Log:My Fair Uli
Stavros is more of a minority here than on most of Nar Shaddaa, being nonhuman, but he's close enough that he's able to 'blend,' insofar as someone with his coloration and hair can be. He's on a bench in front of a shopping center, one specializing in giving a taste of human haute couture without completely breaking the bank. He kicks his foot idly, waiting for his rendezvous.
It's easy to tell that Uli is feeling better, just by the way he moves. He's not limping anymore, and while he's still stiff, he's back to his long, quick, purposeful stride. His hands are dug in the pockets of his leather jacket. Stavros is pretty easy to pick out in a crowd, so once he spots him, he makes a beeline. "I don't know about this," he says when he's within earshot.
Stavros stops humming and stands up when Uli finds him. "It's good to be able to fit in at places where people are richer, right? Think of it as a business investment. As -me- making a business investment, because I'm covering it. Let's go," he turns toward the doors. As they slide open, he gives a wave to the employee guarding the door. "How'd things go with Yvie?" he asks quietly, as they pass through the sections for female humanoids towards those who possess a more masculine appearance - or want to appear to.
After they pass through the door and security eyes them, he leans in towards Stavros and mumbles, "You're lucky I never shoptlifed from this place." Because there are certain places that are very suspicious of him, even if they don't have enough to bring charges. "You know, I never understood why they put the male stuff at the back. And what do the sentients with very little sexual dimorphism do for clothes?" Funny. He doesn't really seem like the kind of guy who'd know what sexual dimorphism means. Probably his sister's influence. "She's pissed, but hungover and not in the mood to fight." Wonder why THAT is? "So it's a long fuse."
Stavros winces at the description. "I'm sorry," he says again. "I really thought I was helping." As they pass rows of dresses and the occasional woman going through the racks or being assisted by a clerk, he asks, "Dimorphism?" No idea what that means, but he -does- think "The women's stuff is near the front because it draws both men and women's eyes." Eventually they arrive at a formal subsection of the men's section in the way-back of the establishment. He smiles at the attendants there, one an older-looking man in a traditional, conservative, and perfectly-tailored suit, the other a younger woman in a black skirt and orange blouse. "Well, here we are. My friend needs something he could wear to a soiree - and also more towards the semiformal end of things. Something he could wear to a nice club and impress people in. What color do you like, Uli?" They really do seem to have a broad selection.
"You know. Differences between sexes. Some species look really different, and some look a lot alike. Like uh..." Uli tries to think of an example. "Wookiees, for little dimorphism. I guess humans have quite a bit, but not always." He shrugs. "Yvie knows a lot more about it than I do."
When they reach the clothing section, he looks around and exhales sharply. "I dunno, man. I've owned the same jacket for ten years. Brown? Blue?" He tosses up a hand.
Stavros eyes Uli's complexion. "I'm thinking blue for something formal - dark blue, though," and he looks to the older man. "Something that tells everyone he's a man of business. Classical, right?"
The older fellow in the suit looks Uli over. "I think the shoulders- yes- and pants should be... right." And he walks off to gather blues in the Corellian formal style.
"Now, something less traditional, more hip- it might even work with that jacket sometimes! - but I'm thinking you need nicer slacks and a new pair of shoes. Find some pants you like- she'll help, I'm sure." Her cheery smile indicates she is prepared to do so.
"Honestly, I've never shopped for anything other than a shirt or two that wasn't 'I can afford this and it fits.'" Which is likely to make the staff wrinkle their noses in disgust. Which...was kind of Uli's point. But still, Stav is being nice enough to foot the bill, so he'll do his best to cooperate. He goes with the woman to try and find pants. He keeps going too casual and she guides him back again.
So, several suits later - you need to choose the right material and color and pattern, you see - Uli has one that looks more legit than he really is, most of the time. But that is the point. He also has some pants that are not meant to deal with stains. They might even require maintenance, unlike the rest of Uli's wardrobe. Also there is a sturdy but classy set of shoes that could go with either the Corellian suit or the more casual pants - or even step up his everyday look with a bit of chic. Stavros offers a credit slip to the older man as the woman bags it up.
So it is, a few hours later, that the pair find themselves outside this art gallery. Stavros is still psyching up Uli. "It's okay, you've got this. Smile like you have a secret. Think of it as - market research!" Yes, the Zeltron is pushing the bounds of plausibility here, as he soothes his friend. They're standing a few dozen steps away from the event proper, straightening their clothes and talking, eyeing the nearby people.
To Uli's credit, he's doing okay not looking horribly uncomfortable in the suit. He's standing up straight and he's not pulling at the fitted bits too much. He's used to clothes that you can move in. In the end, it's a pretty classic dark blue suit with a white shirt underneath and no neck adornment. The only bit of flash is a touch of gold on the tips of his collar and a pair of cufflinks. "I suppose you'd get mad at me if I picked pockets tonight? But seriously man. This is a prime event for it. No one's got their guards up."
Just stepping into line at the gallery, Sion Corvara takes quiet stock of the scene. She's plainly not the only one dressing up for this event; it looks like most of the crowd is glad-ragged out to look at artsy stuff.
Eh, it's for a good cause. And she had the outfit already. Carrying her reliable old DH-17 in a shoulderbag, on the other hand, definitely isn't a comfortable as wearing it on her hip.
Not everybody is quite up to the same level when it comes to fashion, though. The man nearby in the blue suit and white shirt isn't so bad, but the Zeltron in the zoot suit... two primary colors at once isn't so bad to a swoop racer, even one who's been off the track for a while, but the more fashion-conscious might object. And even the swoop racer in question can't help lifting a hand to her lips to hide a smile. The amused twinkling of her dark eyes is less easily hidden.
"They won't be on their guard because there will be _guards_," Stavros warns, straightening his coat and stepping up behind the woman in the leather skirt. "Hello, miss. Coming without an escort?" He shakes his head slightly, but he's grinning broadly. "Entrances are everything. Uli, you need to enter on her left, I'll enter on her right, everyone get to the same beat- I'm Stavros Niarkos," the Zeltron says, offering to take Sion's hand. "This is Uli Gosse. We're going to walk in like we own the place, okay? What's your name?" Then Stavros is chivvying everyone forward, scarcely with time for introductions to finish.
"Why are we here anyway, Stavros? Is this part of some grand plan to remake my image and make me look like a big shot?" A beat, and Uli's eyebrow goes up. "Or are you just trying to score some free canapes and pretend like you care about stuff?" He looks to Sion and adds, "I'm sorry, Miss. He's just...like this." But in spite of himself, he says that with a smile.
Having looked away to avoid being caught staring, Sion blinks and looks up when someone speaks to her... and finds herself looking into the face of the Zeltron in question! "Escort? I brought my own pro..." she starts to say, but he's not even slowing down. "Um, my name's Sion. Nice to meet you, Stavros, Uli... hey, careful! This outfit's secondhand!" Chivvied forward, she meets Uli's apology with a tolerant, if hassled, smile. "I guess you're used to it?" She claps an arm down over her shoulderbag, just so she doesn't lose it in the sudden rush to the door.