Chapter Text
“More champagne!” Ar’alani dictated to Thrawn as she generously filled his glass once more. She had to lean a little over the table to do it, and she got quite a few not-so-subtle appreciative looks from the fellow revellers in the bar.
Thrawn smirked, he was sure she knew what she was doing. Leaning on the table just so, in a way that meant her skirt never rose higher than she wanted to but still displayed an ample amount of thigh. Her back bending in a way that showed she was flexible but still in control. She sat gracefully back down in her seat, and pretended to brush a hair out of her face, despite the fact her hair was perfectly gelled back in such a way it could never move out of place.
“What’s the occasion?” Thrawn asked, referring to both her showy little display and the copious amounts of champagne she had been supplying him with. “What are we celebrating?”
“Another successful close.” Ar’alani explained, as though it was just some casual sale and not a major million dollar investment. “All goes to plan and we can start the development of the new site before the new year.”
“Another one?” Thrawn almost gasped. He took a sip of his champagne to collect his thoughts, but it tasted bitter on his tongue. “How many is that this month alone? Surely we can slow down?”
“Oh, you just don’t want to go on this trip.” Ar’alani laughed, and she gave Thrawn the most scathing eye roll as she did.
“Well can you blame me? I shouldn‘t be freezing my balls off surveying land, I should be taking it easy in my nice corner office.” Thrawn huffed. His newly decorated office as well, his art dealer had come across some truly amazing Wrens and of course the entire office needed to be remodelled to match their energy. “Why is this my job all of a sudden anyway?”
“I can only imagine Palpatine either trusts you more than anyone else at the company, or doesn't trust you at all.” Ar’alani speculated, taking a thoughtful sip of her champagne. She sighed a sad sigh and swirled her drink in her glass. “He’s bit of a useless old fart don’t you think.”
“I do. But find me a CEO that isn’t.” Thrawn sniffed. The joining of Imperial Empire and Chiss Association had been rough for some, and the frankly abhorrent and useless head of Imperial Empire, Palpatine had not made it easy. But hopefully, now that both companies were starting to see good results, tension should ease and it should all be plain sailing from now on.
Ar’alani merely shrugged and downed the rest of her drink in an angry swig and placed the glass back on the table with a motion that was just little too aggressive for Thrawn’s liking. Not that he felt Ar’alani couldn‘t do as she wished, he was fine for her to throw glasses around as she wished, but it was such a fine, perfect looking crystal champagne flute, it was like watching someone miss-handle art.
The entire bar could be regarded as art really. From the deep crimson plush suede seats of the booth, to the bespoke marble tops of the tables, creamy white and flecked with gold. Just similar enough to match the floors, but not the same. Not in a way that would cause one's eyes to grow tired of the decor too soon.
The chandeliers where a particular point of interest to Thrawn. At first, they could just be dismissed as, well, chandeliers. Impressive in size and they twinkled like stars against the darkened ceilings, but chandeliers are ten a penny in this city, and it was easy to just assume it was from the same place all the other high-end bars get there lighting form.
But, Thrawn saw more than just what was presented at a first glance, and he studied his own champagne flute to make sure. He felt his breath hitch as he admired the fine details on the stem and to his delight the pattern matched up.
He gazed at the chandelier above him with new found wonder. Having a chandelier made bespoke to match the intricate interwoven pattern of the glassware just showed the bar had truly spared no expense. It was remarkable.
He just wished the place didn't have a huge garish Christmas tree in the corner lowering the tone and dragging such a beautiful place down to tacky commercial level. He was just taking the time to properly analyse the tree, and decide how much hatred to give it, when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.
“Surely if I am to be up early for my trip tomorrow, I should really slow down on the drink, no?” Thrawn pointed out, placing a hand on over his glass before Ar’alani could get close enough to refill it.
“You can’t get hungover from expensive champagne.” Ar’alani pointed out with a smug shrug. “And this is very expensive, very good champagne.”
Sensing there would be no arguing with Ar’alani when she was like this, Thrawn moved his hand to the side and let her refill his glass. The bottle trickled to a steady drip and Ar’alani rolled her eyes at it as though it had run out on purpose.
“You there.” She called out to the bartender, snapping her fingers impatiently. He glanced up immediately, looking eager to serve and so pleased to have been summoned. Thrawn wondered if the young man simply loved his job or, was he just being paid a lot to look happy to be there.
It did matter either way, and he nodded in understanding when Ar’alani held the empty bottle aloft and tapped her fingers impatiently on the table. The two of them sat in silence as the bartender hurried over with another bottle, opening it gracefully and pouring Ar’alani a glass in a most prim proper way.
Ar’alani raised one eyebrow and pursed her lip, watching and scrutinising his every move. Luckily the boy was well trained and he poured the champagne better than Thrawn could have done it himself. There may have been a few wobbles here and there, but that is to be expected with a champagne as wild and bubbly as this. He was quite handsome anyway, so all was forgiven by Thrawn.
“So, what is the real reason we are drinking?” Thrawn asked when the bartender had finally left them alone.
“It’s Christmas.” Ar’alani shrugged, but all Thrawn had to do was give her that look, that look that told her he knew her quite well by now and if she was going to lie, she would have to lie better. “It’s very stressful.” Ar’alani sheepishly confessed.
She closed her eyes and just sat for a second, as though the thoughts were still accumulating in her mind. She had the most striking eye shadow on, bright red and detailed with scarlet glitter that shimmered and almost looked alive under the twinkle of the lights. Like she was still looking right at you even with her eyes closed.
“At least you get to stay in the office and not be stuck traveling to the arse end of nowhere.” Thrawn chuckled, partially to attempt to lighten the mood, but mostly because he was still furious. “I’ve never even heard of this Lysterine place?”
“Lysatra.” Ar’alani corrected him, opening her eyes and allowing a smirk to slip out. She could never resist correcting Thrawn. And who didn't, the opportunity arose so rarely.
“I’ve still never heard of it.” Thrawn shrugged, taking a sip of champagne. Strange, it didn't taste so bitter anymore. It tasted like the very stars themselves. If he were a more whimsical man, he would admit champagne always tasted better when you were smiling, but he was not a whimsical man. He was a cold and calculated man and decided it must be the bartender's fault, and he would not be getting a tip.
“That’s the point, people can‘t care about what they haven't heard of.” Ar‘alani laughed, raising her glass as though to toast the company's policy. “If you build a controversial mall in an already oversaturated city or plonk a big ugly building down in a beloved bit of countryside, you’re the evil capitalist villain who only cares about money...but, place it in a rundown unknown area...”
“And we’re the heroes who brought life and prosperity back to a forgotten hidden gem that is soon to be the next big thing.” Thrawn grinned and he rose his own glass to toast Ar’alani’s. “Still, I'd much rather be doing it from the comfort of my office.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Ar’alani sighed, her face falling as she suddenly remembered just why she was so upset. “It’s all falling apart back there. Some...inconsiderate bitch has decided to hand her notice in, and just leave us high and dry before Christmas!”
“She’s decided she just cannot bear to be without her children, so she's leaving work to become a full-time mummy to her precious widdle sack of shit.” Ar’alani scoffed, and she spoke with such bitterness and hatred.
“Disgusting.” Thrawn agreed. “Although, some people do like children.”
Thrawn himself had a soft spot for children. Not enough to ever have one himself, but he must admit whenever he saw a sweet clumsy crayon portrait of a family or handmade card proudly displayed on an employees' desk, it did make his cold heart thaw a little.
Ar’alani herself had weakness for little girls, the stronger and more stubborn the better. Just the other week she was nearly brought to proud parent-like tears over a stubborn little girl scout who would not be lowballed on the price when it came to selling cookies.
“Perhaps.” Ar’alani sighed, and she blinked sadly at the champagne, “Do you think we should, you know? Families and that?”
“We? As in us two?” Thrawn laughed. “Because if you think there is ever a chance you and I will settle down and start a family, I’m afraid I have some very sad news for you regarding my orientation.”
“You know what I mean.” She tutted, giving him and swift kick under the table as punishment for his facetiousness. “Should we have found people to settle down with by now, made homes and made kids.”
“We made careers.” Thrawn responded bluntly. “People with kids don’t get to sip champagne in a VIP booth on a worknight now do they.”
“That’s true.” She smiled. She did this sometimes, got second thoughts, had doubts, but she was never lost for too long and Thrawn knew he could always count on her to be there for him. “Still, could be nice to at least find someone to share it all with. You are lovely my dear, but I'm afraid you don't quite scratch all the itches.”
Thrawn chuckled in appreciation at her little joke. Perhaps she had a point, why had he made his millions if only to have them hanging on his walls as decorative pieces and not invested in a partners happiness or child's future. Perhaps another person would make the apartment feel less cold and clinical and more cosy and comforting. Perhaps champagne would taste sweet all the time and Christmas would be something to look forward to instead of being this painful stack of obligation he never wanted to oblige.
Or, perhaps lovers were more trouble than they were worth, and Thrawn was better off looking out for himself and his career. And no one else.
“I’ve honestly never thought about it.” Thrawn lied and he downed the rest of his champagne.
“You don’t want someone to keep you warm at night at least?” Ar'alani asked, clearly thinking she had found some clever trick question to trip him up. It didn’t work, of course.
“I have someone to keep me warm at night.” Thrawn smirked and his eyes came to rest on the handsome young man who had caught his eye the moment he entered the room. “Him.”
Then, with a clever turn of his head and smouldering look, Thrawn had caught the man's attention. And with a sultry smile and soft lip bite, the man was heading his way.
“It’s just that easy or you, isn't it?” Ar’alani sniffed, folding her arms in some sort of petulant tantrum.
“Yes.” Thrawn smirked. “It is.”
The sun was just starting to rise when Thrawn stepped out of the shower. The city skyline was streaked with pink, orange and gold as far as the eye could see.
Thrawn left his towel in the bathroom. The underfloor heating was doing a great job of keeping the apartment warm, even on this frosty December morning, and it’s not like anyone was likely to see Thrawn as he strutted naked around his home. That was one of the perks of living in a penthouse apartment.
One of the many, many perks.
The man who had shared a bed with Thrawn last night was already gone, leaving nothing but a slight dip in the pillow to show he had ever been there at all. Thrawn smiled at the sight. He hated it when they tried to stick around, it was just awkward and unpleasant for everyone involved and he hated the way their faces dropped when they realised they were just another notch on Thrawn’s lavish and luxurious bedpost.
No, at least this one understood the arrangement.
Thrawn had just emerged from his walk-in closet when he saw something on the bed, and to his utter disgust it was a hastily hand written note. He rolled his eyes so hard it hurt as he scooped it up, expecting a phone number or a hopeful note wishing for a second date that would never come.
“Hey last night was fun. Don’t worry about paying me for the uber, but I would love it if you could follow me on Instagram at-pfft.” Thrawn scoffed and he screwed the note up into an angry little ball and tossed it towards the bin in the corner. He missed, missed by a lot, but it’s not like it mattered. The housekeeper would be by later and she could pick it up.
Dressed in the suit he thought the most appropriate for today's excursions, Thrawn headed into the kitchen, where his coffee was already waiting for him. He observed the room as he so often did as he took his first sip of coffee.
He had to admit the apartment was looking a little sparse. The walls were of course lined with the most prestigious art he could buy, and every available surface and shelf had a beautifully crafted sculpture. But there were no personal touches. No family photos on the wall, no memorabilia from his youth.
He should probably get a Christmas tree at least. Thrawn made a mental note to ask his assistant to do it later, after consulting his interior decorator of course.
Thrawn grimaced as he drank his coffee, and allowed himself an uncouth little curse. He had spent thousands on high end coffee machines at this point, yet he could never quite get it right.
It always tasted burned somehow, like it was too hot or stewed for too long, no matter what settings he put it to. He could never get it as smooth or as creamy as they did in the coffee shops and it always felt a little synthetic and cheap, no matter how much he spent on top-of-the-line coffee beans and grounds.
Thrawn gravitated once more to the wall of windows in the apartment, watching as the sky turned bluer and brighter. He would be sad to leave the city, even if it was only a for a short stay. Hopefully, he could get this job done as quickly as possible and be back before he started to miss the city too badly.
Eager to get on with his journey, and more importantly to get it out of the way, Thrawn tapped the button on his intercom that linked him directly to the concierge.
“A good morning, sir.” The concierge greeted him, as he did every morning. Thrawn shut his eyes in annoyance as he realised he had once again forgotten the name of this concierge. He felt it was something like James or Jack or something terribly common like that, but he would have to have his assistant double check before he sent out the annual Christmas tips.
“Good morning, erm.” Thrawn mumbled, forcing himself to remember but as it happens his memory was fuzzier than he thought. He was terribly upset about today's assignment and it was likely that he had drank more than was strictly necessary last night. “Last night, did I remember to ask you to arrange a car for me?”
“Yes sir.” The concierge confirmed, and to Thrawn's fury, he didn’t elaborate.
“Yes, good.” Thrawn said, forcing himself to make pleasantries. “Er, which one?”
“The BMW sir.”
“Ah yes.” Thrawn swallowed. “But erm, which one?”
“Oh, they er Deisel one sir.” The concierge explained, lowering his voice slightly as though it was some great secret. “The black one, with the blacked-out windows.”
“Oh good, yes that’s the right one.” Thrawn said, congratulating himself, or more his inebriated self, on his good work. Not his usual choice of car. He preferred the small smart electric cars that made no sound and caused no fuss, but he had a long drive ahead of him and he didn't feel confident about the number of car charging ports he would find out in the wilderness. “Good job, well done.”
“Will there be anything else sir?” The concierge asked, his voice full of pathetic desperation.
“Yes, actually there is.” Thrawn said, his face screwing up at the bitter aftertaste his coffee had left. He looked over to where he left the cup on the counter. He could put it away, but he would hate for the housekeeper to have nothing to do. “Can someone go fetch me a coffee from the artisanal coffee house on the corner.”
“Of course, sir.” The concierge, and his simpering eager to please voice was starting to get on Thrawn’s last nerve. “Is there something wrong with your coffee machine?”
“No, it’s fine, just not the best.” Thrawn explained. “And I never settle for anything less than the best.”