(no dupes) Too many sweets. Just. Too many.

[directordisaster]

After the weapons' test on Jedha was a great success, that night (or what passes as "night" on the Death Star) Krennic is en route to his personal quarters to do a little private celebration. Technically, he throws a party in the officers' lounge, the one for high-ranking officers (although of course the petty officers and tech people are welcome to celebrate in their own lounges), but he avoided coming there right now since he heard that the Grand Moff is there, stealing his spotlight. Krennic knows that he can't possibly avoid him forever, but a drink or two from his own personal collection, and he would be gold dealing with his archrival and the bane of his existence. However, when he exited the turbolift to his level, he came out in a...strange place instead of the usual corridor with stormtroopers patrolling through it.

He ended up in the Plaza of the Nexus. He was first confused, then irritated, and started asking around (demanding more like) about where in the stars he is, and got the same explanation. Krennic couldn't really accept it, thinking that this was some sort of a weird dream or a holographic prank someone played on him (most likely Tarkin, to keep him out from his own party celebrating his own greatness), but while he is still in the phase of denial, a random someone foisted him with a bag of sweets, telling him "Happy Halloween" and left before Krennic could accost him, and then another, and then another. In the end, he ended up with too much sweets--foreign sweets that he had never even seen before--his hands full of it, and what's worse, one of those idiots who forcefully gave him that told him that he had a nice costume. They think he was dressing up for this weird "Halloween" event, whatever the kriff it is.

He should probably sit down, or drop all the sweets, or better yet, throw them to somebody's face since that's how infuriated Krennic is right now, but as it stands, he's currently standing in the middle of the plaza with hands full of sweets. Someone please help him. 

Comments

[directordisaster]

Well, it's been a while since he ate something sweet, and those things are pretty much banned in the Imperial Military, and Krennic's chosen main vice is alcohol, so this is something of a chance to introduce a little variety in his life. He did hope that Xevozz wouldn't notice, though. "Oh, I see," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic about this conversation. Orson Krennic wouldn't be Orson Krennic if he's genuinely interested in whatever other people was saying that wasn't about him or his achievement. "And this...Azeroth. Where is it? As far as I understand, the Nexus is a meeting point of different universes and worlds, or so I've read before I got foisted with sweets, but is it a planet? A system? A city?"

It's a good move on Xevozz's part not to divulge his criminal information. Krennic doesn't particularly liked criminals, although ironically, he is a war criminal himself. The irony level is over the roof here.

"Oh, of course," Krennic said, suddenly becoming very interested in the conversation. As he had previously said, he was aware to some degree that he was in the Nexus, but it did not yet hit him how far he is from his own galaxy (which, by the way, is also far, far away) and he's only started to realise that the person he's speaking with wasn't entire human. But at least they seem courteous and intelligent enough. "It's called Project Stardust, and we had just levelled an entire city with it from orbit. Although of course this is top secret, classified information. But it is my life's work," he smiled, a little wistfully, to himself than to his conversation partner. "And we're in the Nexus now or whatever, aren't we? So it doesn't matter all that much, I suppose."

[back_in_business]

A keen businessman does his best to notice everything. Even if he doesn't seem to have eyes, or... any facial features, really. Still, there's something about the tilt of his head that suggests vague amusement. From one liar to another, he gets the impression that Krennic is faking some of his enthusiasm. That's fine by him; the less he needs to divulge about himself, the better. Still, he goes through the trouble of answering his polite inquiry. "You are quite right about the Nexus. As for Azeroth, it is a planet. Outland was a planet formerly known as Draenor until there was an unfortunate incident involving the Burning Legion and a cursed orc. Now it is merely the shattered remnants of its former glory."

The interest Xevozz shows when the conversation turns to Krennic's accomplishment is quite genuine. He leans in a little, hands resting loosely on his hips. "An entire city?" he repeats, clearly impressed. "That is quite a weapon... ah, I don't suppose if you could tell me if there is any arcane energy involved, or if it is purely based on technology? I realize that your project is classified," he adds quickly to smooth past any potential reluctance, "But as you so astutely noted, we are in the Nexus, and not your home universe. Any sort of non-disclosure contract is null and void here."

[directordisaster]

It only started to occur to Krennic that he was talking with something completely alien, and that the other doesn't seem to have eyes, or any facial features whatsoever. He immediately took a step aside, and a wave of revulsion swept through him involuntarily. They were taught to dislike and distrust aliens, in the Empire, especially in the military, where it comprises of mostly humans and non-humans are discouraged from enlisting. And if they do, they usually couldn't--or wouldn't--be able to hold a high rank, except for one particular alien in the Imperial Navy.

What Xevozz said next confirms his prejudice and suspicions. The...creature...came from another planet, and there was something called a Burning Legion and an orc there. Krennic doesn't like the sound of this either. He simply nodded. "I see. That sounds...terribly unfortunate."

He doesn't want to press this part of the conversation, because, quite frankly, Krennic doesn't care. Now that he realised that the other person is an alien, and one without any facial features at that, he just wanted this conversation to be over with. But of course, true temptation lies in talking about his achievements. And this alien was obviously very interested, too, of his achievements, although Krennic doesn't trust him. "Any sort of non-disclosure contract might don't matter here, but I am still bound by my oath of secrecy," he smiled, slightly. "Still, I will tell you what I am able to tell you." he paused, choosing his words carefully. "Why, it is purely based on technology, of course. Which is why it was a giant leap not only for the Empire but also for the entire human species," he seems proud, lifting his chin a little higher. Once a smug snake, always a smug snake. "There is no magic involved. That has died away, along with the Jedi when they betrayed Emperor Palpatine. Pure superstition anyway."

He doesn't mention that the Emperor has an enforcer that is very much capable of doing some very arcane things by his standards, but Krennic would rather not think about Lord Vader. He's pretty much a nightmare for Imperial officers.

[back_in_business]

There's no missing that growing look of disgust on Krennic's face. Xevozz is used to it, honestly, although often it is after he reveals his true line of work -- war profiteering -- than due to his race. His strange appearance could have been shrugged off earlier, but Xevozz does not bother to hide the glowing violet light that leaks through his enchanted bandages.

He isn't offended, however. Disappointed, maybe, that he has likely lost a potential point of sale. But that doesn't mean he can't have a little fun.

Dropping any pretense of discussing his home world, he instead pays close attention to the information the man is willing to divulge. "I see," he rumbles thoughtfully. Then he sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. "That is a shame to hear, Director. I have found that the infusion of arcane energy into any sort of technology enhances it spectacularly." He leans in as if to confess a secret, knowing full well that Krennic will find it irritating. "Otherwise, it is no better than the slipshod inventions of gnome engineers."

[directordisaster]

Well, Krennic, after all, is one unusually expressive Imperial--a disadvantage in his line of work--and one can hardly hide disgust when faced with something so alien, especially when one has been indoctrinated to distrust and dislike aliens and alien-like beings. He definitely wanted nothing to do with Xevozz, now, and his gloved hand curled into a fist at what the other said next. He doesn't know what the kriff a gnome is, but it could only be an insult, and if there is one thing Krennic wouldn't stand, it was insults to his achievements.

"I don't know what the kriff you're talking about, alien," he spat out, narrowing his eyes at him. "But you are not only insulting me, you are insulting the entirety of the Galactic Empire. We are strong because of technology, not because of...arcane energy or magic or whatever it is you are talking about. You wanted to talk about magic? Look at the Jedi," he hissed, angrily. "They are extinct. Proof that 'magic' could only lead to weakness and extinction."

[back_in_business]

Very good, Krennic, he did intend for that to be an insult. What human wants to be compared to an undersized race of tinkerers? Nothing personal against the gnomes, of course, but their technology did have a way of failing in the most destructive of ways. Not at all reliable, not like Ethereal technology.

"Ah, my apologies," he replies with a rolling chuckle. He would not normally be so cavalier at insulting a high-ranking official of an empire, as that would be terrible for business, but he's likely already burned that bridge purely by the nature of his race. Besides, this is the Nexus. What influence does this man have without his beloved empire to back him up? "However, I can't help but notice a flaw in your argument. You speak of the Jedi, but they are merely wielders of this magic, yes? The magic itself, that cannot be extinguished. The air teems with it. Latent, plentiful arcane energy, just waiting to be harvested."

The air crackles around him briefly, leaving the distinct smell of ozone. "If you choose to ignore such an integral part of your universe, dear Director, then I'm afraid that your clever little invention is doomed to fail."