Re: The Summons - Jaerad's Office
Days had past since he first became a guest at The Queen of Air and Darkness. The staff was helpful, as was his most gracious host but those facts never discounted the dismal truth. In a way, the wonderful casino had become a cage, a jail in which to find a modicum of amusement outside of the negativity that presently filled an otherwise bleak existence. When Joron's pager sounded for the very first time, it came with more than any small amount of surprise. Like a call to arms, his eyes flickered to a nearby desk and stared in what very well may have been disbelief. So, the Crime Lord finally had need of something, a service that was, perhaps, catered to his skills.
And that in and of itself was a frightening thing.
What kind could Jaerad Kienaan, a master of the underworld on Nar Shadda, truly need help in achieving? Crime Lords were, if anything, elusive and most powerful creatures. To ask for outside aid, especially his, seemed almost odd but in a place filled with deceit and trickery who better was there to turn to than a man who grew from the duplicitous seeds that tainted an otherwise haughty and vainglorious earth? He had an hour, one standard hour, to see to any and all needed preparations. But how or what was one to prepare for, outside of the meeting itself, when the message came with grave uncertainty?
Footsteps traveled from one end of the room to the next. A door opened but it was neither to a closet nor the entrance. The deep silence of Joron Sarrus' suite died when water poured from within his shower. The water, like meditation, was a means in which to relax, to feel the weight of unease wash from his mind like the very filth that left the skin. When finished, he adorned his well-toned physique in stylish yet utilitarian clothing that was concealed by a hooded black cloak. Overall, it seemed perfect, at least...it seemed perfect to Joron, who now sat idly by, lazing on the sofa as he awaited his escort.