An Exercise in Tolerance

[Imogen Rhysode]

A disgusted grimace turned into a wide, mischievous smile.
''Whip something up? I had no idea you like whipping, agent Akasha. You should have told me, so I would have brought my collection of toys.'' she said, her smile now turning into a grin that showed her pearl white teeth. Her joke worked; some sick part of her enjoyed seeing him all upset and worried about his epic attempt of a dinner failing, but the truth was - Imogen thought he was far too obsessed with details. She was not here for the food or the wine even, but to talk to him, befriend him, be near him. Everything else was irrelevant.

''I'm joking, Elias. I love meat.'' the Echani voiced, idly fiddling under the edge of the plate in the search of cutlery. A fork was jabbed into the tender meat and a small piece was chopped off only to be transferred into Imogen's mouth. She chewed on it shortly, with no visible reaction on her visage. All to keep the agent in suspense even longer.

''Delicious.'' the fair-haired woman stated, licking her lips and reaching for another bit with her fork, offering Elias a small kindhearted wink.

[Elias Akasha]

Elias could tell when he was being played; unfortunately, that insight did nothing to prevent the wave of embarassment that flushed through him. The connotations of Imogen's throw away remark weren't lost on him either, and just catalysed the sensation. He wished for a moment that he was safely contained within the expressionless mask of the Imperial Guard uniform that he'd been forced to leave behind on Imperial Center. As if in tribute, his cheeks made a half-hearted effort to recolour themselves to the same shade of crimson.

Deciding that silence was perhaps the best response for now, Elias hid himself behind a mouthful of the pseudo-nerf and the rim of his wine glass, fighting the urge to tug at the collar of his shirt and vent some of the heat that had risen to his face. Imogen would love that; love seeing a visible sign that she had him rattled; unsettled. Regardless of everything else that transpired this evening, that was one victory he planned on denying her.

"So," he said finally, setting his mind to sparking some appropriate mealtime conversation. "How does an Echani find herself embroilled in the security forces on Corellia? Is there an ancestor whose footsteps you're following in, or was it a path you came to on your own?"

[Imogen Rhysode]

''Whaaat? Nothing?!?'' she questioned herself mentally, disappointed she did not manage to squeeze a reaction out of him.
''Get over it, Rhysode. He's used to far greater nuisances than yourself.'' the silver haired female thought then smiled again, just to convince him that his lack of fuss did not upset her one bit. A lofty brow was lifted when Akasha displayed genuine interest in her family. Perhaps now was the best time to signify the hypocrisy of the Imperial regime and their anti-alien tendencies.

''My family moved to Corellia several years before the Clone Wars. Both my grandfather and father got a job with CorSec. However, I was born on Thyrsus, my ancestors were Sun Guards there. That's where the Imperial Guards got their armour from; the Echani. Also, probably all martial art you know is Echani too. So in a sense you're more Echani than I am.'' she explained between bites and a few small sips of wine - ''I just have that defective DNA Imperial biologists deem unworthy of procreation.'' Imogen concluded sourly, pursing her lips.

''But they hardly managed to stop me from even trying.'' she added with an adulterous undertone and glanced over to Akasha over her glass, tongue licking the rim to collect a sole dab of wine that lingered there.

[Elias Akasha]

How could anyone with eyes deem you unworthy of procreation? Elias wondered, but kept that particular thought to himself.

All manner of rumours circulated around the Imperial Palace concerning the origins of the Imperial Guards, but if anyone knew the true facts they had apparently chosen to keep them a closely guarded secret to preserve the air of myth and mystery that surrounded the fearsome private guards that were now sworn to defend the Empress. Some speculated that the original guards who had protected Palpatine during the Clone Wars were Mandolorian, citing similarities between the armour worn by their Supercommandos millennia before; those individuals were, it seemed, incorrect. Elias made sure to stow that information away for later use, should an opportune moment to make use of it arise.

The seductive tease in Rhysode's voice cut through his thoughts, and stalled his mind entirely, and brought back a new permutation on the discomfort he'd felt earlier, though this time he doubted the rising warmth that prickled at his skin was the result of embarassment.

He fell back on a tried and tested technique for such situations that had been employed by human males for centuries. "If I didn't know any better," he deflected, retreating behind a shield of humour; he snared the bottle from between them, and refilled the glass that Imogen had already drained. "I'd say you were flirting with me, Commander Rhysode."

[Imogen Rhysode]

Rhysode watched him refill her glass. The yellow-golden liquid sparkled in the faint light, waiting to be consumed. A skilled sommelier could utter glorious verbal escapades to describe the fireworks of taste it caused upon contact with Imogen's palate and tongue, the wine being as drinkable and easy-going as it was potent. And probably expensive.

''If I didn't know any better,'' she began, choosing to rephrase his words rather than answer his question - ''I'd say you are trying to get me drunk, Agent Akasha."

Her hand reached for the glass and she downed almost half of it whilst setting the fork down on the plate, indicating she was done eating.

[Elias Akasha]

Elias downed the last of his wine, necessitating a refill of his own glass. He raised it back towards his lips, a mischevious twinkle in his eyes. "That wouldn't be very gentlemanly of me now, would it?"

His eyes didn't break contact with hers for a moment. He felt his heart rate quicken in his chest, and forced another calming sip of alcohol past his lips. Whether it was the heat of the Serennoan weather, an affect of the alcohol, or a result of Imogen's intoxicating presence, Elias could feel sense and reason beginning to falter in his mind. His eyes fell away as he searched his mind for some perspective; surely he was mature enough and adult enough not to be so enamoured with a little harmless flirting and female company; or had it really been so long that he couldn't manage to think straight anymore?

Even as he passed one last forkload of food from his plate to mouth, he couldn't help the steady climb of his gaze back towards Imogen's eyes. Finding them still aimed at his direction, he bit back on as much of the tangle of thoughts that had enveloped his mind, and offered her a smile, setting his own fork down in surrender to the ample portions that gramma's recipes always yielded.

Hands feeling idle and empty, he filled one of them with the wine glass again. "Besides," he continued, picking up his earlier train of thought, "What could I possibly hope to gain from such an underhanded act?"

[Imogen Rhysode]

''Perhaps put me on one of your shelves as a trophy. A souvenir from Serenno.'' she mused, wallowing in sarcasm. Imogen had worked with men her entire life; by the time she was employed on Serenno, the Echani knew most men never had honest intentions. The mechanisms that propelled them to act in the way they did were under the strict dictate of hormones and dominance innate to his gender. However, the pleasure of conquering was not something unfamiliar to the commander and a part of their psyche she could understand and relate to. Working at CorSec made her an adrenaline junkie dependant on sensations closely connected with the concept of conquest as such.

''I'm afraid that being a gentleman has very little to do with indulging in the pleasures of the flesh - as a matter of fact, I find this quite natural and necessary from time to time. The difference between bastard and gentleman lies within a simple fact; whether the man will or will not be there when the woman wakes.'' Imogen explained boldly, clasping the rim of the glass between her lips to take another sip. Her eyes rested on him ever still.

''What's for dessert, agent Akasha?'' she asked with overt curiosity and a placid smile.

[Elias Akasha]

Natural and necessary? That was certainly an enticing philosophy. He couldn't help but feel the sting of her critique however; he'd always been the type to escape while his various female liaisons were still asleep. It wasn't - or at least he hoped it wasn't - an indication of a bastard nature as Imogen hoped; more a fear of the awkwardness that was bound to ensue the morning after. That age old fear tugged at him now; he realised that if anything were to happen, he'd find himself trapped in his own quarters with no easy way to escape and, large a place as the Demici estate was, the odds of him being able to evade her in the days that followed was fairly minimal.

Grabbing at the mostly empty plates, Elias retreated to the kitchen. Retrieving the desert from the fridge, he stalled for as much time as he could, hoping to clear his head and gain a little perspective. A bad idea, Elias decided; and yet he still couldn't peel his thoughts away; couldn't quell the urges swimming about in his head. Desert though would, hopefully, provide some sort of distraction.

"Let me guess," he said, finally returning to the table with two delicate glass bowls, a meringue crust topped with a thick and indulgent cream, and sprinkled with generous slices of plump and juicy berries freshly picked from the Demici's kitchen garden. A few of berries remained intact, poised as decoration around the edge of the bowl. He regarded Imogen with a smile as he settled back down in his seat. "You're allergic to one of the ingredients?"

[Imogen Rhysode]

When Elias went to the kitchen, Imogen's mind engaged into a brief monologue, using his absence to gather all of her impressions and process them.
''He's nervous. You cornered him, you and your big and fowl mouth... Remember, Imogen. Show him some Imperial hospitality, like the one you received when your subordinate was promoted instead of yourself. He might like you now, in the privacy of his quarters, but he would denounce you in front of his Empress. You're not one of his flock, Imogen.''

Her thoughts were partially betrayed on her face when it acquired a worried look that was immediately replaced with a smile when he returned with the dessert. Curiously peering into the bowl, Imogen admired the garnishing. The effort he put in all of this, especially on such a short notice, surprised her greatly; she had not received so much attention since...

''I can never be allergic to sweets. One of two things I'm addicted to.'' she said, chasing her previous thoughts away and scooped out some cream with her fingertip. She brought it closer to her mouth and enveloped the finger with her lips, gently sucking on it, her eyes half-closed.
''Mmmm, delicious...'' she murmured, finger still trailing over her lips.

[Elias Akasha]

Either the Serenno sun had just gone nova and flooded the atmosphere with enough radiation to up the temperature a good few degrees, or Elias' efforts to keep his mind away from a certain subject were failing miserably. Though the former option came with all manner of apocalyptic conotations, he wasn't entirely sure that it was the least favourable of the two options.

Elias picked at the dessert with his spoon, but found his apetite somewhat disrupted by angry flock of small winged creatures swarming around in the pit of his stomach. He made a few token attempts to drop food down his gullet in the hopes of hitting some of them mid-flight, but they didn't seem peterbed by his efforts. His brain danced frantically, searching for a way of steering the dinner away from where his imagination had already managed to arrive.

Breaking off a chunk of cream-soaked meringue, his spoon faltered before his mouth. "One of two things?" he enquired casually.

[Imogen Rhysode]

Imogen was playful, but not cruel. Seeing him struggle with his own hormones was fun to watch to a certain extent, but she did not want him to flip completely. With her ego being fed by his reaction to her gesture, the commander ceased to play with him, for the sake of communicating as adults rather than teenagers in heat.

''Children.'' the silver-haired female stated, her features brightening as she smiled.
''I absolutely adore children. From when I was a small girl, I wanted to have a large family. Three, four children at least. I guess I missed company back then, given the fact I was the only child. But yes - there is no greater joy for me then kids.'' she continued, an earnest look in her metallic irises. Residual sadness lingered in those luminescent orbs, as if there was some part of her story she was not telling him. It was too intimate to talk about with anybody; not even Rhysode's parents knew she was with child when Degor was killed. Imogen looked away, eyes falling to the desert. A few spoons were consumed in complete silence that commenced between the two, giving time for her words to sink in.

''But a girl can have her dreams, right?'' she asked rhetorically, stuffing another spoonful in her mouth - ''What about you?'' Imogen added, leaving the question with an open end to let him talk about himself and take the conversation in a direction that felt more comfortable for him.

[Elias Akasha]

Children. Elias paled a little at the thought. Since his mother had died, his relationship with his father had grown even more strained than ever. They had hardly been close before, with their encounters frequently becoming heated - particularly when Elias had become old enough and cocky enough to actually argue back against his father - but fortunately, service in the Imperial Navy had kept his father away from home for most of his childhood. His grandmother - his mother too - had hoped that one day he'd settle down and start a family; Elias' sister too, who had been pestering him incessantly to find out when she'd have a niece or nephew, ever since she realised she wouldn't be getting a younger brother or sister any time soon. But Elias had always been afraid - maybe it was the same root fear that forced him to flee whenever things became too serious with the women he encountered - of following in his father's footsteps; of being the terrible father that he percieved him to be. 'Like father, like son' was an addage
across the galaxy; was it an inescapable fate?

"My grandmother would have liked you," he responded with a glimmer of a smile, though the expression didn't manage to blank out the slight sadness that had gripped his eyes as his mind recalled his childhood. "She always viewed the fact that my father only had one child as a failing in his duty to continue the family line."

He poked idly at his dessert, but his apetite was deminished completely. The spoon was set gently down; his eyes slowly climbed back to look at Imogen again. "My dream was always of a quiet little place on some out of the way planet; a little land, a little livestock maybe; somewhere I could retreat to and spend the rest of my days worrying about nothing else except enjoying life... and maybe making a little life of my own, too."

His eyes wavered in their gaze at Imogen; confliction rising in him again. He didn't like this: bearing his soul. At the best of times it made him uncomfortable, but with Imogen especially he wasn't sure what she might do if he left himself so exposed. Tear him to shreds, more than likely. And yet, why did it feel so easy to reveal such things to her? Why was his better judgement not curbing his tongue?

"My father groomed me for Imperial service since I was old enough to stand upright and wear a uniform. I think he was hoping that he'd be able to leave the Fleet with an Akasha when he eventually retired." A slight smile cracked on his face. "I don't think he was all that happy when I enrolled for Stormtrooper training on Carida instead of Navy training at the Academy. Closest I ever got to teenage rebellion."

He hesitated, not sure if his next question was appropriate; particularly given their turbulent heart-to-heart the night before. "Your parents -?" he asked delicately, hoping to tease out the information without seeming to pry too harshly into what could well be a sensitive issue.

[Imogen Rhysode]

''Oh, my parents...'' she started off, pausing to swallow the spoonful of the dessert she put in her mouth just a moment earlier. With lips pursed, Imogen enjoyed the silken texture of the cream and its fruity aftertaste, then washed it down with another sip of wine. Her gaze elevated from the bowl to meet Elias's steel gaze.

''My father served as a Sun Guard during the Clone Wars, only to be made into one of first Imperial Guards appointed to Emperor Palpatine himself when the Empire rose to power. If I was a boy...who knows. I might have been your colleague. My father was greatly disappointed when he realized I could never follow his footsteps. But he did change his opinion when he got my first grade report from the CorSec academy. He was the first one to cheer and clap when I graduated.'' she explained, nostalgic glow in her luminescent irises. One could tell she missed home.

''And my mother is a housewife. Despite her efforts, she failed at teaching me the art of housework. I was always the tomboy - right there in the garage, picking over the engine of my dad's speeder bike. Cooking, ironing... Those activities did not interest me much. My grandmother always told me I would make a lousy housewife.'' she concluded, letting a feeble chuckle escape her mouth before staring into her glass and emptying it. In the depth of her mind, Imogen pondered whether her grandmother was right. The wisdom of ages was on her grandmother's side, together with a lifetime of experience; the Echani wondered if she was destined to loiter in this realm solitary and companionless. She caught herself overly immersed in musing about subjects far too intimate for a second encounter, so the commander opted to move onto lighter subjects, especially those with less bile and bitterness about them. Perhaps even shift the ball to his court.

''To be honest - I always admired the amount of effort and dedication one has to have in order to serve as an Imperial Guard. It's not a job, it's a way of life. A sacrifice. I would know as I barely knew my father. So in a sense, I do admire your line of work. Not all of it, but the general idea - yes. No matter how disrespectful I may sound sometimes. Attribute it to me being a bitter wench after my tragedy.'' she voiced with a dose of remorse and self-pity, painfully aware how the events in her past changed her into nothing more than a shadow of her former self.

[Elias Akasha]

Elias felt a tug of sympathy, but didn't let it show on his features. The pair of them had far more in common than either of them would be willing to admit; save for a few chance differences in genetics and fate, they could well have grown to become the same person. He wondered what might have happened if they had somehow come to know each other under different circumstances. Were it not for her instant aversion to his Imperial status, what kind of relationship would they have established? Or had last night's confrontation been necessary in breaking the ice between them, to make this all possible?

"I think you're entitled to be a little bitter," he countered, his voice attempting a slightly soothing tone. "Given your experience, I doubt anyone else would react differently. And besides -" He offered a trace of a smile. "- without them, our dinner conversation wouldn't be nearly so interesting." He allowed the smile to flourish slightly. "More wine?" he offered, gesturing with the bottle.

[Imogen Rhysode]

''Ah...'' she grunted feebly, pushing away the small bowl and setting the spoon inside.
''No more wine. Unless you plan to carry me back to my quarters. And I must warn you - I'm quite heavy. Even heavier after such a abundant dinner! Which was great - by the way.'' Imogen complemented him, adding in an appreciative smile. Long time had passed since somebody cooked dinner for her; the last person who prepared a meal for her was her fiancee, the night before he was killed. Passage of time faded those memories away; to Imogen they now seemed as aged holophotos from a family album - relics of the past that had little to do with the present, even less to do with Akasha.

''You're not quite what I expected, Elias. There's more to you than meets the eye.'' the fair-haired female inferred, surprised to find herself uttering those words. But they were the truth and he was hospitable enough not only to feed her but he also managed to duck all of the verbal artillery she directed and shot at him over the course of the evening. If nothing more, this man was worthy of attention.

[Elias Akasha]

"That makes two of us," he replied, the words leaping off his tongue before he even realised what they were. The creatures in his stomach resumed their frenzy again; one tried to make a bid for freedom by crawling up his throat. He swallowed, hard. Thoughts of her scant-clad form draped over his arms as he carried her down the corridor swam through his thoughts, lubricated by the alcohol beginning to find purchase in his system. More thoughts followed, various permutations of having her in his arms; that dress; what lay beneath -

Frowning, he puzzled over the bottle as if the wine was suddenly of intense interest to him. "You're right," he muttered, half to himself. "That's probably enough wine for this evening."

Despite the decision that logic and good sense had let him to, the intoxication of Imogen's presence was irresistable. His mind urged; hormones surged; his skin felt like it was crawling in a desperate attempt to reach out and bring to reality his imaginations, whether his muscles and bones were going to comply or not. Elias found his gaze drowning in the pools of liquid mercury that lurked within her eyes. His heart fluttered. Damn it, Akasha, his subconscious scolded. Quit acting like such an emotional bitch.

Setting the wine bottle down, he carefully adjusted his expression into a wry smile. "It wouldn't say much for my hospitality if I didn't offer you a nightcap, though." He indicated in the direction of his appartment's seating area, where a pair of leatherette sofas waited in front of a faux fire. "Can I offer you a glass of anything else; Alderaanian Brandy, perhaps?"

[Imogen Rhysode]

If Imogen did not already ingest several full glasses of wine, she would have considered leaving at this point in time. The evening had somehow managed to head in a pleasant direction, a bit too pleasant for Imogen's current standards; she was afraid that alcohol would make her disclose information she so diligently tried to conceal. But some inexplicable force of attraction had her glued to her place, with eyes fixed on Akasha as she gazed at him with an almost dreamy look that paused on his lips, bearing far less flesh than her meaty ones. Angular features of his face were enticingly masculine; when coupled with his brawny figure, he radiated with security and assurance. Those were the traits Imogen had learned to appreciate.
His question made her snap from her reverie, a twitch of her eyelids bringing her back to the present.

''Brandy? By all means...'' she accepted, placing her hands on the tabletop and erecting herself from her seat. A series of soft, cat-like steps brought her to a leather couch where she seated herself right in the middle, then slid a bit to the left side, leaving him some space. She crossed her legs over and the seam of her dress travelled upwards, revealing a great portion of her right thigh. Imogen did nothing to revert it to the way it was.

''Why are you alone, Elias? Afraid you might want to...stay in the morning?'' she asked boldly, the wine clearly percolating through her blood-stream to knock out additional barriers she set herself prior to this evening. Imogen bit her lip inwardly, immediately regretting to asking such an intimate question. However, it was there, hovering in the air between them and a part of her hoped he would answer. Another part of her cursed how he should hurry with the whiskey so that she may not remember any of this embarrassment in the morning.

[Elias Akasha]

Elias nearly knocked the bottle over as her question floated across the room to him; the sheer bluntness of her question slamming into him like a wave. Fortunately, the alcohol hadn't yet dulled his reflexes completely, and a quick snatch managed to prevent it from emptying its precious contents across the counter. he took a deep, calming breath before pouring a generous double into each of the two waiting glasses.

He returned to the couch still pondering her question; trying to mediate between the warring urges in his brain, with no idea of which one he wanted to succeed. He pressed the glass gently into Imogen's fingers before settling himself down beside her, shifting into the corner of the sofa with one leg hooked up, and an arm reaching out towards her across the cushioned back. His fingers strayed precariously close to her soft, silver locks; it took all the willpower he could muster to arrest their attempts to weave through it.

His eyes drank in every detail without restraint this time, dancing over the graceful curves of her body all the way from her long, silk-smooth legs all the way up to those lips that were so tempting and inviting, he could almost taste them against his. A sip of brandy washed across his tongue and down his throat before he spoke. "I suppose," he said, finally allowing his attention to return to her eyes, "I've never met a woman who I'd want to stay with before."

Before. The word hung in his mind, resonating as he heard it aloud in his own voice. A ripple of panic coursed through him as he realised the implication; with all his heart he hoped that Imogen would allow it to merely pass by as a harmless turn of phrase. The ripple left a grim realisation in its wake, however. Had it simply been a slip of the tongue, or did he; - was she; - is that what he felt?

[Imogen Rhysode]

As expected, the brandy was delicious. When the aroma of the aged beverage tickled her tastebuds, Imogen squirmed out of sheer pleasure; slowly, she let it trickle down her throat and into her bloodstream, the fine brandy completely diluting any inhibitions she had left. Subsequently, she disregarded his words and their repercussions, immersing herself in the moment instead.

''Having high standards, hm?'' the silver-haired woman asked, canting her head to the side with lips still brushing against the rim of the glass in an almost playful manner - ''I can't say I blame you. Such a man as yourself is only entitled to the best.''
She flattered his ego, caressed his pride - all in hope to release him from his stiff, militant demeanour, ridding him of the vast and amount of self-control that kept his instincts at bay. Her hand ran up her thigh to her knee, skimming over her smooth skin stretched over firm and oblong quadriceps of her sculptured legs.

''I'm sure that the ladies of the Serreno court will match your taste then.'' Imogen voiced timidly, taking another sip that almost emptied her glass. At that very moment, the shoulder strap of her ivory dress casually fell to the side, exposing a bare shoulder continuing from the arc of her ample collar bone; without its textile support, the curves of her chest loosened a bit. Apparently, Imogen remained oblivious to this additional exposure, as she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply to vent some of the heat that built up inside her due to her excessive ingestion of alcohol.

[Elias Akasha]

"I'm not sure that -" Words came clumsily, only a small portion of Elias' attention dedicated to speach while the rest focussed on the slight extra revelation of Imogen's flesh. "- that I'd be able to -" His gaze traced the soft and subtle curve that traced unbroken down her neck and across her shoulders, save for the cascade of silver hair that crashed against her skin like a waterfall. His vision wavered precariously before tumbling down into her chest, imagination slowly peeling away the negligable layer of fabric. He bit his lip as his mind wandered, and wondered what her silken and subtle skin might taste like.

Come on, Elias, a voice in the back of his mind hissed. Concentrate. Focus.

His eyes flicked back towards hers; he wrestled his thoughts into some sort of coherant stream. "- go to such extreme lengths to dodge around the initial preconceptions that my Imperial status conjures." He took a sip of brandy, and mustered a smile. "I'd wager that you're not the only woman on the Demici staff who has an aversion to the Empire."

Silence fell, and his attention dropped to her shoulder once again, despite his intense efforts to avoid it; battling down his other urges was far too distracting. "You have -" he heard himself say; committed to drawing attention, he allowed himself to continue. Gently, his fingers reached out, lightly brushing against Imogen's arm. Electricity coursed through him at the contact; fighting the urge to do more, he simply hooked a finger around the fallen strap, and lifted it gently back into position on Imogen's shoulder.

He flashed a sheepish smile, then hid behind the rim of his glass, and another mouthful of brandy. "Sorry."