It had been just over two weeks since the glorious ascension of Miranda Tarkin to the seat of Galactic Empress. To those whom she counted amongst her close friends and allies, it was a wonderful time, full of triumph and a seemingly endless optimism for the future to come.

On top of everything, a matter of days ago Sanya Tagge had managed to secure the capture of two high-priority members of the Rebel Alliance. At that very moment, Dasquian Belargic was being processed by the Imperial Citadel. The deft hands of the Inquisitor's were plucking from his mind secrets and truths which would undoubtedly contribute towards the final destruction of the Rebellion.

All things considered, a celebration was in order. At the request of the Miranda Tarkin herself, a dinner had been organized to bring together those whom the Empress considered closest to her heart. The guest list numbered only three, but between them their political and economical influence was vast and galaxy compassing. Hardly surprising, then, that the speeder the Tagge siblings arrived in looked as if it had cost a million credits.

As they ascended the many floors of the Imperial Palace, towards the suite in which their meal was scheduled to take place, Sanya Tagge briefly appraised her appearance as it was reflected in the transparisteel walls. More scrutinizing was the look she gave her brother, a look of mild irritation crossing his features as she smoothed out a wrinkle in the breast of his pale gray suit.

“You look like.. a croupier,” she sighed, edging his tie back and forth until it was perfectly centered.