I couldn't help but chuckle as I stepped into the cool lobby of the Hotel. Poor Paula. I hope she doesn't kill him. I walked over to the front desk, gave my name and was promptly given a key and escorted to a twelfth-floor room.
To say that the room was spacious was to say that Wookies had hair. What I was standing in was an oval, over-large sitting room, really. The plush carpet was an off-white colour - off-setting the cream-coloured walls nicely - and I imagined that it would feel very nice on bare feet. The floor was split level; a wet bar stood on the raise level, 'against' the wall opposite the main door. On either side of the bar, a few paces away were two doors, which I guessed led to the bedrooms. They were the only doors, so I presumed we each had an en-suit 'fresher.
On the lowers level, just off the center and facing my left, there was a very large, comfy-looking couch with two over-stuffed armchairs placed around a glass coffee-table, all of it facing what looked to be a fireplace that could easily be turned into an entertainment center. Gotta love technology.
Behind this was a kitchen area, designated by tiles instead of carpet. There was all the usual things one would find in a kitchen, and a breakfast nook to boot.
I don't know who the New Republic had to kill to get this room for two WAASers, but I'm sure glad it wasn't me. I turned to the retreating escort and asked, "Are all of the rooms for the WAAS party like this?"
"Yes ma'am. Each Senatorial Suite has been booked for that very purpose."
Odd...I thought the Senatorial Suites were further up...oh well. Why am I complaining? "Thank you." I tossed him a few creds for a tip and watched as he left.
As the door slid shut behind him, I sighed, Force-tossed my bag to the right-hand bedroom door and walked over. I palmed open the door and was not exactly surprised at what I found: A large, king-sized bed with night-tables on either side, a walk-in closet to my right and the 'fresher door to my left. The bed was covered in a downy comforter that was a powder-blue. The colour-scheme in here abounded in blue, all of it soft. Even the tiles in the fresher were blue and white.
I hastily unpacked my belongings and hung them up in the closet. After a quick shower, I dried my hair and slipped into my casual-est outfit; a white, ankle length, cotton skirt - tight at the waist only, it clung to my hips and then flared delicately - it had a slit up both sides, both being concealed as I moved and as I stood still; a shirt, short-sleeved and cropped short, just like the one I had worn on my trip, only azure instead of white. This shirt, instead of being tight, was actually loose and I tied it off with a piece of white cloth, letting the long ends hand over my right hip.
I left my hair unbound and only tied half of it back loosely, allowing strands to falland frame my face. My makeup was subtle and barely discernable. I finished off by slipping on white, soft leather riding boots and strapping my 'sabre to my right thigh.
I looked into the mirror and snorted. "Oh Force. I look like the room..."
Continued in 20