A clash of words at the Imperial.

["M Martinez" <ironqueen@SoftHome.net>]

In which a spot of dinner and discourse gives way to tempers flared
and words exchanged.

-------------
Adreysia smiles at the rather distinct patron by his lonesome. Being
the outgoing type, Lady Adreysia moves with light clicks of her
heels to where the handsome Atreides Duke sits, and curtsies when
her presence is known. "Duke Atreides, I am Lady Adreysia Mashinka.
It is an honor to make your acquaintance."
        A regal and beautiful young woman, Lady Adreysia Mashinka
appears to be in her youthful twenties. Her face is blessed with
noble features, those including a slender nose, full lips, and high
cheekbones. Her eyes are a rich and pleasant green. Her brown hair
is worn long, falling past her shoulders if left unchecked. She
often decorates it with expensive combs or pins.
        Her body is lithe and utilizes graceful movements and
gestures to accentuate her elegance. She is tall, possessing long
legs which make up most of her height, though this only lends to her
graceful appearance. Her body curves and swells attractively at her
hips and bosom, though not enough to be considered voluptuous. Her
skin bears a healthy tan. She has long graceful fingers, seeming
perfect for plucking the strings of a harp or painting upon a
canvas.
        At present, her hair is swept above her ears by golden
hairpins, the copper mass coiled masterfully on her head. Blue
sapphire studs decorate her ears, and a thin necklace with a single
sapphire in the center of her throat matches it. Her merh-silk gown
is a rich blue, its neckline rounded and scooping to reveal her
necklace. It hugs her body gently until her legs, where it loosens
to allow movement. Her shoes match the blue of her dress and have a
modest heel.

The Duke is only slightly startled, but recovers gracefully enough
to spring to his feet and return the courtesy. "Milady Mashinka...
what an unexpected pleasure to see you here." He inclines his head
respectfuly.

Adreysia's smile is bright and lovely for the Duke. "Thank you, Duke
Atreides. May I sit with you? I must admit that I know few people
here, and the Atreides are said to be so honorable... Who could I be
safer with?" She laughs with delight, her eyes sparkling.

"Nothing could please me more," Praxton replies pleasantly. He
gestures to the table, "I was a bit distracted with a speech that
needed writing...."
Bulova walks into the Imperial Hotel Lounge, alongside of a single
Venhei guard. He folds his arms at his chest as he sees the place
being quite empty. he invites his guard towards the bar.

Adreysia takes the sides of the dress and delicately seats herself,
smiling at Praxton. "A speech, Your Grace? Concerning what matters?"
She smooths her merh-silk gown and crosses her legs in a mannerly
fashion, smiling.

You take a seat at the window table.
Adreysia joins you at the window table.

At the window table, Praxton retakes his seat once the lady is
comfortable. "As you may know, milady, I am a member of the
Landsraad High Council. I will address the Congress when it next
meets in a fortnight on some pressing matters." He gestures for a
waiter, "A wineglass for milady, garcon, tout suite."

At the window table, Adreysia's emerald eyes grow wide with
interest. "Oh, it all sounds so important, Your Grace. I hope I can
attend. What matters do you plan upon bringing?" Her head tilts in a
feline gesture of question, her lips pursing.

At the window table, Praxton smiles and shrugs one shoulder in
charming dismissal. "Politics, milady... and of a somewhat
distasteful nature, not fit for proper discourse with a charming
young noblewoman." He caps his pen and tucks away the sheets of
parchment.

At the window table, Adreysia giggles softly, shaking her head at
the Duke Atreides. "Your Grace, you tease me." She leans forward a
bit against the table's edge, smiling at him. "You must forgive me.
I have been away from the palacial city for so long. It is all so
romantic!"

At the window table, Praxton quirks a brow, intrigued, "Romantic,
milady? How so?"

At the window table, Adreysia tilts her head again, smiling. "All
the intrigue and politics involved are just so... exciting! I love
being on Kaitan, in the 'thick' of it all. Don't you agree? Isn't it
incredible, seeing history being made?"

At the window table, Praxton can't help but smile. "I should think
it a rare opportunity, milady. And a great honor for us who serve
our Houses."

At the window table, Adreysia sighs lightly. "I only wish I could
have as great an influence as you." As the waiter returns with her
wine, she smiles at him and takes a delicate sip. "I am only a
concubine to His Majesty." She pauses. "Not even that any longer. He
has married the Lady Rastanyev, and she will not share him with
anyone. He allows me to stay in his Grand Palace now as... nothing!
A dressing of the court." She sighs again.

At the window table, Praxton grins and shakes his head in merriment.
"All women are alike, I see. My own bound concubine would flay me
alive if she thought that there were anyone else I fancy besides
her."

Anakiel enters from the hotel lobby.
Anakiel has arrived.
Fahahd enters from the hotel lobby.
Fahahd has arrived.
Cabal enters from the hotel lobby.
Cabal has arrived.
Fahahd just looked at you.

At the window table, Adreysia smiles lightly. "Yes, I suppose. You
have a bound concubine, Your Grace?" She leaves her wine unfinished
and folds her hands on the table's top.

Entering with a domineering look, albeit somewhat lightened by his
relatively good mood, is the Harkonnen Warmaster in what would
appear to be a rare visit. He casually scans the room, drinking in
its details with every facet of his Ixian eyes, as he slowly follows
Fahahd and Anakiel toward a table, presumably. His nebulous glance
falls on Praxton briefly, before moving on with his confident
stride.
Cabal just looked at you.

At the window table, Praxton essays a small, warm smile. "I do," he
replies, "she is currently on Caladan, caring for our infant son. I
miss her dreadfully."

Anakiel seems to have a table in mind, moving up to it and pulling
out a chair before going to stand opposite it and waiting. For the
Warmaster, evidently, as a glance is given to the
slightly-green-looking guardsman as if to request he join him on his
side of the table.

Fahahd certainly does look a bit peaked, as he waits for the
warmaster to seat himself. He's gone from his usual healthy fair
ivory to a rather greyish
shade. The green eyes are squinted against even the dim light in the
Lounge...the remains of what must've been an epic bender.

At the window table, Adreysia says softly, "Forgive me for reminding
you of your loneliness." She glances over her shoulder and looks
back quickly, shivering. "My goodness... Harkonnens. I was lucky not
to end up in their hands, as Emperor Jeon's favoured concubine did.
They bought her as a... slave!"

Cabal does indeed take the offered seat with little formality in it,
perhaps owing to his appetite. Once seated, his gaze begins floating
around again like a leaf in the wind, perhaps looking to see what's
for dessert later...

Cabal takes a seat at the blue table.
Fahahd takes a seat at the blue table.
Anakiel takes a seat at the blue table.

At the window table, Praxton glances at the arriving Harkonnen
party, and makes a small caricature of rolling his eyes. "They are
quite harmless, milady. I've found them quite predictable and
manageable, even the more ferocious ones."

Fahahd sits, with rather less than his usual grace. HE looks
attentively to the Warmaster, and folds his hands one the table
before him.
At the window table, Adreysia gently shakes her head, though her
smile returns. "I wish I had your confidence in dealing with them."
She stifles a giggle. "Did you see what happened to their mentat at
court? His Majesty's lion cub relieved itself on the poor man's leg.
I thought I would die laughing!"

Anakiel, on the other hand, seems his usual fluidly graceful self.
Not that he looks smug, or anything, rather, his expression remains
largely bland as he too takes a moment to glance about.

At the window table, Praxton looks almost amused. "I assume the
mentat in question didn't remain calm and collected at this turn of
events, did he?"

At the blue table, Cabal looks with mild disinterest at the menu
before him, apparently already having decided what he is going to
order, impatient from hunger, he says to his compatriots, "The
sooner we order, gentlemen, the sooner we eat. Just be sure to leave
room for dessert, I've seen some tempting morsels in here
already..." He spares a glance to Praxton's table-mate at that
comment, and chuckles to himself in a low rumble.

Ilyana enters from the hotel lobby.
Ilyana has arrived.
Ilyana quietly slips inside the lounge.

At the blue table, Fahahd gives the menu a cursory glance before
folding it closed and setting it aside. His only response to the
Warmaster's comment is a
thin, sharp smile, though he does let his gaze follow his superior's
to Adreysia. The concubine is favored with a raking look, before he
glances back at the blonde youth at his table.

At the window table, Adreysia tilts her head and laughs softly,
covering the bubble of gleefullness with her hand. "I couldn't see
his face. I was all the way in the back row. But I am certain he was
not pleased." She becomes a little more serious. "Did you hear of
Emperor Erich's betrothal to Lady Rastanyev? And the arrest that
followed?"

Ilyana just looked at you.

At the window table, Praxton says, "Only through reports and the
gossips, milady. I find His Majesty's choice a rather becoming one.
The Lady Rastanyev, whatever her House's current standing, or lack
thereof, is of quite spotless lineage." He takes a brief sip of
wine, followed by a scolding look towards the blue table.

At the blue table, Anakiel remains sort of blase about the whole
thing, simply noting those people seated and entering, then nodding
to the Warmaster. "I have already decided," the youth murmurs
softly. What, without even looking at the menu? Must come here too
much.

At the blue table, Fahahd nods quietly, putting his hands in his lap
instead. "As have I, my lord," The Leutnant murmurs demurely,
glancing down.
You paged Cabal with 'Let's have at it, then. ;)'.

Ilyana moves over to an empty table.
Ilyana scoots into the corner booth.
At the window table, Adreysia smirks. "Oh yes, impeccable breeding."
The young concubine obviously does not respect His Majesty's bride
as much as the Duke. "But she has quite a temper. I found her very
rude when I met her."

At the blue table, Cabal looks for the waiter with mild annoyance at
having to do so, and spots Ilyana in his search. With a distinctly
mischievous grin, he gestures her over to join them at their table.

Ilyana looks up in time to catch the gesture. A little color flushes
her cheeks as she returns to her feet and pads over to the table.
Ilyana leaves the corner booth.

At the window table, Praxton lifts both eyebrows in silent
agreement. "I'm afraid breeding is more often at odds with good
manners than it was of old."

One of the more obsequious staff members scuttles over to the
Harkonnen table, pen and pad in hand. "My lords?" he asks, softly.
"How may we serve you?"
Nickolas enters from the hotel lobby.
Nickolas has arrived.

At the blue table, Cabal begins without hesitation, "I'll have your
famous Hagalian Halabut, with pepper sauce. The usual accompaniments
with it, and some Hagalian brandy, say 10032 in year?" He rises then
to seat Ilyana next to him, leaving the waiter to continue taking
orders.

At the window table, Adreysia bows her head once. "I was glad to be
relieved of my status, in a way. I won't have to deal with her angry
looks any longer. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, hm?" She
retakes her wine glass and smiles, sipping.

At the window table, Praxton says, "Well, I couldn't really say,
milady. It would depend on how much milady coveted the position, and
what her future plans and dreams entailed..."

The waiter hastily scribbles down the order, then looks eagerly at
the younger men on the other side of the table, since Ilya obviously
hasn't had enough time to peruse the menu.
Ilyana sits in the indicated chair, folding her hands in her lap.

Nickolas smiles and walks over to gathered Harkonnens, seating
himself next to his pet.
At the blue table, Fahahd murmurs, quietly. "Feydograd merlot, if
you have any, and the venison steak." HE nods gently to Ilyana by
way of greeting.

Ilyana takes a seat at the blue table.
At the blue table, Anakiel murmurs, "Ojasta beefsteak, rare please.
With the trimmings, and a glass of Surayan rum."

Nickolas takes a seat at the long table in the center of the lounge.

At the window table, Adreysia waves her hand lightly at the Duke. "I
was given to His Majesty. The fourth daughter in a family of four
daughters on Garrashu. I received the short stick of grain, I
suppose. But I was glad to get away from that horrible planet.
Kaitan is so beautiful. Garrashu is so... depressing, in its own
way."

At the blue table, Cabal returns to his own seat after helping
Ilyana into hers, and begins casting his eyes about again.
Ostensibly, they drift discreetly back over to Praxton's table.

Fahahd leaves his seat at the blue table.
Fahahd takes a seat at the long table in the center of the lounge.
Ilyana leaves her seat at the blue table.
Cabal leaves his seat at the blue table.
Cabal takes a seat at the long table in the center of the lounge.
Ilyana takes a seat at the long table in the center of the lounge.

Nickolas chuckles and pats Ilyana on the arm, muttering something to
her.
Anakiel leaves his seat at the blue table.

Nickolas mutters to Ilyana, "... "Good... I... order..."

At the window table, Praxton says, "Ah. I understand. I can only
imagine what it must be to see this world of marvels through your
eyes, milady."

Ilyana smiles a little at Nickolas. "My lord." she says softly, by
way of greeting.
Anakiel takes a seat at the long table in the center of the lounge.

At the long table, Anakiel leans over to whisper quietly to the
guard seated beside him.
Nickolas's one good eye is bloodshot, and he looks rather haggard.

At the long table, Fahahd murmurs something softly back to the blond
youth.
At the window table, Adreysia smiles at Praxton. "All of the
residences are so beautiful. Is the Atreides diplomatic mansion as
beautifully decorated as many of these districts?"

Ilyana gives Nickolas a curious, sidelong glance.
At the long table, Nickolas mutters to Ilyana. "... ... ... ... ..."
At the long table, Cabal says to Ilyana with a coy smile, "... ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..."

At the window table, Praxton glances out through the window,
enjoying the view for a moment. "It's not quite as sumptuous as
many, milady. We prefer it that way. Our own architects tend more to
the clean and harmonious rather than the adorned and rich."

At the long table, Nickolas turns to gaze at Cabal. "... ... ... ...
... ..."
At the long table, Ilyana starts to order something from the waiter,
then stops short at Cabal's words. She blushes furiously. Clearing
her throat, she says softly to the waiter. "... ... ... ... ... ..."

At the long table, Anakiel is engaged in a bit of sotto voce
conversation with the beat-with-a-hungover-stick guardsman beside
him, leaning close.
The waiter is still hovering by the little clot of Harkonnen, trying
to conceal his impatience.

At the long table, Cabal snorts to Nickolas, "... ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ..."
At the long table, Fahahd is replysing softly to Ana, while rubbing
at one red-rimmed eye with his hand. He does reply aloud a bit more
loudly, "Bah..I could probably show her new tricks, judging by the
last of that kind I've encountered." He sniffs a little, before
dropping his voice to continue murmuring with Ana.

At the long table, Fahahd flicks a glance at Nickolas.
At the long table, Anakiel just smiles, in an uncharacteristically
sly manner.
At the long table, Ilyana shifts uncomfortably, falling silent.

At the long table, Fahahd mutters, "... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ..."
At the window table, Adreysia follows his gaze toward the window,
her eyebrows arching for a moment. She then smiles. "Could I see it
some time? I don't want to impose, Your Grace, but I have only seen
the Grand Palace. And that is filled from wall to wall with
portraits of long-dead Emperors." She laugh softly, making a light
joke. "But it is quite beautiful."

At the long table, Nickolas smiles wanly at Cabal "... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..."

At the long table, Anakiel chuckles softly, in the midst of his low
conversation with Fah. One -hopes- he's not going to randomly
clamber into the guard's lap. It would be embarassing.

At the window table, Praxton inclines his head, "Of course, milady.
Our Estate is always open for visitors of all Houses, as is our
Embassy for matters of business." A pause, then, "Does milady plan
to continue her residence in the Palace?"

At the long table, Cabal smiles to Nickolas with a certain sinister
implication to his tone, "Pray I am content to amuse myself with
her, Master of Horse, and not you as well." He shrugs dismissively
then and comments snidely though good-humoredly in his usual gruff
voice, "It seems Duke Praxton is not nearly as expeditious about
acquiring new weapons as he is women. Perhaps I should re-examine my
own priorities in that regard, eh comrades?"

At the long table, Anakiel glances over at Cabal, a ghost of a smile
on his soft lips, then settles back in his seat.

At the long table, Fahahd looks at the Warmaster with an amused
glint in his eye. "My lord, considering your betrothed...I'd wait to
be sure you can keep her satisfied, before you move to acquire more
females."

Ilyana glances briefly at the other table and back.

At the window table, Adreysia smiles at him, taking a sip from her
glass of wine and finishing it. She then places it on the table's
top and nods. "His Majesty has elected to let me keep my residence
in the palace. He was most kind. He must have mellowed from the days
of transition after Emperor Jeon died. But I would still love to see
your estate. Do you have paintings of Caladan there?"

At the long table, Nickolas chuckles, choosing to ignore the comment
for now..."So make an example of him to the other ..."

At the window table, Praxton smiles broadly and fishes around his
left waist pocket. "I can do you one better, milady...." He puts his
hands over the table, cupped around each other to conceal a small
object, a solido, perhaps?

At the long table, Cabal chuckles evenly, to Fahahd, "Her appetites
are far too ravenous for one man, Lieutenant, and it is the wise man
who realizes his limitations, and his skills." He scoffs at the
table in mild disgust at their inability to share in the spirit of
his celebration, and one gets the unsettling impression that he
might just as well shoot every last one of them under different
circumstances and in another setting. He leans back in his chair
then to relax as he waits for his meal to arrive.

At the window table, Adreysia opens her innocent eyes wide and peers
down at his hands, smiling. "Oh, what is it? I have only seen
pictures in filmbooks. I would love to see an artist's rendering."

At the long table, Ilyana just sits quietly, keeping her gaze
demurely lowered.
At the window table, Praxton smiles warmly and opes his hands. There
rests, indeed, a little solido, about the size of a sugar cube. When
the light strikes it, it projects an image above it, about a
handspan in width: a world, a perfect blue-and-emerald jewel,
exquisitely detailed, down to the polar caps and meridian deserts.

At the long table, Anakiel remains quiet and bland. He doesn't seem
to -not- be enjoying himself. And he's not hungover, which no doubt
helps matters. Cabal's comment receives a distant smile.

At the window table, Adreysia's eyes widen in delight. "Oh! It is
gorgeous!" she squeaks, her mouth falling open. She takes the time
to stare at it, drinking in every detail as if it were a glass of
spice wine. "Caladan looks so beautiful. I envy you, Your Grace."

At the long table, Fahahd chuckles, cheering up a bit more. "Indeed,
Warmaster," he agrees, glancing up at the waiter appears with a
large tray.
The various dishes are swiftly set before those who ordered them,
and the waiter remains at hand.

At the window table, Praxton's smile grows, and he too gazes at the
spinning image. "It's a thing I like to carry, when I feel homesick
or tired or lonely. It reminds me of duty, of family and home."

At the long table, Nickolas buries his face in his coffee and
drinks.
At the long table, Fahahd appears to have recovered enough to set to
his rare steak with apparent relish.

At the long table, Cabal idly casts a glance over his shoulder to
Praxton and Adreysia, and privately grins to himself at the
suggestive nature of their little interlude. However, his attention
on them is as lasting as a Corrino rule when the food is brought
out, and he wastes little time eating the sumptious feast before
him.

At the long table, Anakiel sets to, eagerly enough, mood improving
visibly as he devours the gently-bleeding hunk of meat set before
him. Num.
At the long table, Ilyana doesn't eat, for she didn't order anything
for herself. She watches Nickolas out of the corner of her eye.

At the window table, Adreysia blushes at the amount of eyes upon her
from the Harkonnen tables. "It is lovely, Your Grace. But I think I
will leave this establishment. The Harkonnen company is rather...
unnerving." She smiles uneasily at Praxton.

Praxton looks about him, deliberately sizing up the Harkonnen
contingent. Then, to Adreysia, "Yes, milady, I see what you mean."

At the long table, Fahahd is contentedly devouring his venison steak
in neat, quick bites. Must be a far cry better than what he receives
as daily rations.

Adreysia gives the gathering of Harkonnen a more subtle glance,
haughtily tilting her chin as she turns back around and murmurs to
Praxton.

Fahahd catches the lady's glance, and simply grins crookedly for an
instant.
At the window table, Adreysia says, "Would you care to come along,
Your Grace? You can escort me to my limousine, if you like."

Anakiel seems to have a rather slyly thoughtful smile, himself,
but...it doesn't seem pointed at the table from whence the snooty
looks come, but rather slightly past it.

Nickolas laughs softly "She does indeed look a treat, Lord Cabal,
but you know what they say about appearances.."

At the window table, Praxton bows his head regally, "It would be a
rare honor, milady."

At the long table, Cabal remarks between bites to his comrades as he
hears something akin to a parrot squaking behind him, "Excellent
food here, despite how untasteful it is when prostitution occurs
around it."

At the long table, Fahahd nods, his own his expression blandly
innocent. "Indeed, my lord," he affirms, glancing momentarily beyond
the Warmaster.

Adreysia rises from Duke Atreides' table and smooths her gown,
casting a pointed glance at the Harkonnens and fetching her
communication device from the table's top. She holds out her hand to
His Grace, waiting to be escorted.

Nickolas sighs "So much for a floor show, I guess?"
Ilyana sits quietly, save for a quick glance at the other table.

Adreysia leaves her at the window table.
Anakiel deliberately works on his steak, blandly ignoring the
departing nobles. The guard beside him gets a fond (yet still
slightly sly-looking) smile, however, for no real apparent reason.

Fahahd offers innocently, "I don't think I'd be much good at
table-dancing, in my current state, my lord."
You leave your seat at the window table.

Anakiel offers helpfully, "If my lord wishes it, I could oblige with
such."
Nickolas glances at Fahahd. "I dunno, you've the legs for it.."

Fahahd sighs, mock-ruefully. "But they're all over scars, m'lord."

Praxton extends a hand to Adreysia, in the exemplary manner of
old-fashioned gentlemen. And the look in his eye shows he's quite
aware of it.
Fahahd just looked at you.

At the long table, Cabal intones eagerly to those seated with him,
"Shall we tip them? I believe I have a few loose Solaris somewhere.
Perhaps they could get a room with it..." He stuffs his mouth then
and washes it down with brandy.

Adreysia puts on a thin smile and takes the offered hand, bowing her
head to him. She prepares to follow.
At the long table, Fahahd sniffs slightly, and nods...watching the
pair leave.

At the long table, Nickolas leans back in his chair, his mood
seemingly improved after the coffee, and reachs out to stroke
Ilyana's back. "... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..."

You pass through the arch and enter the hotel lobby.
Lobby -- Imperial Hotel (Kaitain)
Adreysia enters from the hotel lounge.
Adreysia has arrived.

You leave the hotel.
Adreysia emerges from the Imperial Hotel.
Adreysia has arrived.

Adreysia gives a gentle shake of her head. "Those beasts. I cannot
stand their stares." She gazes at Praxton, smiling at him. "I
suppose I must learn to ignore them, Your Grace."

"As all bullies, they take pleasure from causing reactions," Praxton
states. "Milady is too conscious of herself yet to stand alone
amidst them. Yet it does raise my bile to see an innocent so
discomfited."

Adreysia smiles, gently patting the Duke's arm. "You are such a good
man, Your Grace. I am sorry to have deprived you of your
speechwriting time. Do you need to return to your work?"

Praxton replies, "Only to pick up my chattel and pay my tab." And
settle a small score, his narrowed eyes speak.
Adreysia's head tilts. "Oh, I see. Will you give me a tour of your
estate on Kaitain another time, then?" She continues to smile her
lovely smile at him.
Praxton returns a warm smile. "Of course, milady. It would be a most
welcome distraction."

Adreysia's smile fades a little, having wanted to see the
architecture tonight. "Of course," she says to him, releasing his
arm. "I look forward to it."
"As do I," replies Praxton. "I thank you kindly for your company,
milady. It was more than pleasant."

Adreysia raises her communicator to her dainty lips and whispers for
a limousine, smiling at Duke Praxton Atreides.
Adreysia has left.

You enter the Imperial Hotel.
You pass through the arch and enter the hotel lounge.

Lounge -- Imperial Hotel (Kaitain)
The lounge of the Imperial Hotel serves as a more casual alternative
to the prestigious dining room. Even though simply decorated
everything is of the highest quality. The tables are made of the
finest dark hardwoods of the Imperium. Exquisite paintings are
spaced evenly along the walls. Portions of a cloth tapestry lies
behind glass frames behind the bar. The meta-glass window on the
south wall provides a view of the Circle of Stars. Servants stand
ready to answer the needs of patrons.
Players:
 Nickolas                                           Ilyana
 Cabal                                              Fahahd
 Anakiel
Exits:
 Arch <E> leads to Lobby -- Imperial Hotel (Kaitain)
 Corridor <NE> leads to Dining Room -- Imperial Hotel (Kaitain)

At the long table, Cabal charges the dinner to the Embassy when the
waiter comes around to present the collective bill. With that, the
Warmaster rises and offers a bow with a flourish to excuse himself,
"Enjoy yourselves. I must return to some matters that await me at
the Embassy. It was a pleasure having dinner with you all."

Praxton returns to his table by the window, calmly gathering his
paper, attache and pen. He then turns to the Harkonnen table.
"Warmaster Cabal. A word, if I may?"

Fahahd's posture shifts instantly from comfortable relaxation to a
keen tautness, his former sloppily amiable grin vanishing. His voice
remains even, however, "Certainly, my lord. Most kind of you to
permit us to come along."

Cabal looks to Praxton with mild amusement, but those that know him
well also know how short-lived such amusement is with him. Offering
a perfunctory bow to the Atreides Siridar as is proper etiquette,
the Warmaster returns, "For the Duke Atreides, I give two words."

Anakiel looks up quietly at the Atreides, sipping the remnant of his
rum in silence.
Nickolas still remains reclined in his chair, his hand on his
slave's back.

Ilyana inches a little closer to Nickolas, looking a little
distressed.

"Then I will be brief, Warmaster," Praxton says pleasantly. He
approaches the Harkonnen to a proper, yet close distance. In a low
voice, he says, "If you ever... for no reason better than your
amusement and that of your uncouth band... disturb my peace... I
will make you wish your bitch jackal of a mother had borne
cross-eyed twin-girls conjoined at the hip rather than your stinking
hide. And that the man you wish were your father had had his loins
mauled by the donkey he was fond of copulating with. That is all I
have to say."

Fahahd still has his leashed-hound posture, as he glances at the
Warmaster, eagerly awaiting his response.
Ilyana visibly cringes. It rolls downhill, so they say, and she is
the lowest in station here.

Nickolas slowly and mesuredly shoves Ilyana to her knees and beneath
the table.
Ilyana lets herself be pushed to the floor. She crouches at Nick's
feet, fearfully.

Simply smiling, Cabal returns calmly at first, but his words grow
louder and more intense as each fires from his mouth and the smile
fades from view like coming night, "Either challenge me, or Shut
That -Impotent- Hole you -COWARDLY- WHELP OF AN EXCUSE FOR
SIRIDAR!!!" He literally spits that last word onto Praxton.

Fahahd's gaze flicks to Praxton...reminiscent of the ancient game of
tennis.
Praxton's eyebrows rise ever-so-slightly at the Warmaster's tone.
Otherwise he is unmoved. His hand does not come near his shield
belt, and his posture is steady. He replies calmly, "Then we
understand each other?"

Anakiel simply observes the exchange with a remarkably bland
expression. He doesn't even look tense.

The Warmaster shakes his head, leaving his Ixian eyes unmoving on
his target. "Not quite, Duke. Either withdraw your...reckless and
foolish insults, or accept my challenge. And think carefully on it,
Siridar, for I will not be as merciful to the hapless idiot you send
to his death in your place as I would be to you. Acquiesce, or
suffer public humiliation to satisfy my honor - I doubt you would
receive such a generous offer from anyone else, but I am remembering
My Lord Baron's friendship with you."

"'Only gentlemen may duel', says the Code," Praxton replies, his
voice steely. "And judging by this evening's behaviour, your are no
more gentleman than the poor flayed wretch who cleans your Lord
Baron's orgy chamber."

In a loud, commanding voice, Cabal announces, "I, Count Ferrel
Cabal, Warmaster of House Harkonnen, challenge this peasant Siridar
of House Atreides to a duel! If he is half the noble My Lord Baron
is, he will meet me himself, blade to blade. But I will of course
observe the forms if he cowers behind a champion to die in his
place."

"Heard and witnessed," Fah replies, not even giving the Warmaster's
words time to die away.
Nickolas says softly "So witnessed."
Anakiel just sort of nods.

"Declined!", replies Praxton, his eyes narrowing. "There is no honor
in slaying a bully who lowers himself to vituperating innocent
noblewomen in a place of public discourse." He pauses for a moment,
then nods his head in perfect form. "Till next we meet, Warmaster,
adieu." To the others, "And a good eve to you as well. Your tab has
been arranged."

Ilyana peeks out, still visibly shaken.
Cabal mocks Praxton as he leaves, "If it talks like a coward and
runs like a coward, kill it." He grins in the attempt to goad the
Atreides Siridar once more.

Praxton exits the Lounge, rejoining his stunned and shaken escorts
near the door.

You pass through the arch and enter the hotel lobby.


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