticed a couple of office parties listed on the UN events calendar display, and decided to attend the second one and do some networking. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long to get to the offices for the nation of Ellelt. The name wasn't in her memory, and there was no information regarding the nation, but that would soon be rectified.

"I don't know what's going on, you don't know what's going on, she doesn't know what's going on," Neville mused.

"So stop sounding like a grammar book and do something," urged Violet.

"Well, for starters, I'm going to sign anything this nice lady wants signed so she can get out of here -- or you could have a drink or a meal, if you like, petal; we'll put it on Bazalonia's tab. And those, my dear Violet, are the magic words," he added with a flourish.

"Put it on Bazalonia's tab?"

"Preee-cisely. Then, if Bazalonia actually wanted mugs plastered with Bazalopes delivered to the Bar, they pay for them. If they didn't want them, it's some sort of kerfuffle they sort out themselves, and they make whoever's responsible pay for them. The point is, the Bar doesn't. Pay for them, I mean."

"What if they're some sort of fiendish weapon set to explode the minute a certain combination of liquor hits their insides?' objected Violet. "Or if they contain micro-miniaturised listening devices that will pinpoint the exact location of their subject? Or maybe the illustrations will release infinitesimal capsules of an exotic poison that won't show its effects till weeks later? Or --"

"You've been listening to the General Assembly again, haven't you?" Neville said disapprovingly. "I can tell, you know; you've got obstructionist legalisms just oozing out of every pore. Well, I say PFFFT! to your obstructionist legalisms! I trust our Acme Weapons Transmogrifier to turn everything inimical into something comical, as it has from time immemorial."

He executed a snappy 1920s tap-dance sequence, ending up at the door back into the Bar, where he paused long enough to add, "And, besides, there's a new redhead in the Bar, and you know what I'm like about redheads!"

Violet didn't, but she knew what she was like about Nevilles who told her she had anything oozing out of her pores. If the Bazalonians were up to anything, they'd just acquired a hidden helping hand.

"Why don't you come inside, take a break, tell me what it's like being a delivery lady?" she urged Mary. "You must meet so many fascinating people ..."

"Thank you, My name is Mary." she said as all the paperwork had been signed.

After a few minutes of trying to find a suitable place to unload it didn't take very long at all for all of the mugs to be unloaded and pack up neatly in the Strangers Bar and so when she had finished she let out a bit of a sigh of release.

"A delivery persons job is never really dull, I suppose you can never be sure who you are going to deliver to or what you are delivering, I've even had what I thought was a standard delivery that ended up going to the Prime Minister of Bazalonia, you can just imagine the security protocols that had to be done."

"Do you get many national leaders coming through here? Oh, and mind if I head out into the Bar proper?"

Josef Sayle once again entered the bar from his old, partially rusted, tan Yugo, with an aide at his side. It had been a while; the last time he paid a visit, he was stabbed. Luckily it was non-lethal, but it was still a royal pain in the arse, especially since he couldn't be with his people when the hurricane hit. Taking a seat nervously at the bar, he ordered a lovely double-shot of vodka and another for his aide. He decided to sport a false beard for this trip, not wanting a deadlier repeat of the previous events. Politics can be so tiring. Still, though, what a life to lead. Every day brings a new challenge and a new discovery.

Meanwhile, Sebastian Dusza waited outside, punching keys into his phone.

"Hello, Aleksi? This is Dusza. I think I've got everything worked out. Should I mail the plans? Uh-huh. Uhh... yeah. Hmm. Oh Jesus. What are they asking for? We kind of need this deal to pull through... hm. Look, just pay them what they want, you have to be able to get that shipment to us once the seasons change! Mm-hmm... all right. I'll talk to you later. Okay. Bye."

His plans for a mass-producable rifle were ready, but there seemed to be a worker's strike going on in the neighbouring country the factory was at. He sincerely hoped the rifle's shipment wouldn't be set back a year. It seemed like nothing was working today. But hey, there's always booze. Giving up, he stationed himself at the bar, ordered up a tall dark beer, and wondered where he could pick up some weed. He was tired, depressed, lonely, stressed out, and sick of everything. And he still had bruises from when he tripped out of his car and hit his head. He forgot his pool cue, too.

And as the beer arrived and he gulped down half, the realization that he also forgot his wallet with his money began to set in. And, in an instant, the day just got a whole lot worse.

Edward sauntered into the Bar, trying to unobtrusively check out all the good spots to see if they were taken. After a moment, he settled on a table in a far corner where he would be able to see her coming from wherever she decided to approach. He was wearing business-casual attire that showed off the shape of his well-toned body very nicely. It might not impress her, given that she looked fairly fit herself, but it couldn't hurt.

... "Do you get many national leaders coming through here? Oh, and mind if I head out into the Bar proper?"

"Mind? That's just what I want us both to do," urged Violet. "Where else will I be able to ply you with the finest of Dazza's cuisine and the best of our booze? After all, you're a worker, like me, and nothing's too good for the workers. So, Mary -- oh, my name's Violet, byt the way -- what was that you were saying about interesting deliveries?"

Scenting some gossip (and, next to getting the goods on Neville, gossip was one of Violet's favourite hobbies), she settled the delivery lady at a secluded table and scurried off to fetch a bottle of gossip-promoter.

Neville, meanwhile, was working hard on "anything non-alcoholic" for the new (redheaded! Wheee!) delegate from Aqua-Anu. He knew those after-hours seminars with the folk from the Temperance Union would come in handy sometime. But he was not so absorbed that he missed the plight of the Onebanestan rep.

He was just a little tempted to wait and see what would happen. The poor bloke was already patting some pret-ty improbable places on his person in the vain hope that money would materialise there. But no, he'd just about given up ...

"Cheer up, mate," Neville advised. "It can go on old Accelerus's tab. It's not as if he'll miss it, and he did say free drinks in the Bar."

Of course, the saying had been a debate or so ago, but he'd neglected to put any limit on the doing. In Neville's opinion, some loopholes just cried out to be leapt through.

As Violent returned with the bottle and some glasses Mary started talking about somethings.

"Some deliveries can be amazing and you will never and some you will want to forget, but, yeah where to start." She said pouring herself a glass of whatever it was that was in the bottle.

"Oh, yeah, I had to deliver this bunch of flowers to this lady, there was something going on with her husband, apparently very messy which somehow involved his best friend. Not sure exactly what it was and you don't pry, well too much anyway, with these things. The note said something like." Mary paused trying to get the exact or as close to exact words of the note that she could.
"My love for you reaches to the heavens, lifting us up to where God dwells.
My love for you goes to the depths of hell, I would be willing to go there for you.
My love from you stretches from horizon, There is no place that my love will not go with you."

It was very romantic and the flowers where absolutely beautiful... Do you know what she said in reply? 'Maybe he could use his love as a blanket because he's sure not staying here tonight.' and she shut the door on me."

She took a sip of the Drink and went "Oooo, nice, What is it?" before actually finishing the story.. "And do you know where the flowers are now? There still at my place in a vase, it would be such a pity to waste such flowers and she obviously didn't want them."

Things had been eventful in the Kirisuban NSUN mission with the result of the latest Kirisuban general election. the acting Ambassador had breezed into the bar and ordered a beer from Violet.

The former Ambassador Kaigan Miromuta had been offered and had accepted a post in the Imperial bodyguard and since Midori Kasigi-Nero was still nursing her twins Yukiko had been left as the Ambassador here.

Miss Uehara wasn't sure about the rumours that a member of the Kirisuban Imperial family was going to join her or not but if it was it was most likely going to Crown Princess Genjiko.

Still only 18 years old Genjiko's talent for diplomacy was obvious and despite her young age she had an old soul inside her.

Sipping at her beer she pondered the changes of personel and faces that she had seen already in her short time here. Wearing a red kimono she perched on a tall stool had a hard think about what she had seen and heard in the debating chamber.

Touching up her makeup, and fussing a bit with her hair, Cami anxiously asked Christelle, "Are you sure I look alright?"

She had changed into a semi casual, but rather slinky, black jersey knit outfit, laced with a bit of silk, for a shimmery appearance; a vee necked tunic over pants. The look was complimented by black high heels, and the lovely diamond pendant and earrings that Dahlia Dioce had given her earlier.

***************

Christelle had to smile at her friend. She was obviously nervous, but she also obviously wanted to impress Edward. Bemused, Christelle figured he was already impressed, otherwise, he wouldn't have asked her out!

"You look wonderful, Cami, trust me." Christelle's answer was a simple statement of truth. If Cami had known she would be meeting Edward for a drink this evening, she couldn't have picked a better outfit. Simple, casual, but elegant. It accentuated where it should, but wasn't overly sexy.

***************

The party had gone a bit later than nine o'clock, but Cami had expected that. Fortunately, Elliot and Mike had been good at unobtrusively shepherding their guests towards the door around that time. By the time the last had gone, it was almost ten o'clock, and Cami was getting worried that Edward would think she had stood him up.

She had asked Christopher if she could borrow Christelle, for a few minutes, while she got ready. Christopher had looked slightly confused, in the way many men do, when confronted with situations requiring female unity, but acquiesced with a smile.

Taking one last glance in the mirror, Cami refreshed her perfume, then turned to look at Christelle with a slightly troubled expression.

"Christelle...I...well, I think Major Robards may be...not happy with the attention that Edward paid to me this evening. I'd rather not have to discuss that with him right now, not that he has any right to be judgmental."

Cami's voice got a little strident as she continued, "Would it be alright if I escort you and Christopher out? I'd just rather not deal with an attitude from him right now..."

****************

Christelle nodded understandingly, and murmured, "Of course, Cami. What are friends for?"

She smiled at Cami, knowing indeed, that when feelings were involved, even the best diplomats could lose their speaking skills.

"Are you ready then?"

*****************

"Thanks, Telle." Cami was grateful she had met Christelle, and that the two had hit it off as friends. Making a mental note, she decided to take Christelle out for a girls only lunch, very soon. "You're the best!"

Impulsively, she hugged Christelle.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her purse, smiled at her friend, and said, "Let's go."

*****************

Christopher perked up as Ambassador Langdon's office door opened. Although she had looked wonderful in her ceremonial dress, what she was wearing now was undeniably sexier than a tartan skirt and sash. Not as sexy as Christelle though, he thought to himself.

Major Robards had been discussing military strength levels with him, while he listened dutifully, but Christopher noticed he had trailed off as Cami and Christelle entered the room.

He forgot about Major Robards entireley, as Christelle returned to his side, and slipped her hand in his.

The sweetest words he had heard all evening came with Christelle's next statement. "Ready to go, love?" She smiled warmly at him as she spoke. "Cami's going to walk us out."

****************

Elliot had already left, as had the rest of her staff, barring the guards newly on night duty. The only ones left in the office were Christelle, Christopher, herself, and Major Robards.

Before Major Robards could speak, Cami hurriedly said, "Thanks for the effort tonight, Major. I think it went well. I'll see your report on my desk Monday...no, Tuesday morning, alright?" She couldn't see having him working on the weekend, just for initial contact reports.

Staring at her, Major Robards said tersely, "Yes, ma'am. First thing."

He looked like he wanted to say more, but the circumstances prevented it. "Will that be all ma'am?"

Cami simply nodded her assent, and said, "Goodnight, Major."

Turning her attention to Christelle and Christopher, she said, "Shall we go?"

****************

As they left the office and boarded the elevator, Cami heaved a sigh of relief. She murmured "Thank you", to Christelle, "I owe you one."

The elevator stopped on the Bar floor, and Cami got out, thanking her friends for having attended the party.

Taking another deep breath, she pushed open the door, and entered the Strangers Bar.

Edward was getting rather bored. And somewhat tipsy despite his high alcohol tolerance, after all the drinks he had downed to pass the time. He blinked his eyes lazily, trying to maintain the appearance of complete sobriety, and suddenly noticed that Ambassador Langdon had walked into the bar.

She looked...amazing. He made a significant effort not to let his attraction to her get in the way of his basic functions, like balance or clear thought, and stood up. He waved slightly to let her know where he was.

Cami caught sight of Edward as he stood up, and motioned. Smiling, she returned the wave, and headed towards the table.

She couldn't help but notice that he had changed out of his suit, and was now dressed a bit more casually. He looked good.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Edward. Thanks for waiting. The party ran a bit long, although open houses often do." She took the chair next to him, and motioned for a server.

"Have you been waiting too terribly long?"

Cami caught sight of Edward as he stood up, and motioned. Smiling, she returned the wave, and headed towards the table.

She couldn't help but notice that he had changed out of his suit, and was now dressed a bit more casually. He looked good.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, Edward. Thanks for waiting. The party ran a bit long, although open houses often do." She took the chair next to him, and motioned for a server.

"Have you been waiting too terribly long?"

Edward sat back down as Cami took her seat. He did know how to behave as if he had manners when it suited him.

"A while, but I've had some excellent drinks to keep me company, and good news from Thomas to think about."

He smile softly. "Any good news from the Open House?"

Originally posted by Texan Hotrodders
Edward sat back down as Cami took her seat. He did know how to behave as if he had manners when it suited him.

"A while, but I've had some excellent drinks to keep me company, and good news from Thomas to think about."

He smile softly. "Any good news from the Open House?"


Cami grinned at Edward's question. "Well, Jack Riley didn't make a repeat appearance. I suppose that's good news?"

She paid the server as her drink arrived, a Wiki Brandy, and took a sip before continuing, "Good news from Thomas? What's that about?"

Cami grinned at Edward's question. "Well, Jack Riley didn't make a repeat appearance. I suppose that's good news?"

She paid the server as her drink arrived, a Wiki Brandy, and took a sip before continuing, "Good news from Thomas? What's that about?"

"Ah...Jack. Interesting fellow. Good thing Sammy got to him before he could cause too much trouble." He flashed her a wry grin.

"Anyway, Thomas is getting married again. This will be his fourth wife, a nice girl from Engineton, apparently."

Cami shook her head slightly, then smiled at Edward. "Please, send him my regards and best wishes. It's not in our culture to have multiple spouses, and quite frankly, it boggles my mind to think of having more than one, let alone four!"

She knew from his dossier that Edward was single, but he didn't know she knew that. Cami decided to have a little fun.

Turning to look at him suddenly, as if the thought had just come to her, she asked, "Edward? Are you married too?"

Dr. Amin al-Satal, of the Allech-Atreus delegation, entered the bar and took a seat at the bar. He waved Neville over and ordered an orange juice- alcoholic drinks were verboten for him.

He sighed and smiled a bit. He had enjoyed the Drae Nei office party immensely, the discussions he had with other delegates had been pleasing and fun for him. He was contemplating the possibility of the Imperial legation holding their own once the office renovations were completed.

In fact, he was quite surprised at himself for even considering the thought. He'd never been one to enjoy parties, but that was probably because his only experiences were with the tribal horsemen on his native planet or the drunken students of the Imperial University.

He smiled, though, and began running plans in his head. He may be an economist, and a dry, boring one at that, but he could still engage in fantasy.

Yukiko glanced over at the latest visitor who certainly looked interesting.

She looked at him and flashed him a smile. She was young and needed company and he might need some as well.

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a354/nihongaz/Yukiko.jpg

Cami shook her head slightly, then smiled at Edward. "Please, send him my regards and best wishes. It's not in our culture to have multiple spouses, and quite frankly, it boggles my mind to think of having more than one, let alone four!"

She knew from his dossier that Edward was single, but he didn't know she knew that. Cami decided to have a little fun.

Turning to look at him suddenly, as if the thought had just come to her, she asked, "Edward? Are you married too?"

Edward blinked a few times.

"Me? Married? Well no. I can't seem to entice a woman to stay around me for longer than a few months," he added, and chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"Maybe I'm not husbandly enough," he wondered aloud.

Originally posted by Texan Hotrodders
"Me? Married? Well no. I can't seem to entice a woman to stay around me for longer than a few months," he added, and chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"Maybe I'm not husbandly enough," he wondered aloud.


Cami laughed light heartedly at Edward's comment.

"Perhaps you aren't, or perhaps...you just haven't met the right woman."

She realized almost immediately how flirtatious her remark sounded, and immediately changed course.

"So what do you like to do, when official duties aren't occupying your time?"

Cami laughed light heartedly at Edward's comment.

"Perhaps you aren't, or perhaps...you just haven't met the right woman."

She realized almost immediately how flirtatious her remark sounded, and immediately changed course.

"So what do you like to do, when official duties aren't occupying your time?"

Edward raised an eyebrow at her comment, and then answered the question.

"I like to drive a long way, to somewhere I've never been before, and wander around. I like to see new things and eat new foods and play new sports. Essentially, I like to try everything. And when I'm finished wandering around, I come back home and relax and enjoy simple things, the familiar routines of my martial arts training and normal food and work and sleep."

He looked her directly in the eyes. "Are those things that interest you too?"

Originally posted by Texan Hotrodders
Edward raised an eyebrow at her comment, and then answered the question.

"I like to drive a long way, to somewhere I've never been before, and wander around. I like to see new things and eat new foods and play new sports. Essentially, I like to try everything. And when I'm finished wandering around, I come back home and relax and enjoy simple things, the familiar routines of my martial arts training and normal food and work and sleep."

He looked her directly in the eyes. "Are those things that interest you too?"


Edward's gaze seemed to peer into her soul, as if trying to ascertain if she was a kindred spirit. He had touched on exactly the way she felt, especially since Matthew died.

"Yes, Edward, they are," she said softly. "Not necessarily driving for me, but going anywhere, whether it's by car, or by plane, or just going for a good long run, in a new place."

She was pensive for a moment, then spoke again.

"It's not like I am trying to run away, from something, but it's more like I am running towards something. New places, new people, new experiences. Yet coming home, wherever home is at the time, gives me time to reflect on what I've seen and learned, amidst familiar surroundings."

Realizing she had become quite serious, she smiled at him and added, "Sounds like we are both explorers. Perhaps most international delegates are..."

Edward nodded at Cami. "I think you're right. We are explorers. I think most of us here are looking for as much of the truth as we can find. And what's more, as much truth as we can share with the world and the people we love. In a very strange way, it's almost...romantic."

He smiled wryly, and took another drink since he was obviously much too sober by this point, given the nature of the discussion.

He was right, she realized. In an odd way, it was romantic. Seeking truth to share with the people you love...she liked the way he had put it.

"Edward, I do believe there is a bit of the poet, and a bit of the philosopher in you!"

She took a sip of her brandy, then continued. "I like the way you described that, Edward. And you're right. In an odd way, it is romantic!"

Knowing this time she was intentionally flirting with him, she raised her glass for a toast, and smiled.

"Here's to us romantics!"

He was right, she realized. In an odd way, it was romantic. Seeking truth to share with the people you love...she liked the way he had put it.

"Edward, I do believe there is a bit of the poet, and a bit of the philosopher in you!"

She took a sip of her brandy, then continued. "I like the way you described that, Edward. And you're right. In an odd way, it is romantic!"

Knowing this time she was intentionally flirting with him, she raised her glass for a toast, and smiled.

"Here's to us romantics!"

"I'll certainly drink to that," he said, raising his glass alongside hers.

"Actually, I'll drink to almost anything, but that's another story. And maybe I do have a bit of a bit of the poet and philosopher in me. We all have our flaws, after all." He winked and drained the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"You know Cami, I think it's about time for some food. Shall we discuss dinner plans?"

Cami couldn't help but grin at him for a minute before answering. Men, always thinking about food! Well, no that's not really true, now is it...there are other things...

"Edward," she said teasingly, "are you hungry now? It's almost midnight, and I'm still fine with what I had at the party."

She took a sip of her brandy, her eyes filled with merriment as she looked at him.

"We do need to discuss a day, place and time for our dinner date, but if there is something you want right now, go ahead and get it!"

For the first time in a long time, Camryn Langdon was sitting in a secluded spot, openly flirting with an intelligent, very handsome man. And, she was enjoying it.

Vladimir Khernynko walks into the strangers bar. Furious, more furious than usual.

He walks up to the bar and orders a bottle of vodka and a shot glass.

He takes a shot of vodka and sits on the stool at the bar not taking his usual seat at the back of the bar.

"I fail to see what they are all railing about in that argument against repealing the FSA. Have all the persons that I thought would be the ones to agree with me become mad? Seriously, the UN has no business legislating morality." He thought and took an other shot. Perhaps he will find someone in the bar that wasn't totally insane today. It seems that he keeps running into crazies. Indeed it was a strange day...He actually agreed with the Ambassador from Community Property on something...even if it was that disgusting bit of poop for a resolution that was being voted on.

Al-Satal took a sip of his orange juice, then looked over at the stymied Stalinist from Ellelt.

"My advice to you is not to let it bother you. Opinions change faster than running water here."

"Well, at least they change. I think they change more often than some people change their undercloths." Khernyko said taking an other shot of vodka.

"What the hell...time for a good drunk."

Jevo Telovar stumbles back into the Strangers' Bar with an immense metallic entity of some sort following him. It appears to be cautiously avoiding stepping on anything.

"I can't believe that the Chief sent you to the United Nations."

"WHAT IS THE UNITED NATIONS?"

"An organization that pretends to get things done, but internationally."

"I UNDERSTAND. IT IS LIKE HOW YOU CLAIM TO BE WORKING, BUT YOU ARE DRINKING ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES ALL DAY."

"I need one now." Jevo makes his way toward the Ellelt and Allech-Atreus diplomats, who appear to be having a lively conversation on the subject of his desire. The metallic hulk follows silently, or at least, without speaking. The shaking ground is evidence of his motion.

"Hello, there. Jevo Telovar, Republic of Krioval," he says, extending a hand.

"HELLO. COLOSSUS, REPUBLIC OF KRIOVAL." The Colossus also extends a hand, but it is about two-and-a-half meters above the ground. "WHAT IS A REPUBLIC?"

"Hey." slurred a very drunk Khernynko. Vladimir noticed the colossus thingy.

"Um, what is that?" he said to the Krovialan representative.

Vladimir Khernynko walks into the strangers bar. Furious, more furious than usual.

He walks up to the bar and orders a bottle of vodka and a shot glass.

He takes a shot of vodka and sits on the stool at the bar not taking his usual seat at the back of the bar.

"I fail to see what they are all railing about in that argument against repealing the FSA. Have all the persons that I thought would be the ones to agree with me become mad? Seriously, the UN has no business legislating morality." He thought and took an other shot. Perhaps he will find someone in the bar that wasn't totally insane today. It seems that he keeps running into crazies. Indeed it was a strange day...He actually agreed with the Ambassador from Community Property on something...even if it was that disgusting bit of poop for a resolution that was being voted on.Ambassador Jackson strides into the bar, preens in a mirror bearing the “Old Frothingslosh” logo, sees the Elleltian Ambassador at the bar, smiles wickedly, and comes up behind him.

Slapping him heartily on the back, he says, “Hey, Vladdy Baby? What's happenin'? What you drinkin' there, everclear? ... <chuckles>. ... I'll take a Jack Daniels, on the rocks, Neville ... thanks, my man!” Whipping out a wooden cigarette case, he pops one out and offers it to Vladmir Khernynko. “You wanna smoke, Vladdy?”

With satisfaction he notes the Elleltian diplomat's horror. “Oh, well, your loss,” he says with a smile, and with the same hand claps the wooden cigarette case shut, snaps out a blue tip, strikes it, lights his cigarette, and flips the match into a nearby ashtray - all in one fluid motion. As the wooden case goes back into the pocket, he continues: “Say, I noticed that folks were all over you about your support for the FSA. Guess it's hard when y'hafta deport a few million brothers to Ziberia - or whatever you call that icebox o' yours - to knock a lil' discipline into the prolies – after all, people are always backslidin' from the true path.” Jackson blows a nice cloud of smoke Vladimir's way and continues. “Yeah, mus.t be a cast iron bitch to hafta remind people why they should share the land and love each other, y'know? Thank God we don't have that problem.” He leans back against the bar in such a way as to expose half his chest to passers-by, thanks to the three open buttons at the top of his shirt, and visibly undresses a shapely female delegate from some random Member nation before continuing.

“Yeah, it's a drag to have everyone against you. Real bummer, y'know what I mean?” Jackson smiles unctuously and continues. “I bet you're happy to not have that problem with that piece-o'-shit EPA we're votin' on now. Not that there's anything wrong with environmental protection – I mean, we gotta do somethin' 'fore industrialization nuts bulldoze millions o' square miles o' pine-covered tundra to make way for Goo-lags and tractor factories and whatnot – but still, his sucker's got more holes that a Cluichistani call girl,” he sniggers crudely, “Or at least ones that creative people can go to town with, if y'know what I mean.”

“So,” the Ambassador says with another giant exhalation of tobacco smoke. “I heard you folks through a pad-warming party. Tell me, did anybody come?” He smiles wickedly after this last question.

OOC: Just raising the diplomatic temperature. You've already put us on your agitprop list, but we may not be Number #1.

Not yet, anyway. But we're working on it.

"Excuse me, Sir, but what are you rambling on about. And could you at least not blow that garbage in my face before I throttle you. As for the deportations to Ziberia, I would love to send you there as well. It would knock some sense into your trotskyite head. And I am not your baby. As for the Office warming Party, we had a few guests, they were quite interested in our beautiful and productive country."

Vladimir finished off his liter of vodka and was obviously totally pissed.

Ambassador Jackson smiles, leans back, and exhales his next cloud toward the ceiling – not quite a concession, but not an open affront. He then looks at Khernynko coolly and says, “My, my, my! The devotchkas (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nadsat) got their legs frozen shut these days?” Jackson shakes his head. “Must be tough. But with warm hands, y'know,” he says, flexing his fingers, “And real warm fingers, I bet you could thaw 'em out, but good!”

“Neville,” he says, knocking back his bourbon, “Another Jack, please.”

Vladimir pulls out his snuff box. Since he had been feeling under the weather for the past week he had switched from his regular apricot scented snuff to one that was mentho-lyptus. He felt his sinuses clear as soon as the strongly scented medicinal tobacco product entered his right and then left nostrils.

"I still am not sure what you are talking about. I have no problem getting a devotchka should I require one. Being a powerful member of the Party I have them throwing themselves at me. Not that I would be interested anyway, I am far too busy for such non-sense as they would no doubt want to chatter away at me about shoes or some other subject of little to no importance to anyone outside of gosplan." He said.

"Neville, An other bottle of Stoli"

Al-Satal chuckled quietly, listening to the exchange between the two ambassadors. He never thought he'd see a communist outside of Vardacia, and he never though he'd see two of them arguing.

"How cold is it in Ziberia, Mr. Khernynko? Very interesting snuff, by the way. It's all the rage with the Osmanan royalty right now- they spend millions on the stuff, and thousands upon thousands on ornate little snuffboxes. Amazing, really."

Quynn Olver listens to the exchange between Ambassador Jackson and Vladimir. He chuckles to himself, then goes to the jukebox, plugs in a coin and plays Joe Stalin's Cadillac by Camper Van Beethoven.

"Well Ziberia can be quite cold by our standards in winter. In Koliyma where there is a large gold deposit we have a gulag and the labor from the gulag is used to mine the gold. The mercury is known to dip as low as -62 degrees centigrade. Although thats extreme even by Ziberian standards.

"As far as snuff goes, it seems interesting that royalty would consider it worthy of their consumption. In Ellelt all the Tsars and Aristocrats and Capitalist pig-dogs before the revolution either smoked cigarettes, pipes or cigars. Snuff and also a oral product called dip and chewing tobacco were considered beneath them. Snuff is more popular with mine workers and city workers, dip and chewing tobacco with the peasantry. In the days before the revolution when only the rich and aristocrats had indoor plumbing the city people would use snuff so they would not have to smell the filth that used to run openly in the street.

"Snuff boxes can be ornate yes. Comrade Serpov has one that was given him for his birthday last year that was 24k gold. Rather ornate, but he never uses it. He uses the plain aluminum ones like I and Comrade Petrovich do. Although we do produce on a small scale very ornate snuffboxes, some would consider them to be art."

Delren Meleketh (http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r56/smurfie_bucket/delren.jpg) walked up to the bar with a quick stride. I almost feel bad about leaving Jaris and Jinella stuck in that interminable debate about forests....almost, he thought as he sat down. "Neville, let me get an Eagle's Backbone Ale, please."

"Well Ziberia can be quite cold by our standards in winter. In Koliyma where there is a large gold deposit we have a gulag and the labor from the gulag is used to mine the gold. The mercury is known to dip as low as -62 degrees centigrade. Although thats extreme even by Ziberian standards.

"As far as snuff goes, it seems interesting that royalty would consider it worthy of their consumption. In Ellelt all the Tsars and Aristocrats and Capitalist pig-dogs before the revolution either smoked cigarettes, pipes or cigars. Snuff and also a oral product called dip and chewing tobacco were considered beneath them. Snuff is more popular with mine workers and city workers, dip and chewing tobacco with the peasantry. In the days before the revolution when only the rich and aristocrats had indoor plumbing the city people would use snuff so they would not have to smell the filth that used to run openly in the street.

"Snuff boxes can be ornate yes. Comrade Serpov has one that was given him for his birthday last year that was 24k gold. Rather ornate, but he never uses it. He uses the plain aluminum ones like I and Comrade Petrovich do. Although we do produce on a small scale very ornate snuffboxes, some would consider them to be art."

"Oh, really? 24k gold? And he is allowed to keep it? How very interesting. Oh yes, it really is quite popular among the Osmanan royalty- the Sultanshah has a box carved out of a huge emerald. Of course, it's not so popular among the other regional nobility. It's not even very popular among tribal Osmanan nobles, of which I am one."

When the large metal creature announced himself, Al-Satal turned around, and slowly looked up the ferric hulk to what he presumed to be the thing's face.

"By the gods... Avatar!" he sputtered, almost spilling his orange juice. Quickly regaining his composure, he whipped a small sketchpad from his robes and started drawing.

"Who-what- where are you from?"

"Yes Comrade Serpov is allowed to keep it, it is a personal item after all. Public ownership only applies to the means of production rather than produced goods. He couldn't own a snuffbox factory, but anyone who could afford to buy a gold snuffbox could own one. In his case it was given to him by the soviet that runs the snuffbox factory in Serpotzyn.

"However, as I said he prefers the plain aluminum ones like Demitri and I use. I suppose he is afraid of losing the gold one, plus it might also have sentimental value to him. He told me once that it was inscribed with a very personal, or personal to him, message but Ive never seen the inscription. Probably a thank you or something, he takes things like that very personally. He cried once when the Soviet Chairman of a town sent him a letter thanking him for mandating that plumbing be installed immediately in Zushtuk.

"I read that letter and didn't see what he got so emotional over. He was merely bringing needed progress to the working people. Doing his duty I would say. I don't know. He can be a little strange sometimes." Khernynko said taking a shot of vodka.

Yukiko had been ignored and it stuck in her craw.

Taking her glass of beer she did what Kirisuban's generally did. Went to the mountain if the mountain wouldn't come to them.

"Good evening gentlemen" she purred in unaccented english.

"Do you mind if I join you" as she addressed Mr Al-Satal and company

"I don't mind at all, I'm busy getting totally drunk though. Twenty trees being a forest indeed." Khernynko said.

W.E.B. Jackson tilts his head back and laughs. “'Not that I would be interested anyway, I am far too busy for such non-sense.' Don't that beat the band!” Chuckling, he continues. “Vladdy Boy – you don't mind if I call you 'Vladdy Boy', do ya? - you are one seriously up-tight motha- ... Nah, maybe I better hadn't call you that, 'cause you might not understand ... You're one up-tight ... cat if you ain't got time to get busy, lemme tell ya. The Worker's Paradise oughta be the Lover's Paradise, what with 'share and share alike' and all. Ours is like that, so why ain't yours?”

“But if you folks wanna sit up there on your steppes and drink yourselves blind with everclear, go ahead and do your own thing,” the Ambassador finishes. “I just can't imagine that kind of life bein' 'Paradise'.”

At that moment, Jelo Telovar arrives, Colossus in tow. As Dr. al-Satal jumps, Jackson takes one look at the metal giant and says: “Wait... wait... I know this ... Gort! Klaatu ... barada ... nikto!”

Then he laughs and says, “Damn, I always hoped I'd have a chance to say that someday!” Turning to Jevo, he switches his cigarette to his left hand, which still holds his half-empty Jack Daniels – and extends his right to the Kriovalan diplomat. “W.E.B. Cinque Huey Newton Liberation Mojo Ganja Mississipi Malcolm Moses Jackson, Ambassador to the United Nations from the People's Democratic Republic of Community Property, at your service. Are you from Krioval? I've heard a lot about you folks.”

Of course, he is polite enough not to say what he'd heard.

A moment later, Ambassador Jackson's demeanor changes abruptly as Yukiko enters their little coterie.

“Lorrrr-dy, Lordy. Look what we have here,” he says with a broad smile. He offered his hand – this time palm up, in a gallant gesture. “And what country on this great Earth produced such a fine pearl of beauty as you, madame?”

OOC: The careful observer might notice that Jackson “down-home” accent and diction has suddenly given way to a soft but deep and sonorous drawl...

Yukiko smiled and took a seat.

"getting drunk does help round here when the current debate is about useless tree counting" she replied introducing herself smoothing out her red and black kimono.

"Yukiko Uehara, the NSUN Ambassador from the Empire of Kirisubo"

http://i15.photobucket.com/albums/a354/nihongaz/Yukiko.jpg

"Moon-beam-love-child or whatever your name is, what the hell are you rambling on about. The Elleltian people 'get busy' all the time what with the population doubling every 18 years; I would say they are reproducing like rabbits. And no I would prefer it that you did not call me 'Vladdy-boy'. My name is Vladimir, nor are we on friendly enough terms for you to have a 'pet name' yet. Sheik Nadnerb bin Cluich can get away with it because of our country's strong military ties, and DEFCON associations.

"True we are not some hippie love fest like your nation. We find such a situation disgusting. Our people are a serious people, indeed with our climate to not be serious could be fatal. Ever seen anyone frozen to death? I have, during the revolution at the battle of Soren My Boris froze to death. My tears froze to my face it was that cold. We have plenty of reason to be 'up-tight' as you put it. Living in my country can be very difficult, having to endure very cold winters, and taming the land and all that."

Turning his back to discuss with the attractive Ambassador from Krisubo.

"Vladimir Khernynko, Ambassador from the United Socialist States of Ellelt. Pleased to meet you. Would you care for a drink?"

OOC: The guy at the bar is Dr. Amin al-Satal, not the Prince. He's a pince-nez wearing economic advisor.

IC:

Al-Satal blinked as the Kirisuban lady came over. This was too unusual for him! The soft comfort of GDPs and economic equilibiria had fled him, and now he felt naked and exposed, clutching a glass of orange juice. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed them on his silk sleeve.

Vladimir Khernynko was talking again, his words starting to slur due to his copious intake of vodka. Al-Satal wasn't sure what he was talking about, something about "rabbits," "Nadnerb bin Cluich," "reproducing" and "frozen to the face."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Uehara... or is it 'Uehara-san'? I'm trying to learn some of the foreign languages common here."

“Well, Kirisubo is most certainly blessed,” Jackson purrs, slipping into mojo mode. “And I agree completely that counting trees and saving trees are two different things.”

Consulting his mental notes, the Ambassador asks. “As I recall, Gatesville isn't a physical region – it's more like an association, right?” He smiles and then continues: “I ask because I'm wondering where Kirisubo is with relation to our region, the South Pacific.”

Jackson in action (http://www.skierka.de/imgbase/Jimi%20Hendrix%20Kopie.web.jpg)

“So who's my replacement?” McGee asked.

Tom paused for a beat “Jackson,” he answered at last.

“Jackson?!?” Charity exclaimed, turning heads. “'Low key'?!? Him?!?” She was indignant. “Not to mention,” she finished in a huff, “That he's a drunk and a womanizer.”

Tom looked around the Strangers' Bar in exaggerated fashion. “And your point?” he said at last.

OOC:OOC: The guy at the bar is Dr. Amin al-Satal, not the Prince. He's a pince-nez wearing economic advisor.Corrected.

Yukiko nodded and replied saying "Khernynko san, Domo Arigato. another beer would be nice.

We are a serious minded people as well but theres a place for work and a place for fun in everyones lives"

"Neville, get the lady whatever it is she asked for." Khernynko said.

He had finished his second liter of vodka already and also ordered an other bottle. He knew he would pay for it when Demitri came in and poured him onto the couch in the office, but that time had yet to come. He could just hear Comrade Olga screaming at him how he was ruining his liver and all that too. True the woman was a mother and very pregnant but she wasn't his mother, who would be if she were still alive, probably working right now in Steel Plant 528 because of the time differences.

Vladimir remembered the last argument he had with his mother. Trying to get her to retire from working in the forge, but she had dismissed her youngest son saying to him that retirement would kill her, she needed to work regardless of her age, it was what gave her life meaning now that her children were all either dead or away in New Stalingrad working in the Krimlin or at the UN. He missed her terribly it was only six months since he had to cremate her, as was the common Elleltian Funeral custom.

He couldn't believe that he had brought up Boris with that philistine from Community Property either. After Boris had died, so had the emotion of love died with him. Vladimir had nobody and needed nobody. He had grown accustomed to being alone, the sole survivor of his family in the glorious unfolding future of his country. Indeed the only thing that he, Vladimir Khernynko, needed was the Party.

Yukiko nodded her head as she sipped at her old beer.

Turning to Ambassador Jackson she replied "Kirisubo is actually east of Japan. We are also part of the Gatesville Sovereign Protectorate as you have rightly guessed."

also turning to the Ambassador from Allech-Altreus she replied smiling "either form of address is acceptable since 'san' applies as much to women as to men"

"Hey." slurred a very drunk Khernynko. Vladimir noticed the colossus thingy.

"Um, what is that?" he said to the Krovialan representative.

When the large metal creature announced himself, Al-Satal turned around, and slowly looked up the ferric hulk to what he presumed to be the thing's face.

"By the gods... Avatar!" he sputtered, almost spilling his orange juice. Quickly regaining his composure, he whipped a small sketchpad from his robes and started drawing.

"Who-what- where are you from?"

Jevo looked horrified, prescience being what it was. But The Colossus seemed to give no indication of discomfort. "I AM THE COLOSSUS. I WAS FORGED BY THE DEMON LORD SOLOKARO, WHO CREATED HUMAN LIFE IN KRIOVAL. I WAS CREATED APPROXIMATELY SIX-POINT-SEVEN-THREE-NINE BILLION YEARS AGO. OF MY KIND, I AM QUITE YOUNG. The table shook lightly as something akin to chuckling came from the behemoth. Jevo had, by this time, located his secret flask and had drained the contents. "YOU DRINK TOO MUCH, LORD TELOVAR. THIS IS WHY YOU WILL FIND DIFFICULTY IN FINDING A MARRIAGE PARTNER," the Colossus admonished.

"In short," Jevo gasped, "we don't exactly know where he is from, or what exactly he is. I mean, the Chief claims to know, but I'm not one for believing in demons and stuff. Anyway, Solokaro is a Kriovalian God, not a demon lord." He seemed slightly less than convinced despite his tone.

At that moment, Jelo Telovar arrives, Colossus in tow. As Prince Tang jumps, Jackson takes one look at the metal giant and says: “Wait... wait... I know this ... Gort! Klaatu ... barada ... nikto!”

Then he laughs and says, “Damn, I always hoped I'd have a chance to say that someday!”

"YOU ARE INCORRECT, YOUR EXCELLENCY. MY RECOLLECTION INDICATES THAT OF THE PAST SIX-POINT-SEVEN-THREE-NINE BILLION YEARS, YOUR DESIRE HAS EXTENDED ONLY INTO THE EXTREMELY RECENT PAST."

Stew enters and heads to the bar, sparing a glance and raised eyebrow for the rather large, metal entity, I need a drink first... "Neville... Give me a mug of Black Pearl Grog, please."

Neville hands Stew the mug of dark, thick rum. Taking a sip, Stew sighs, and turns to the others, "Good evening... May I ask what the topic of discussion is here today? Please don't tell me it's some proposal to protect flowers that are grouped in twenties..."

Yukiko replied chuckling to the newcomer "Its trees thats the topic of discussion but flowers aren't on the agenda unless you're offering me some".

Blushing slightly at the ladies comment, Stew sips his grog, before extending his hand, "Grand Utoy Michael Stewey- Sovereign Ruler of the Dominion of Steweystan... though you can call me Stew. Trees, eh? In general, I think that rather than saying, 'You're going to be forced to protect this many trees,' there should be proper discussion about offering incentives to Nations to change the way they handle their environment- and to come up with more environmentally sound methods of using and renewing such resources."

Stew takes another sip, before turning to the rather large behemoth, "Are you from Oz?"

"Stewey san, Miss Yukiko Uehara, Empire of Kirisubo" she replied "and that is the best way rather than start a micromanaging tree counting exercise"

Jevo looked horrified, prescience being what it was. But The Colossus seemed to give no indication of discomfort. "I AM THE COLOSSUS. I WAS FORGED BY THE DEMON LORD SOLOKARO, WHO CREATED HUMAN LIFE IN KRIOVAL. I WAS CREATED APPROXIMATELY SIX-POINT-SEVEN-THREE-NINE BILLION YEARS AGO. OF MY KIND, I AM QUITE YOUNG. The table shook lightly as something akin to chuckling came from the behemoth. Jevo had, by this time, located his secret flask and had drained the contents. "YOU DRINK TOO MUCH, LORD TELOVAR. THIS IS WHY YOU WILL FIND DIFFICULTY IN FINDING A MARRIAGE PARTNER," the Colossus admonished.

"In short," Jevo gasped, "we don't exactly know where he is from, or what exactly he is. I mean, the Chief claims to know, but I'm not one for believing in demons and stuff. Anyway, Solokaro is a Kriovalian God, not a demon lord." He seemed slightly less than convinced despite his tone.



"YOU ARE INCORRECT, YOUR EXCELLENCY. MY RECOLLECTION INDICATES THAT OF THE PAST SIX-POINT-SEVEN-THREE-NINE BILLION YEARS, YOUR DESIRE HAS EXTENDED ONLY INTO THE EXTREMELY RECENT PAST."

Once more, Al-Satal took off his pince-nez and polished them furiously.

"More of your kind? Fascinating, absolutely fascinating! You are older even than our Empire! Six billion years, by the Emperor!"

He began writing names down. "Solokaro... Six point seven three nine billion years... demon lord/god..." he said to himself as he wrote. He looked up at the metal monster, squinting with scientific scrutiny.

"What are you made from? Metal alloy? Silver? Something of that sort? How were you built? Why were you built?" He spewed out questions, had Selvia Mannuschrat been there she would have laughed and said he sounded like Wolgang 013.

"Miss Uehara, a pleasure to meet you." Stew gives a polite bow and smile. "Yes, well, I do have the occaisonal good though on things from time to time. Hehehe" He sips a bit more of the Grog, he continues, "How are you enjoying the UN so far?"

Her attention still on Stew she replied with a smile on her face.

"so far its been quite eventful with our old ambassador being promoted to the Imperial bodyguard and the deputy ambassador off looking after her twins.

I'm enjoying it a lot"

Once more, Al-Satal took off his pince-nez and polished them furiously.

"More of your kind? Fascinating, absolutely fascinating! You are older even than our Empire! Six billion years, by the Emperor!"

He began writing names down. "Solokaro... Six point seven three nine billion years... demon lord/god..." he said to himself as he wrote. He looked up at the metal monster, squinting with scientific scrutiny.

"What are you made from? Metal alloy? Silver? Something of that sort? How were you built? Why were you built?" He spewed out questions, had Selvia Mannuschrat been there she would have laughed and said he sounded like Wolgang 013.

Living for as long as he had, the Colossus had learned the art of patience. "MY COMPOSITION IS UNCLEAR TO ME. I WAS CREATED IN TELEKAIOS TOVOKAN. His red eyes dimmed briefly. "I BELIEVE YOU WOULD CALL IT THE 'GREAT SOULFORGE.' IT IS WHERE WE ARE CREATED, AND TO WHERE WE ARE RECALLED. I AM TASKED WITH RECALLING SPIRITS WHOSE UTILITY IS NO LONGER OPTIMAL."

Stew takes another sip, before turning to the rather large behemoth, "Are you from Oz?"

"I DO NOT BELIEVE SO. IN WHICH GALAXY WOULD THAT BE?"

Living for as long as he had, the Colossus had learned the art of patience. "MY COMPOSITION IS UNCLEAR TO ME. I WAS CREATED IN TELEKAIOS TOVOKAN. His red eyes dimmed briefly. "I BELIEVE YOU WOULD CALL IT THE 'GREAT SOULFORGE.' IT IS WHERE WE ARE CREATED, AND TO WHERE WE ARE RECALLED. I AM TASKED WITH RECALLING SPIRITS WHOSE UTILITY IS NO LONGER OPTIMAL."

Al-Satal stifled a gasp and dropped his pencil.

"Sulbein Keraiman... Forger of Souls..." he muttered to himself.

Al-Satal had been a practitioner of Sulbein Osmanaran, the religion of Osmana, all his life, though not always as devout as he was supposed. He had been taught that Sulbein Barhen, the Earth God, had given visions to the ancient Osmanan prophets and instructed them in the ways of the heavens and earth. The gods and goddesses ran the great machinery of the afterlife, the wheel to which all souls returned... the Keraiman Kvat. Foremost among the gods of the Kvat was Sulbein Keraiman, He Who Forges the Souls. The prophets had spoken of Keraiman and his servants, shining angels who plied the aether in search of wayward souls... Avatars of the God.

Lord Telovar could not have any idea what was running through the head of the poor economist before him, who was currently having what amounted to a religious expereince. What manner of strange coincedence had brought Colossus here, what manner of unusual connection reduced Al-Satal to a faithful stutter, could only be hinted at.

The desert leader dropped to his knees and touched his forehead to the ground in front of the Kriovalian golem, his glass of orange juice spilling onto the floor.

Vladimir checked his watch. Strange it was this late and he knew that Demitri knew where he was and what he was doing but his secretary had not come to rescue himself from himself as was per usual. He took a bit of snuff.

"Neville, can I have a menu? It appears that my secretary will not be comming to pour me onto the couch today. And I will need to eat if I ever hope to be able to walk to the lifts. I know I will be far to drunk to drive home so its another night of sleeping it off at the office."

“Hey, Gort...” says Ambassador Jackson to the Colossus. “Looks like you've got yourself a groupie.”