An Exercise in Tolerance

[Imogen Rhysode]

Normally, noon would be considered an unappropriate time for exercise, but given the lack of action around the Demici estate, Imogen decided to traverse into the lush gardens where a pool was to be found - the perfect refreshment in hot Saffian days that marked most of the year on this equatorial part of Serenno. At times like these, the Echani missed the damp and drowsy weather of Corellia much, not being quite comfortable exchanging it for this everlasting summer. Fortunately, the water was substantially colder than the warm ocean bewailing the shores just a few hundred meters away.

Chills were sent down her spine when the fair-haired woman plummeted into the waters of the pool with a loud splash. The sensation induced had relieved her of stress that accumulated over the past few days, the said frustration mostly stemming out of the arrival of a certain Imperial. She could not help but to mull over his words, gloat and relish over her own verbal triumph and the fact she managed to peel of his mask and maim some aggression out of him. On the other hand, she was deeply hurt by his words, mostly because she knew they were the truth. However, their lack of communication over the past few days began to worry her greatly; perhaps he was growing suspicious of her?

''He's read right through you, Rhysode.'' commander cerebrated whilst diving, scooping water to the side to advance towards the far end of the pool. When her hand touched the tiles, she had already used up all of the air in her lungs; a splash marked her ascent towards the surface, her mouth opening to draw in the much needed oxygen.

[Elias Akasha]

"Go relax," the Ambassador had said; ordered, even.

Elias had been summoned by Rübezhal to breakfast on the ocean-facing veranda - too large to be considered merely a balcony - that extended from the spacious and airy luxury of the chambers that the Demici's had provided for him. Given the assessment of Ceto's personality that he had made thus far, it wouldn't have surprised him if the Ambassador was merely attempting to show off the greater lushness afforded in his quarters as compared to those Elias had been given for the duration of his stay, but then again it did make a certain amount of sense to have their private discussions outside, where any surveillance equipment could be easily thwarted by the sound of the sea, the open air, and the handful of technological gizmos and contraptions that Elias was able to smuggle about his person without arousing suspicion.

The Agent was careful not to reveal too many of the specifics of his encounter with Rhysode the previous night; from what he did convey to the Ambassador however, Ceto seemed satisfied. Elias didn't press for details in his own attempts at diplomacy, but didn't doubt for a second that the Ambassador had made considerably more progress than he. Even so, Rübezhal had instructed him to take a day or so to explore his surroundings, and come to terms with the benefits of this assignment; he'd suggested that Elias view it as reconnaissance of the Demici estate, or as an attempt to better establish his cover, and integrate himself with the locals to ease his completion of the additional, undisclosed responsibilities that Elias had been assigned by the Empress. No doubt the Ambassador suspected - rightly so - that he was the target of some of those instructions, but his suggestion did at least make a certain amount of sense.

However, compliance with the Ambassador's effective order did raise some interesting issues; namely that it had been so long since Elias allowed himself to truely relax that he had forgotten how to invest his free time. If memory served, the last recreational activity he had engaged in had been on Doldur, when he'd made arrangements to fly a patrol with one of the TIE Fighter units, thus retaining his flight status; hardly rest and relaxation.

He had decided to settle for familiar territory, and had engaged in an inspection of the well-appointed gymnasium that the Demici family had provided for its security staff. After an extensive investigation of various items of equipment, he had concluded that everything was functioning in an acceptable manner, and had managed to work away a good many of his concerns and stray thoughts, allowing them to sweat out of his pores as he exercised.

One of the staff that had also been present had suggested a secluded pool out in the gardens that, at this time of day, was likely to be unoccupied. So, the majority of his clothing abandoned at the gym - conveyed to the laundry by said helpful employee, with the promise that they would be returned to his quarters later - Elias had set off in the indicated direction, navigating his way through the labyrinth of gardens.

He had - eventually - discovered his destination, but a critical feature was not as advertised. Given their conversation the night before, Elias didn't doubt that the distinctive silver and water-slicked hair, and the impossibly tall and curvatious physique that slipped effortlessly through the water belonged to Rhysode; the Echani woman who he had hoped to avoid for as long as was humanly - or non-humanly - possible.

A swell of emotion urged him to flee, but his head refused to comply. At least an amicable relationship with his Serenno counterpart would be necessary in order to serve the Empress as instructed; maybe the temperature-controlled waters of the pool would be the ideal location to cool the elevated emotions from the night before.

"Hi," he said simply.

[Imogen Rhysode]

Imogen lifted her head above the surface of the water, glaring above to the male figure that towered over her. Her iridescent silver eyes shone in the shadow cast by his burly physique; her gaze travelled up the well-defined musculature of his sculpted torso to settle on his face. Tiny droplets of water trickled over her face and back to the pool, wet hair slicked backwards only to accentuate the arching of her brow in bewilderment.

''What the fuck is he doing here?'' she questioned herself mentally, whilst firmly gripping the edge of the pool. If he firmly believed in the notions he offered the night before, Akasha would act wise if he were to stay away from her. Unfortunately, their inherent collaboration required for them to develop at least some sort of a frustration-free acquaintance for the sake of technicalities. Imogen was unsure if this was possible, given last night's argument and her subsequent emotional breakdown that ensued. However, nothing on her face disclosed the anguish he had caused, but deep inside, she was burning up, wishing she could punch him right in the face. Even if she allowed herself to act upon this whim, there would be little use of it. The implication of his words would still be valid.

For the briefest of moments, Imogen just stared at him, before elevating herself out of the water, immensely straining the muscles on her arms to finally sit at the edge of the pool. Readjusting the chestpiece edges of her black swimming suit, the commander looked away from the agent, feet still dangling in water.

''What are you doing here?'' the Echani inquired, a feeble, almost disappointed sigh following her words.

[Elias Akasha]

Elias shrugged. "I was planning on swimming."

He looked around himself awkwardly, wondering how he might strike a more casual pose than his usual ramrod-straight stance. He tried a crouch, but found himself hampered by the sandles he'd elected to wear, and was forced to place a hand on the ground and lever himself gently onto the poolside; a respectful distance from where Rhysode sat, of course.

Hooking his knees over the rim of the pool, and letting his heels rest against a convenient protrusion just above the waterline, once again his eyes were drawn to the luxurious curves of the Echani's physique; memory still burning from her accusations the night before, he ripped his eyes away, forcing himself to focus on the ripples and waves that slowly danced their way across the surface of the water.

He grabbed at the corner of the towel casually tossed over his shoulder, and ran the gently abrasive cloth over his face. "I wasn't -" His brow tugged into a frown; his features fought back with a wince, striking some kind of balance in between; his lips added an embarassed smile as he finally allowed his eyes to stray in her direction again. "I wasn't looking for you on purpose, but I'm glad I found you. I -"

His eyes fell away again; fingers laced together as his arms rested on his knees, idling for something to do. "What I said last night was completely out of line. I owe you an appology."

[Imogen Rhysode]

''Well that's something I find hard to believe, agent Akasha.'' she responded in an almost patronizing tone, tossing loose strands of wet hair away from her face.
''Out of eleven thousand square feet of the Demici estate, you managed to find me somehow. If you hadn't said otherwise yesterday, I would start thinking you like me, Elias.'' With her sentence finished in jest, the Echani threw a small smile in the mix to completely startle him if he was expecting a grim, agitated welcome from her.
He was cultured enough to apologize first, notably swallowing his pride; it was not a frequent trait with the Imperials, this sympathetic humility. Imogen was not going to mock him for it; even an individual with such a difficult personality as herself appreciated when somebody admitted they did a mistake. However, she was not going to let him expiate for it. Not for long anyway.

''About last night... There's nothing you should apologize for. Everything you said is true. I haven't been a very good person since I left Corellia. I had no reason to be. I'm sorry I pushed you to say it...so yes, it's really my fault.'' the fair-haired woman stated, lips thinning into a line.
''Wow, an apology, Rhysode! You're growing soft!'' an inner voice sounded at the back of her head, the voice of hate towards everything Imperial that brooded in the depths of her mind. For the time being, she silenced it.
''I hope we can put this behind us for the sake of our future endeavours.'' Imogen added, then elevated herself off the edge and leaped into the water. After a short dive she used to swim through the distance that separated them, Imogen re-emerged right before him.
''Friends?'' she asked simply and then extended her hand towards him for a handshake, a mischievous grin curving her full lips. There was intention in those silver irises, as mystical as was her half-grin. Elias would soon find out, provided he returned her gesture.

[Elias Akasha]

A matching smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. "Just as long as my boss doesn't find out that I'm consorting with a non-human," he quipped back, letting the expression blossom a little more as he gripped her hand. He found himself ensnared by her eyes; utterly captivated by the shining mystery they presented. Her words replayed in his mind: I would start thinking you like -

The thought never got the opportunity to finish, as an unexpectedly strong tug on his captured arm upset his balance, and sent him crashing into the rippling surface of the pool. Stunned by the sudden rush of motion, and the impact of cool water against his skin, he made the mistake of gasping; by the time his feet managed to find purchase on the bottom, he'd managed to lose a sandle, and was busy coughing the mouthful of water out of his lungs. His hands slicked the water out of his eyes and back through his hair; when his vision managed to return, he twisted his gaze towards Rhysode with a look of disbelief.

A laugh and one last cough escaped him at the same time. Beneath the water, his feet kicked off the one solitary sandle; his hands meanwhile lanced out and snared his floating towel. "That was mature," he muttered, with a mock sigh of frustration.

[Imogen Rhysode]

Reverberant laughter left Imogen's lips when Akasha hit the water with a large splash. For a moment, she grew worried over his hobbling but her smile returned when his head finally emerged above the surface.

''What, you forgot to have fun whilst training at the Imperial academy?'' she taunted, tapping her palm to produce small splashes directed at him. Surely, her gesture was childish and immature, but it was priceless to see him fall for such a cheap trick, especially given his stiffness and military posture he tried to exercise even in such a casual atmosphere.

''First you complain I am a wench, now you say I am immature... But yeah...you're right. On both accounts.'' she smirked, letting herself float on the surface of the water. Frail rivulets skid from side to side of her flat stomach as she applied a backstroke to swim away from him.
''I like your swimwear. But I'm disappointed. I thought all of your underwear had Imperial insignia on it. Glow in the dark ones. So rank would be known even when the lights are out.'' she remarked in an almost enticing tone whilst ceasing to stroke backwards, setting herself afloat in the middle of the pool.

[Elias Akasha]

"These are my undercover shorts," he countered, folding his arms defensively across his chest, but there was still a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Truth be told, he had forgotten how to have fun. Many a collegue had suggested he learn to lighten up over the past few years; apparently, Commander Rhysode wasn't planning on giving him an option.

He nodded his head vaguely in her direction. "I hope the shop you bought that swimsuit from gave you a discount," he teased, fighting down a childish grin. "Looks like they short-changed you a little; half the fabric is missing."

Having drawn the attention of their conversation to her attire, Elias' efforts to avoid staring at Imogen ultimately crumbled into failure. The swathe of black fabric that wrapped around her barely qualified as more than a bikini, save for the few extra inches of material that bound the two piece into a single item, hugging Imogen's curves like a shadow. The ensemble left very little to the imagination, and Elias' imagination was enthusiastically leaping to complete such a simple task.

The force with which he dragged his focus away was almost painful. "I'll have you know," he willed his voice into uttering, his vision finally climbing its way back towards her eyes, "That back on Carida I was considered quite the life and soul of the party."

[Imogen Rhysode]

Slowly but surely, Rhysode swam to the edge of the pool. She had been in water for over half an hour; in exchange, she now craved the warmth of sunlight over the chill of the water. Akasha's response amused her greatly - their exchange of taunts was bordering flirtation and for some insane reason, Imogen liked it.

The part of her brain that usually propagated sensibility was completely silenced, not warning her she was near an Imperial any more. He seemed way more relaxed then before; it suited him better than the stiffness and austerity of the Imperial breed, a smile complementing those angular features of his face far more than a scowl he produced the evening before.

His last comment made her quirk a silver brow when her hands reached for the metal ladder that lead out of the pool.
''I don't believe you. You'd have to show me that sometime.'' Imogen replied and pulled herself out of the water to stand on the edge of the pool, water meandering down her skin under the influence of gravity. Tiny droplets sparkled like jewels scattered over velvet skin, only to evaporate under the sizzling radiance of the noon sun.
''But only if it includes abnormal amounts of expensive alcohol.'' she added and bit her lower lip whilst letting her right hand rest on her waist.

[Elias Akasha]

It took the reverberating clunk inside his head as his jaw snapped shut for Elias to realise it had been hanging open. Inappropriate thoughts surged through his imagination, and it took all of his composure to hold them at bay. The playful invitation to a less formal encounter held an intoxicating allure; and the way the mosture and sunlight danced across her skin made him feel somewhat relieved that he was still mostly submerged.

"Abnormal amouts of expensive alcohol," he said, finally finding his voice again, and flashing Imogen a grin. "Just happen to be a prerequisite."

Killing his smile, he descended rapidly through the water, and kicked off with a single, powerful and fluid motion. His body moved swiftly while submerged, performing a lazy corkscrew as he crossed the several meters of distance to the edge where Imogen had arranged herself like a waiting siren. He eventually surfaced, still a respectful few feet away, and planted his feet against the bottom of the pool, elevating himself so that his eyes were only a few inches lower than hers. His smile returned with a vengance. "I'm also pretty talented in the -"

Don't say bedroom. Don't say bedroom. Don't say -

"- kitchen," he finished, his smile wavering slightly, falling lopsided. "Maybe I can show you that sometime as well?"

[Imogen Rhysode]

''Oh are you?'' she replied within her mind, canting her head to the side with lips parted in amusement. For all she knew, this was an open invitation to a date, served by a well-trained Imperial officer - a chance to gather information no Alliance agent could afford to miss. She was attracted to him like a moth was to a lightbulb; if he requested her company with absolutely no reluctance evident in his tone, he must have had some interest in her Imogen could use against him. However, she scolded herself for thinking is such a calculated way; not even an Imperial deserved to be toyed with.

Imogen turned him his back and leaned over to pick up the towel she left by the pool, gently rubbing it against her face to remove excess moisture. It bought her a few moments to decide whether she indulge him and let him flaunt his culinary skills in front of her.
''It's a date.'' she voiced finally, briefly glancing in the general direction of the pool ''I'll be there at nine. I usually dine late.''
With that being said, the Echani made her way back inside, shooting him another look over her shoulder before disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

[Elias Akasha]

Its a date.

The words twisted a knot in Elias' stomach. He had hoped his invitation was more subtly masked than that. Perhaps Imogen's words had merely been a turn of phrase, and he was simply reading into her words too much. He had convinced himself that it was merely a diplomatic gesture, either intended to make amends for his faux pais the night before, or in the interests of simply smoothing their cooperation and friendship. But when phrased in such a blunt and unveilled way, Elias couldn't help the swell of nerves.

He watched her leave without masking his observation; she glanced back, but didn't seem peturbed. Mentally, he chastised himself for making such an impulsive offer, justifiable as it was as a purely business affair if the Ambassador or the Empress should enquire. As Imogen finally disappeared from sight, he plunged himself down into the cooled water of the pool, lingering there within the blissful sensory deprevation that submersion provided, allowing his thoughts to reform with new clarity.

As he surfaced, new resolve formed on his face. "I need ingredients," he announced, to no one in particular.

* * *

One of the difficulties of being so married to one's career was the detrimental effect it had on one's wardrobe. Though Rhysode's earlier comment had presumably been in mere jest, in truth there were very few items of clothing that Elias owned - or at least, had brought with him - that didn't sport an Imperial emblem somewhere or other, even if it was only on the label. His tall and broad frame didn't provide much hope for borrowed attire, either. Fortunately, a covert visit to the laundry had yielded an unremarkable plain white shirt that seemed to belong to one of the more portly members of the Demici's staff.

However, the shirt lay unused presently, in deference to the culinary magic being forged in the kitchen that Elias' appartments provided. Though not the most extensively equipped of cooking spaces - no doubt the majority of the staff and residents were expected to source their food from the main kitchens - it provided enough for the simple meal Elias had chosen to prepare. The ingredients were wrong - a haphazard collection of the closest matches that he had been able to commendeer - but were close enough to the traitional Kuati dish that his grandmother had insisted on teaching him to prepare before he left home for the Academy.

He paused to reminisce that amusing if embarassing last encounter with his grandmother. She'd outlined a number of possible modifications as well, including a list of subtle spices that she informed him would make the food hot enough to encourage whatever lady he cooked for to drink more often; apparently, her estimation of her grandson's seduction techniques led her to believe that getting women drunk was his only chance. Elias had explained to her that the odds of him meeting women at the Academy were somewhat slim; she had simply responded that they certainly would be if that was his attitude, and that she was planning on seeing her great grandchildren before she passed on, so "Shut up, pay attention, and maybe you'll learn how to ensnare someone stupid enough to become your wife."

Scooping out a taste on the edge of the wooden spoon he'd been idly poking the concoction with, he gauged the proportion of spices on his tongue and, after a moment's hesitation, added an extra sprinkling of capsicum, just to appease his grandmother's last wishes.

[Imogen Rhysode]

Choice. People often complained they had none, but when they were finally given the freedom to choose, the decision process seemed to be endless. It had been three quarters of a standard hour that Imogen spent ransacking through her closet to find something suitable to wear. It was only then that the Echani realized her wardrobe consisted of nothing more than a collection of uniforms; countless piles of white and black tanktops, cargo trousers and buckle boots - but nothing even remotely feminine. Imogen frowned.

''When was the last time you went shopping, silly girl?'' she scolded herself out loud, tossing clothes about, frustrated by the apparent lack of appropriate attire. Just when she was ready to give up, she noticed a silken seam somewhere at the back of her closet. As if reaching for the light at the end of the tunnel, she immersed her entire arm into the depth of her wardrobe and pulled out what seemed to be satin white dress, still wrapped in plastic, practically unworn.

''When did I buy this?'' she asked herself in puzzlement, only to remember it was a gift from her dear grandmother before she went to the academy. The old woman probably intended it for a nightgown, but Imogen had attended numerous sorority parties wearing the said garment. An almost lecherous smile formed on her lips as she briefly reminisced good old days.
Standing in front of the mirror, she changed into the dress and glanced at her own reflection.

''Oh Rhysode, lighten up. It was not too short back then, as it is not too short now.'' the woman encouraged herself, then turned to head for Akasha's quarters. Bare feet patted against the marble floor of the corridor as she traversed the short distance that separated the quarters of two officers. A double knock sounded, indicating her arrival. Imogen clasped her hands behind her back and smacked the guttural feeling of exhilaration into obedience, her facial expression acquiring pleasant coolness.

[Elias Akasha]

Knock. Knock.

Elias' eyes snapped to the doorway. Then to the clock. It was nine already. She was here. He wasn't ready. Shit.

Frantically jabbing at the food on the stove, he kicked it up into one last sizzling frenzy, then notched down the heat and tossed a lid noisily over the pan. His eyes darted around him; bare feet skidded on the floor as he raced around the kitchen area, snatching up two glasses and retrieving the bottle of chilled white from the cooler. "Just a minute!" he called, more for his own benefit than anything else, given how the appartment was probably soundproofed for the benefit of the Demici's guests. He set both the wine and glasses down on the table he'd brought in from his own meagre balcony, and brushed his sweaty, nervous palms on the back of his pants.

Eyes darted around the room once again, running through a mental checklist. Everything looked ready. Hopefully in this instance, the looks weren't decieving. Jogging back across towards the door, he caught a glimpse of himself in one of the many mirrored surfaces scattered about the place. No shirt! Running to the chair where he'd abandoned his clothes-raid spoils earlier, he tugged the sleeves over his arms, and fought to calm his breathing and heartrate as, once again, he aimed himself for the door. He forewent the buttons for now, tugging awkwardly at the way the garment hung and then, after a deep breath, jabbed a finger into the door control.

The hatch opened, and Elias' breath caught in his chest. He'd been idly preparing himself for how Imogen might appear once she'd figeratively let her hair down, but even his wildest imagination hadn't come close to the reality. He'd seen her already wearing slightly less, down by the pool; even so, the minimalism of her dress had him staring, and no amount of self-control managed to hold it at bay. "Uh -" he vocalised, dumbly; he mustered every ounce of his willpower, and forced his eyes to climb upwards. "Wow," he breathed, flashing a slightly embarassed smile. He took a step backwards, and gestured into the room behind him. "Sorry; come in."

[Imogen Rhysode]

When his gaze finally reached her face, she held it for a few moments, peering deeply into his steel coloured irises. Biting her lip inwardly, the Echani failed to produce any reaction other than a timid, shy smile that curbed the soft flesh of her cheeks upwards. The scent of freshness that evaporated from his snow-white shirt brushed past her senses, inducing a sensation of pleasantry sufficient to make her want take a step closer and sniffle the fragrance right off his neck.

''Something smells nice here.'' Imogen voiced, eyes skimming his bare chest visible through his unbuttoned shirt, then just when he probably began to think she was referring to him, the silver-haired woman motioned to the stove and the bubbling pot that was to be found there.

''Who taught you to cook? Your ex-wife?'' she probed upon taking a few coy steps inside to merely allow for the door to close. Truth be told, she did not expect him to engage in such a culinary odyssey; there were only a few men she knew that dared to do this. It surprised her and some of her defence mechanisms seemed to loosen, but her taunting nature still provoked her to prick and prod him whenever given the opportunity.

[Elias Akasha]

The dress was as short at the back as it was at the front. That simple, marvelous fact held his attention captivated for a few moments, as Imogen visually explored the space that she no doubt hadn't seen for, oh, a few days; probably not since she finished supervising the installation of the electronic listening devices that were no doubt strewn about the place. A younger Elias might have been uncomfortable with the notion of being covertly observed, and would have spent hours trying to locate and disable whatever devices he could find. The older Elias knew that such efforts were ultimately futile, and that even the slightest oversight of a single item would make the process redundant; under the scrutiny he had grown accustomed to on Doldur and Imperial Center, he had simply learned to be careful of what he chose to say and do, even in the "privacy" of his own quarters.

He realised that his delay in response was straining the limits of decorum. "I don't have one of those," he admitted, greeting Imogen's glance over her shoulder with a smile. "Much to my grandmother's dismay." She shrugged casually, pacing across towards his kitchen to idly pester the food as it simmered. "She was a lifelong housewife, and felt that teaching me to cook was a shrewd investment; thought it'd make me more attractive to a potential mother for her grandkids."

Carefully tasting his concoction once again to test the balance of spices, he gave himself an appreciative nod and, after scrubbing his hands clean with a strategically placed cloth, set about fastening the buttons on his shirt. His eyes swept over Imogen's choice of clothing again, and Elias couldn't shake the feeling that even his simple outfit made him over-dressed.

"Wine?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the table as he swept around the kitchen worktop towards it and, as would be expected of an upstanding Kuati gentleman, pulled out a chair and invited Imogen to sit.

[Imogen Rhysode]

Imogen briefly mused over his explanation, reminiscing of her own relationship with her grandmother. It looked like all grannies were similar; they had fixed ideas on how the world functioned, with their own set of values they tried to imprint in their grandchildren. It could be annoying at times, but it was always out of love and care.

''Tell me about it... My grandmother bought me this dress before I went to the academy. I was probably more than half a feet shorter than I am now. When she saw me wearing it sometime during my junior year, she was shocked. I guess she never thought I would grow taller. And that the dress would hence appear shorter.'' the Echani explained, sitting down into the chair and folding the fabric over her lap not to reveal too much of the flesh of her thighs. A pointless mission, given the lenght of the skirt.

''She also told me I would never find a husband in this dress. Merely somebody - and I quote - to hump me and dump me. But that is what college is all about, agent Akasha? Is it not, hm?'' she queried, lips stretching into a wicked smile.
''And wine would be nice.'' was her last addition when flipped a loose strand of hair away from her face only to twirl it around her index finger playfully.

[Elias Akasha]

Force bless your grandmother, Elias mused internally, distracting himself from another bout of staring by busying himself with the wine. He forced himself not to consider her words too carefully; words that could easily be misconstrued, if he wasn't careful.

His attention strayed back to the kitchen, glancing across the timepiece that he'd been casually observing throughout the evening. "Humping and dumping was never really my style," he admitted, transporting his now-filled glass with him to the stove. "Though the Imperial Academy hardly provided that broad a spectrum of women to engage in such pursuits with."

He paused, lifting the pan away from the heat, before retrieving the plates gently warmed in the oven and setting about the task of distributing the food between them. Elias couldn't remember the name that the cook had quoted for the meat that formed the basis of the dish; something akin to a nerf, he was assured. It had certainly responded well to his efforts, soaking up the flavours from the rich and subtly spiced marinade. Delicately, he arranged what looked to be an appropriate portion, garnished it with sprigs of herbs and leaves of a few salad plants he'd managed to procure; the final touch was half a loaf of scratch-baked flatbread.

"I'm afraid it's a little rustic," he appologised, carrying the food carefully across to their table, and setting the first of the plates down in front of his guest, "And somewhat makeshift; it seems the kitchen stores here aren't nearly as well stocked in traditional Kuati ingredients as my gramma's pantry back home."

After retrieving the wine he'd abandoned by the stove, and settling down into the seat opposite, Elias raised his glass slightly. "Here's hoping that this evening goes a little more smoothly than the last."

[Imogen Rhysode]

Imogen chuckled as she watched him walk away to the stove.
''I imagine you had little time for anything else with all that excessive training. I heard the instructors there tolerate nothing less than sheer perfection.'' she voiced, peering over to watch him finalize the meal, her nostrils widening to inhale the aroma of freshness that evaporated from the pot. She was hungry without a doubt; hungry for a home-cooked meal, as she grew tired of the exquisite cuisine of the Demici court; her tastebuds were accustomed to simple cookery, with as little exotic ingredients as possible. Corellian food was not bland; on the contrary, it was well seasoned, but with spices that were complementary rather than clashing on one's tastebuds.

Her fingers wrapped around the glass and with lips set on the rim, Imogen sipped the wine, letting it simmer in her mouth before allowing it to trickle down her throat. The rich bouquet and sweet-sour scent made it a perfect complement for the meal Akasha prepared, even more so when he set the plate before her and intoxicating scents began to fill the air. However, Rhysode decided to taunt him one last time, just for the fun of it.

Her facial expression turned into one of resentment and horror, when she glanced at the steaming piece of meat then back at her host.
''I should have told you I'm a vegeterian.'' she said with a sour smile.

[Elias Akasha]

The colour drained from Elias' face. That was the first question he should have asked; and one of the many he'd neglected to. He'd assumed - again; which was starting to become a habit during his encounters with Rhysode - and it had all gone horribly wrong. The way his luck was shaping up, she'd probably turn out to be mortally allergic to the desert he'd prepared as well.

"I -" he fumbled for words. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think to -"

He winced; forced himself to be calm; mentally ran through his dwindling options. "I'm sorry; I should have asked. Want me to -" He waved his hand vaguely. "- try and whip something up?"