[Star Wars] Errant Adventure

[CrimsonSprite]

"Be a good boy and do as your father tells you. I love you and I'm going to miss you so much!" Sonya spoke softly to her son, Jagre, named for his father. Although, her son would be traveling incognito and all his papers would identify the toddler as Trystan Fontaine. It was for his safety that, shortly after his birth, Sonya had tapped into old resources and called in some old favors to have a legitimate alter identity established for her son.

Sonya handed the boy over to his father. Gosh! It was uncanny how much they resembled each other. Sonya smiled slightly, reaching over to sweep some errant strands of jet black hair out of her son's eyes. Jagre Sr, leaned in to press a kiss to the woman's cheek. "You have nothing to worry about, love. I'll take excellent care of him and he's well protected with the clan."

"I know. It's just ... he hasn't been more than two feet away from me since he was born." The woman explained, smiling at her boy who was staring in awe at his father's profile. "I'm terrible at good-byes. So go. Shoo! Please call me though once you arrive on Mandalore so I know you're both safe."

Jagre promised and gave the mother of his son one more kiss, this time to the forehead, along with a gentle caress of her cheek. Oh how he loved her! He loved her then and he loved her even more now, but their happiness together was apparently never meant to be. He knew how much she loved him, too, but he couldn't give her what she needed, what she deserved. He was still getting established in his roots, learning more and more about his Mandalorian heritage and embracing it fully. Until he completed things he felt he needed to complete, he could not love this woman properly.

"Trystan" waved bye-bye over his father's muscular shoulder. The toddler looked so small and fragile against his father's rigid, muscular, well-built frame. Sonya waved back, biting back a sob and lodging it in her throat. Jagre would have their son with him for the next three or four months, with regular calls to remain in contact and to keep her updated. Sonya didn't know what she'd do with herself for that period of time. She hadn't truly been alone.

Ever.

Suddenly it dawned on her that she could soak for hours in a steaming hot bath if she wanted to. No overtired child outside of the bathroom door screaming to high heaven because she had the door not only closed, but locked as well for a few minutes so she could grab a quick shower or pee in peace. She could come and go as she pleased and not have to pack up a small bag of the child's things in case he had an accident or scraped a knee. She could sleep late in the morning and not be woken by the sounds of Castle Creep, the kid's favorite animated cartoon.

The more she thought of what she'd be able to do now that her son would be away for a few months, the more excited she became. As evidenced by the smile on her face which grew wider and broader with each selfish little thought. "I could take a vacation and go to the spa," she said softly out loud. At this revelation, her eyes grew a bit wider, her smile reached from ear to ear, and she felt the excited flutter of butterflies tickling her stomach for a brief moment.

The feeling of guilt was ebbing away and Sonya turned to hurry from the Borleias spaceport so she race home, pack, and return to the spaceport to catch a flight. To where? She had no idea. She could think of a destination while she packed! Or, she could wait until she returned to the spaceport, close her eyes, and tell the fates to select it for her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~


"How may I help you?" The attendant behind the counter at the spaceport asked, her tone dull and her eyes never once leaving the computer screen.

"Give me a round-trip ticket on whatever the next luxury starship is leaving the port." Sonya said as she rifled through her over-sized purse to dig out her identification papers; the ones identifying her as Genevive Fontaine, her alter identity. Ever since the Empire attacked and overthrew the seated government of Corellia, Sonya's lived as her alter ego, figuring it's safer until the forces opposing the Imperials can gain the upper hand and restore peace to the galaxy. Or so she hoped. Had she not witnessed the Empire's destruction first hand she might have felt differently.

"That'll be seventeen-hundred-twenty-five credits for a first class cabin aboard the Errant Venture. She's leaving in twenty-minutes so if you hurry, you can catch her."

Sonya's head snapped up. Not at the cost but at the relatively minimal amount of time she had to get to the other end of the spaceport to board the ship. Of course it had to be at the complete opposite end of the spaceport. "Fine, I'll take it. Here, swipe it fast and let me get going."

The woman behind the counter took the credit card, ran it through, and handed it back. Sonya could tell the woman hated her job and probably was pissed to be working the weekend. It was quite obvious in her attitude and demeanor. Smacking her gum lazily, eying Sonya from over the rim of her bifocals resting at the end of her nose, the manner in which she purposely moved a wee bit more slowly when it came to swiping the charge card and reaching for the receipt print-out for Sonya to scribble her signature upon. Then the final tearing of the ticket from the printer and the snapped flourish in which she handed the ticket to Sonya.

"I'd wish you a nice day but I can see it wouldn't do any good," Sonya snarked at the woman while jerking the ticket out of the woman's wrinkled and age-spotted hand, then made a mad dash across the spaceport. She gave up apologizing to people and beings she inadvertently whacked with her purse or smacked with her suitcase. There were just too many of them. "Wait!" She called, waving her ticket in the air over her head as the attendant at the gate was about to close it. Sonya thrust her body between the narrow opening and her bags got caught. "Sorry," she breathed breathlessly while shoving her ticket into the attendant's face and struggling to yank her bags through.

After reading the ticket over, the attendant jerked a thumb - at least Sonya thought it was a thumb - in the direction of the boarding ramp that was going to start pulling away any minute. "Right. Thanks!" Sonya darted off up the long and narrow hall, skirted across the boarding ramp and made it through the doors just seconds before the ramp began to withdraw.

"Stub please," she was asked by one of the staff assisting in getting their traveling guests settled on board.

"Oh yes, here it is." Sonya dropped her suitcase and handed the stub over while adjusting her over-sized purse upon her right shoulder. Finally organized and caught up with her own self, she smiled as the man showed her which hall to take and instructed her on which elevator to take and which floor to get off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Time to have some fun!" After getting herself settled into her cabin, showering, and sexy-ing herself up, Sonya hit the floor! The gambling floor, that is. Aboard the Errant Venture the Maw Casino was in keeping with its namesake. One of several casinos aboard the ship, the Maw Casino's walls were painted black to swallow up light like a black hole. The tables surfaces were of silver, curved glowrods along the outer edges, and there wasn't any overhead lighting. Instead, servers wore clothing and jewelry that glowed in the dark, making the entire casino a scene from the Maw itself.

The decor made the Maw Casino the perfect place to meet someone in relative secrecy. Except for Sonya. She wasn't here to meet anyone, didn't know anyone on board, and well .. she was just looking to have a good, relaxing time. This would also be a wonderful distraction from missing her son. Or so she told herself. She had to chuckle quietly unto herself as she circled the floor once, checking out the games and deciding what she wanted to play first. She had first met Jagre in a casino located on The Wheel space station.

"May I join?" She asked a table of Sabacc players once their hand had finished. A gentleman nodded and motioned toward the vacant seat next to his with a slight wave of his hand, after giving the woman the once-over that Sonya hadn't even noticed. Smoothing her mid-thigh length skirt against the backs of her thighs, she sat down and tossed her ante into the center of the table.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~


Several hours, several drinks, and several rounds of Sabacc later, Sonya was spent! Her cheeks had taken on the gentle rosy hue of being flushed, several strands of chestnut hair un-tucked itself from the french twist she'd had it in, and she had a fit of the giggles a little more often than even she cared for. She'd had just a wee bit too much to drink and one would think that would have affected her card playing. Perhaps it had, but not in the way her opponents would have liked. The woman cleaned the table by winning the last seven of eight rounds.

"Thank you {hiccup}... gentlemen. But I must call it an evening,' she said cheerfully as she scooped her winnings into her hand-purse then cashed them in.

"Ah, looks like the lady was lucky tonight,"the cashier said with a charming smile. "Would you like me to credit your account for the full amount? It'd be safer than walking around the ship with this much on hand."

{Hiccup} "Oh! Pardon me. Mm. Please. No, wait. Give me a few hundred and put the rest on my account please."

The cashier did as she requested. "Would you like security to escort you to your room, Miss?"

Sonya didn't think that was truly necessary. After all, there were security cameras in the hallways and more than likely they were actually recording and/or being watched by security personnel elsewhere. Right? "No, thank you. Good night." Sonya blushed. Her footing wasn't all that even and she did her best to fake it as she made her way back toward her cabin. Though ... the halls she was taken didn't look familiar, nothing was ringing a bell. Oh great, she thought. I'm drunk enough to have gotten myself lost.

[CrimsonSprite]

The Errant Adventure. An extravagant Luxury Liner. 1,000 credit meals, high-roller gambling, high-class lounges. Truly a ship for the elite. Except it wasn't all glamorous. Naturally the greedy Corporate leaders would offer accommodations for all kinds of guests. The sad fact is, you got what you paid for.

And Ren hadn't paid for much. He sat in his cramped room staring out the tiny view port at the vast nothingness of space. His "Economy Suite" had one small, uncomfortable bed, a box that they told him was the dresser, and a small vase with dead flowers for decoration. It didn't even have a separate bathroom. He had to share it with all others who couldn't afford the more extravagant upper-class lodgings.

At least he was free to explore the ship. He likely wouldn't be able to do much, because naturally everything cost credits. But, this trip wasn't about enjoyment. He hadn't gotten on this ship for the fun. Ren had been drifting for a month, ever since things went South on Mustafar. He'd actually hopped onto the Errant Adventure On Alderaan. He'd taken up these pathetic lodgings... and gotten a job.

There were not a lot of things Ren was truly skillful at. He couldn't take a job in Maintenance. He wasn't particularly good at repairing anything, on the contrary, everything he touched broke. He couldn't really join the Piloting staff, he wasn't qualified, though he was certain he'd be able to do it, if they showed him how. But, you need a specific Certificate of Qualification to fly a ship of this size. He could have taken a job in any number of the shops on the ship. But truthfully he wasn't the biggest people person, and most of those shops already had a full staff.

And so, he'd joined the Janitorial Department. He swept and mopped the bars every night. Scrubbed the walls. Unclogged toilets. He was essentially a maid. Why the job couldn't just be done by Droids like they were everywhere else? Evidently the Captain of the Errant Adventure wasn't a fan of them. Plus the Corporate Big-wigs probably were too greedy to fork over the initial credits to buy a staff of Janitorial protocol Droids.

But he wasn't complaining. It gave him the credits to pay for his room and to feed him. And he could afford a nice game of sabaac or two. A lot of his money went to the bars. He'd never been a big drinker. Even living on Nar Shaddaa, nothing had ever pushed him to consume alcohol. He could, he just never felt the need to. That changed after those events on Mustafar. He found himself in a bar almost every-night. He'd only ever have a drink or two, never enough to get hammered. But just enough to punish himself. On the nights he did get hammered, it wasn't for the fun, for the feeling of being drunk. it was for the hangover he'd have the next day.

These days he hated himself more than anything. He had nothing. He lived on this ship. He worked on this ship. He'd probably die on this ship. He had no ambitions, no desires. He hadn't planned a length to this self punishment. He figured he'd just do it till he felt it was time to stop. He never counted on anyone stopping it for him.

"Ren, we've got an Overflowing toilet down at Club Main. It's your turn. Go have a blast." The voice crackled from his comm unit. Groaning Ren grabbed the unit, stuffed it in a pocket and left his cabin. On a ship of this size, it was a wonder toilets didn't clog left and right. But such was the wonder of Modern Technology. The wonder was that they clogged at all. You'd think after centuries of civilization someone would have made an un-cloggable toilet.

Club Main wasn't too far from Ren's cabin. He made it there in less than 5 minutes. He had the toilet unclogged, cleaned and the floor mopped in 15. Now.... he had nothing to do until the next call. He decided against going back to his cabin. He left the Club, and set off in a random direction. Walking the halls was always nice. You got to meet new people and mumble mean things about them under your breath. That was fun to Ren these days. He didn't do it to be vicious. He just imagined little scenarios in his head that would somehow make their lives somewhat less than perfect. For example, he'd decided that a big time Banking tycoon who was accompanied by a very young Twi'lek was cheating on his wife. But that was ok, his wife was swindling his money and cheating on him as well. With his Intern. Why these little things amused Ren , he had no idea.

But tonight as he walked the halls he came across a woman who was very obviously drunk. And judging by the look on her face, lost.

"Excuse me Ma'am. Are you ok? Do you need any assistance? I can help you to your room if you need it." Ren asked. Even with the self-hate, he still found the decency to at least try to be helpful.

[CrimsonSprite]

The thought that she had actually lost herself on the way back to her cabin amused her to no end. Mainly because she never got lost before. Sonya had a good sense of direction, but whatever was in those drinks she had .. wow!

"I think I'll take you up on that offer, sir." Ren was greeted with a relaxed and amused smile, accompanied by a giggle from the woman. Had Sonya not known any better, she'd swear she was even getting drunker as the minutes ticked by, but that wasn't possible. She hadn't had a drink in at least ten or fifteen minutes now so the effects should be beginning to slowly even themselves out and not becoming more unbalanced.

"Only ...." Sonya leaned back against the wall and furled her brows, deep in thought. Chestnut eyes turned back on Ren . "I can't remember the room number." She sounded astonished at such a notion. Then she erupted in giggles again. "Oh please forgive me, sir. I'm never like this and it's been a very long time since I've thrown caution to the wind," at this, Sonya threw her arms wide in the air. Hopefully she didn't accidentally hit Ren . "... and have allowed myself to enjoy myself." She was trying real hard to act sober, something which she most definitely was not.

She'd regret it in the morning as soon as the hangover kicked in, but for now she would enjoy being footloose and carefree. "What's your name?" She asked, then blinked. "For that matter ... what's my name?" Giggle fit again. She should have known better than to allow herself to become this far gone. One never knew when danger would rear its ugly head and a sharp mind and even sharper reflexes would mean the difference between life and death.

Elsewhere Aboard the Errant Venture

He had put the fee for the room, one of the most elaborate and expensive rooms, onto his credit card. He managed to not think much of it, when the monthly plan rolled around he'd have more than enough credits to write it off. Hell, when next month's statement came along he could probably write it off, because then it'd be his own business....or he'd have more than enough credits to when he sold the ship. He wasn't sure which one; the luxury liner was fun, he could see while Marx had bet anything on a card hand to own it.

He poured himself another glass of expensive wine, and lit a cigar as he looked in the mirror. One dull grey eye stared back him, the other just blinked red and dull, matching the metal on his face. Shin reached for his com-link and waited for the last seconds of the clock to tick down. "Proceed to phase One."

[CrimsonSprite]

Ren reached a hand out to steady the incredibly drunk lady. He knew what it was like to be so wasted you had no idea where you were. He'd done it a few times himself in the past month. Something he'd never done before it.

"My name is Ren Miss, not that it matters, you'll likely not remember it in the morning. Heck, it could be for the best you don't remember it." He paused. "As for your name... I haven't the faintest idea."

Ren glanced up and down the corridor for anyone who may be able to help identify the woman, and locate her room. Being as late as it was, it was empty. Ren sighed to himself. With no name he couldn't find out the room number. He had several options. He could drag her around, asking various people if they knew who she was, he could take her to the ships med-bay where she could either stay the night, or be given a cruel concoction that would Sober her up immediately, but more than triple the pain of the Hangover, this was something Ren had done several times. He found he hated the pain just enough for it to be a great self-punishment. Though truthfully, the staff in the Med-bay was far more likely to do the latter,they were not a cheery bunch and seemed to get a twisted pleasure in their evil Sober-up concoction.

Or, the final option, he could take her to one of the few Empty Cabins on the ship, and wait for her to sober up. Ren decided to save her the Humiliation and pain, and started leading her towards one of the empty cabins.

"Right this way ma'am, we'll find you a safe place to rest till you sober up."

The cabin was not far, and once Ren got to it he opened the door and slipped inside. He switched on the lights and looked around. It was far nicer than his little room down in the lower class decks. It was as good a place as any. "Here we are ma'am. Why don't you lie down and rest. Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can get you whatever you need."

Ren sat down on a little sofa and put his head in his hands. Why was he doing this? Why should he help out a complete stranger? he should have just dumped her on Security. That would have been easier. But what good would it do? It'd only free him up to go drink his own brains out. What was his life becoming? All he ever did was drink and unclog toilets. To think he'd actually been a sober, free, adventurous kid only a month before... how that trip to Mustafar had changed him. How it had changed his life. He missed Volya so much... yet he knew it was better this way. Safer for her, safer for him...

Ren looked up at the Drunken woman then, curious to see what she would do. It struck him how odd it may seem to her, that he'd taken a drunken woman he didn't even know to a deserted ships cabin. He hoped she wouldn't get the wrong Ideas.

[I. Price]

Vyse was still getting used to the suit. Uniforms of any kind always had a period of adjustment with Vyse before he got comfortable in them, most of the time a period of years. Except for the Old Republic's; for that one he hadn't spent enough time to ever get comfortable in his formal wear. For the New Republic, or the rebellion as he still liked to think of it, he had finally managed to wear the uniform with a sense of pride. Not that he had ever told anyone that, of course. Had he seen himself in the suit he was currently wearing though before he had left, he might have never taken the leave of absence.

Most of the security guards who patrolled the Venture wore their standard uniform. A button up shirt with the ships logo over the left breast and a pair of dark pants. Around their waist they carried shock sticks and walkie talkies and some mace. The ones that worked the casino dressed a bit fancier, like the rest of the casino staff, but different enough to distinguish them from the regular employees, so they were treated with a little more respect than the people cashing in the chips. Vyse though, since he was Chief of Security, had to wear the same thing all the others department heads had to wear for staff meetings. Which meant every time there was a meeting between the cruiser's heads, he felt like a complete tool.

He had liked Marx Ventraise, the current owner of the Errant Venture. The two had gone back a number of years, and if you ever needed a place to find a quick job for some easy credits (as long as you didn't mind the legal ambiguity that came with the work), Marx was the man to go to. Marx's qualities as an information broker was only matched by his ambition, that was until a few years ago. Marx had been the target of a violent hit, he took three blaster bolts to the chest, and he had survived, after extensive surgeries, bacta treatments, and physical therapy. After that though he had resolved himself to fly under the radar and developed a few....well, Marx was still rich enough to call them eccentricities and not plain weirdness.

So that's why Vyse walked through the main office of the security units in the ghastly suite. He, like everyone else who was a head of one of Venture's departments, wore a white, blue button up shirt, and a black tie. He supposed if he was human, or at least full blooded human, he wouldn't have minded the attire so much. But the colors of the suit only seemed to highlight that he was not entirely human. He had made peace of the fact that he was something different, but he still liked to blend in with a crowd every now and then. The suit just always brought attention to his blue skin, far too much for comfort. He glanced at the monitors and sighed, oh well, at least it was free, he thought.

And then he stopped at one of the monitors and stared, distracted by what he had gone through in the meeting. Muggins were up, more than that unsolved muggins were up. Which should have been impossible, with all the cameras they had stationed aboard. Which meant that the security department had a mole somewhere, giving thugs (probably also employees of the ship) knowledge of their blind spots. Or worse, they had tampered with the security footage enough to fool the slicers they had on board, or they had infiltrated the slicers and paid them off not to find any irregularities. There was nothing like a little criminal conspiracy to make your job more interesting.

All that was forgotten though as Vyse eyes landed on one of the faces of the camera. He instantly barked an order to bring up any and all information on the woman. Genevieve Fontaine, well at least her alias hadn't changed since the last time he had tried to look her up. She had checked in by herself though, where was her son? Probably with the father, a spiteful voice reminded him from the back of his mind. He also ran a check on the man with her, but he let out a sigh of relief when the check came back. He was one of the casino's employees, a turd wrangler as a matter of fact; Ren Tarker . Vyse nodded, glad that it wasn't a boyfriend and that a solution to two different problems had revealed itself.

“Dreg, you're in charge until I get back.” He called to the Sullustan who served as his Assistant Chief of Security. He was in such a hurry to leave, Vyse didn't notice one of the technicians bring a hand to his ear. He nodded to a silent command and began to type into his console.

Vyse spoke into his own comm as he walked down the halls, he hadn't been paying enough attention to know which empty cabin they were going into. Vyse wasn't concerned though; there was nothing in the background report on Ren to suggest that he was some kind of date rapist. And even if he was, it would take more than a few drinks before Sonya Ghente wouldn't be able to fend herself off from some lowly pervert. When he got the message of the room number he waited outside a moment and took a deep breath. He heard a faint humming sound and realized it was the sound of the artificial toes running too fast again. He took another deep breath before forcing a grin and burying the conflicting emotions.

“Her name is Genevive Fontaine,” Vyse lied, but it was a lie Sonya had apparently decided to live. And besides, if need be he would do a lot worse than lie for Sonya. “And believe it or not, with a name like that she is not in the porno industry. Her room is quite a ways from here, and she is very, very, drunk despite any insistence to the contrary.”

Vyse was sure that she would recognize him, even though his appearance had changed a bit since she had last saw him years ago. If the suit wasn't enough, his bleached hair had been traded in for long dark locks pulled into a pony tail, but that would change back to the original as soon as this job was over with. And of course the metal toes, but the shoes blocked that from her. He still had the scar of course though....oh and the blue skin, that wasn't something you came across often without the red eyes. Vyse pulled his id badge out from around the string on his neck and slid into the room's computer slot to make the room smoking before he lit a cigarette, and so they wouldn't be drenched from the fire's suppressing units. He showed it briefly, to both of them, and an introduction the stranger.

“Vyse Toraez, Chief of Security.” He sat himself across from Sonya. “How have you been, luv?” He then glanced to the other man. “And Tarker, you interested in working in security?”

[CrimsonSprite]

Sonya pouted. If he doesn't know my name ... and I don't know my name ... Finishing that thought was just a little too depressing for the woman in her current state. Not to mention it was also impossible. Chestnut eyebrows furled with worry and she looked to the hand curled gently around her bicep. Ren informed her that he was taking her to a safe place until she sobered up. For all she knew, his idea of a safe place was his cabin. "Hey, hold on. I don't put out on the first date, Ren." Then she paused and wondered aloud. "Or do I?" Whatever. She giggled, then realized the decor had changed. The lights were brighter and there were things to sit on! Sonya kerplunked herself down on the sofa and struggled with kicking her shoes off. Finally she realized she had to actually put forth some effort and undo the small straps herself.

"Ugh. Renaldo? No. Renquist.. Re.." Sonya sighed while stifling another round of drunken-induced giggles. "Sir, Aliha sel valle volgoth?. I mean ... Oh frak it." Her accent, which clearly screamed she was Corellian, became thicker and more pronounced in two situations: a.) being drunk, and b.) when angered. She also had a tendency to fall back to speaking the old language which had been taught to her ever since she could remember. Her father grew up speaking the old tongue and had insisted that his daughter, his only child, know it fluently as well.

She looked to the arm rest. It'd make a good pillow. Maybe. "Maybe I should just lie down for a minute. Sorry to be ruining our first date," she said. Of course Ren and Sonya were not on a first date or any kind of date at all. He was just a cruise ship employee helping out a woman who was not quite right with the world at the moment due to having imbibed just a wee bit too much. "Do me a favor, eh? Say you'll respect me in the morning, even if it's a lie." Sonya stretched out on the sofa and laughed at her own stupidity. Only she thought she was laughing at her own stupid joke. "And remind me to never do this again, Ren . Can you do that?" By this, she meant getting drunk.

Lying down, though it was more like slumping over sideways, Sonya continued to prattle on in the old language, though most of it wouldn't make any sense even if someone could translate it or knew the dead language themselves. "Ooo! Now that's a pretty name," she said as she heard someone say that some woman's name was Genevieve Fontaine. Eyes still closed, she pushed herself back up to sitting on the sofa. The room was spinning, at least that's what it felt like, and she pressed a palm to her forehead. As if that would stop the spinning. Then she frowned. "Ren , why would you say that? Just because someone has a beautiful name like Genevieve Fontaine - rolls off the tongue nicely -- doesn't mean they're a porn star!" Sonya broke out into a fit of laughter, though. "Okay, maybe it's a shame she isn't in the porn business. A name like that would garner her much attention on the casting couch, eh?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, she opened her eyes, finally realizing that they had been joined by another. She thought the voice sounded familiar but passed it off as wishful thinking or a trick of the mind. There was no way in hell Vyse Toraez was aboard the ship. She looked right at him, too, but recognition didn't set in immediately. "How do you know where my room is? Are you my da--" The skin color, the eyes. The way he said luv. No. The way he addressed her as luv. Only one person in the entire universe had ever spoken to her in that way. "It can't be. That's ... that's impossible," she said in a whisper while standing from the couch. Took her two tries to manage to get to her feet though. Still a wee bit wobbly.

The hair color was different. "His hair was blond. And shorter," she said, more or less trying to convince herself that the Chiss standing a few feet away from her was not Vyse Toraez but another of his race instead. This man had hair of black and it was longer, tamed neatly in a ponytail. Then she saw the scar. What were the chances that a Chiss other than Vyse would have a scar in the exact same place? The woman didn't even glance at the security badge being flashed as proof of identity. She was too mesmerized by the visage of the man seating himself in one of the chairs. It was so overwhelming, or perhaps it was the alcohol, but Sonya Ghente's eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted to the floor.