There was some part of Emelie Shadowstar that genuinely adored the upper levels of Cloud City. The Tourist District with all it's glitz and glamour, Residential for all it's pompous lofts, and the Administrative where the two upper districts came to get down to work. Everything below was sacred to her on another level, but that was best left to the after hours if not afterthought. Starport, better known as Port Town was a second home to her, level where Emelie felt she could be herself fully when wrapped in the mutlicolor lights of Elysium.

Here though, on level 113, where the offices of Elysian Acquisitions stood, it too was home, just in a different way. The tranparasleel windows of the official offices looked over a small park where white collar folks could sit and have lunch. Emelie had made sure that her offices had a small balcony that opened to the fresh air provided by the plant live there, a small getaway from the recycled and refreshed. Never in her life could she recall a place so green. It was equal parts remarkable and pathetic all at once.

A long stemmed cigarra holder was held delicately in her right hand as Emelie leaned over the banister that overlooked the business park below her office. From her lips came a delicate puff of blue smoke that was evidence one of many vices the woman had. Tovash in the glass set aside to the small table to her side gave way to to tell-tale bit of ryll laced in the wrapped tab.

As much as Emelie enjoyed the fight, the chaos, right now, this place? Bespin? Cloud City? It was perfect. It felt like a short lifetime of struggle had come to a head that she hoped would never burst. It had been tried already, prodded and poked and stabbed at, and had proved resilient. That in itself felt different. Her crew, this crew, it was more rock-solid than anything Emelie had before. Maybe it came from the fact they were all one step away from fleeing into the stars but held fast instead.

She wasn't sure what made it work this time. The ragtag group that made of the Exchange on paper should never have been able to hold down anything, yet they did. It brought a smile to her lips. Emelie had always had an idea in her head that that a family could get more done than anything motivated by credits. Even if that family was dysfunctional. She supposed she had her grandmother back on Zeltros to blame for the concept, but gods it worked brilliantly there. So why not here?

Emelie drained the glass at her side, held the glass up against her lips enough that the block of ice numbed her top lip before she placed it to the side again. A few steps was all it would take it to refill, but she couldn't drag herself away from the peaceful view in front of her. Instead she took a long inhale from the ryll laced cigarra again and held it, eyes closing for a bit until she heard the footsteps behind her from the person she had expected. The exhale followed, soft blue puffs of smoke leaving her in gentle clouds that wandered off towards the greens below and vanished.

"So nice of you to make time for me," Emelie drawled. It was unfair, but she didn't care. The business of her employees was her business after all.