The Citadel Cantina is located on the second level of the Arcona Citadel. The bar itself is small on the surface, but possess an expansive selection thanks to a clever servos-operated storage system built into the underside of the bar. A bartender only need punch in what drink they require (other than the typical stock) and within a minute the bottle is distributed transparisteel display panels. Relaxed, soothing music plays over the speakers, and a big-screen display terminal with access to the holonet sits across from a series of comfortable lounge chairs and stools.

The Cantina is full-service and is manned by a gruff, one-eyed Rodian named Mick. Mick is a grumpy, former sergeant who served in the Arcona Armed Forces years and years ago. He goes about his business with a series of grunts, gestures, and monosyllabic dialogue. Though a man of few words, he's a genius of alcoholic beverages and mixology. Mick has a very strict rule about no fighting or brawling within the Cantina. The mess hall, on the other hand, is a different story.

The Cantina opens up into a dedicated mess-hall that can hold up to a hundred sentients before it starts to feel claustrophobic. Open at all hours, the mess-hall has been sanctioned as an acceptable area for members to settle aggressions and other frustrations. The tables are all firmly bolted into the halls floor to avoid being thrown over, and are crafted out of durable material that has held it’s own throughout the years. At the far end of the mess-hall there is a pair of double-doors that lead to the kitchen and storage area. The mess-hall is maintained by a full staff of droids, and occasionally a new recruit who has earned the ire of the Rollmaster.

Bass thumped through the speakers, heavy and hypnotic in the heat of stifling, scotch-flavored air. The lights had been dimmed low to make way for the flashes of color and bursts of brightness that accompanied each beat of the synthetic soundwaves. Drinks flowed freely, wine bubbles filling the air as easily as cigarra smoke, low, intimate chatter, and raucous cheering.

The usual bartender had been given the night off, on someone's order. Instead, a young, handsome humane juggled glasses and drink orders behind the bar while all manner of pretty little things murmured to him and other patrons. Mundane and Force-user alike mingled in the strobe-broken darkness tonight: under it all, after all, they were just the same bodies, shimmying and crying.

K'tana moved through the crowd, alternatively slipping between people like a shadow or drawing every eye as she pleased. The music strummed in her veins, piano tapping to her step, bass beating to her heart, brass winding along her bared skin. The room was dark, the air was smoky, the stage lights were hot, and the song someone somewhere was belting out was even hotter.

The Twi'lek leapt up onto a table and began shaking her hips to the music. Her head whipped from side to side, the curls of her long, beautiful lekku flickering around her dolled-up face. Her body rocked and swayed and rolled while she danced, sometimes snappy, sometimes sexy, depending on the beat.

K'tana was lost in it. The music replaced her thoughts, the makeup filled in for her expressions, and the sparkly, tight dress kept her legs from going weak. Here, she could dance and flirt if she wanted and not do any frakking thinking at all. She did not have to try and fight the numbness: she could just let the party fill her up.

All too soon, catcalls and applause replaced whatever song was playing, and she stilled, breathing only slightly hard. She gave the people around her table a wink and blew kisses and made sure to mess with a girl's skirt or two as she made her way down through the crowd.

She was a big attraction, and she knew it. Her body, her skin, her edgy appearance all thrilled. Nothing, no song or dance or well-placed moan was beyond her limits. She could go hours longer than any of the other pathetic girls in the joint, and still kick the poodoo out of anyone that got too handsy when she didn't intend for them to.

Simply put, she was a freak show. But people came for freaky, and she reveled in it. There was no thinking. Just movement, lights, and getting all caught up in something wild. That's what she came here for. For a few hours, Kat would just forget and let it all float away...

Until a gentle hand touched her bare shoulder and spun her half-around. K'tana's eyes narrowed and then widened as she saw it was her Consul, dressed in something that definitely was not her billowy cloak and Consuly robes.

A very little something, actually.

"Hello, my friend," Atyiru greeted, leaning in to murmur in her ear so she could be heard over the music. K'tana could smell sweet alcohol on the Miraluka's breath. Her usually bright smile was a smirk full of wicked, secret laughter. "Would you care to dance?"

"Is there even possibly an answer to that other than nooo?" the Twi'lek gasped, grinning and giggling.

"You can always say no. But I'd be happier if you didn't. Tonight we're here for fun, yes? Leave the rest behind."

"Blah blah, let's just go!" K'tana cried as she took Atyiru's hand and pulled her back into the dancing crowd. She nearly bowled over several people, knocking one man's drink down his shirt.

The guy spun, yelling, "OI, BITCH. WATCH IT!"

K'tana jerked to a halt, spun around, and strutted back over to the Human, glaring at him angrily. One of the knives from the tables appeared in her empty hand, glittering in the rainbow lights, and she twirled it.

"Excuuuuuse me?" she laughed. "Watch what? Watch you scream and cry with your tongue cut out?"

"Heeeeey, now," Atyiru stepped smoothly between them, pressing up against K'tana for good measure. "Let's not fight. We could do better things than fight. Right, Kat?"

K’tana’s green eyes flashed with the lust of impending violence.The adrenaline rushed through her system making her feel light headed and causing her breathing to grow almost frantic. A sheen of sweat took to her brown and her heartbeat raced, furthering her desire to spill blood. She barely heard her Consul’s voice or felt the heat of the other woman’s body pressed against hers. The Twi’lek could hardly contain the impulse to drive the blade between the male’s eyes as he scowled at her, his teeth bared in a sneer and his revolting breath causing the women to flinch. As Atyiru pressed her rear closer to the violet woman's hips, K’tana lifted her head and let out a deep breath.

“As you wish, M’lady. This frazlat isn’t worth the effort anyways.”

K’tana drove the blade into a nearby table and slid her arm up and over the Miraluka’s back, laying it across the Shadow Lady's collarbone and gently pulling her towards the crowd.

As the women turned their backs, the man continued his tirade, spewing vulgarities at the Twi'lek's back. Atyiru’s body remained relaxed, contrasting the Twi’lek’s tensed form, as they swayed towards the dance floor.

K’tana knew this situation was not over, but she refused to misbehave violently in front of the Shadow Lady. Although she was not the most intelligent Arconan, she had enough sense to know that annoying the Consul was not in her best interests. It would also ruin the potential of later fun.

Stepping through a small group of Zeltrons clothed in only neon and glitter, the broken minded Krath had an entertaining thought. A random idea that probably would not get her in trouble. She pulled the Miraluka to a stop and spun her around with a mischievous grin playing across lavender lips. The Twi’lek’s violet fingers gently pressing into the Consul's bronze shoulders.

“K’tana?” Atyiru's head cocked to the side. “What are you doing?”

K’tana pulled a lekku from over her shoulder and gave the Consul a wide grin as she abruptly used the appendage to thwack the white-haired beauty on the bridge of her nose. It was not hard and it did not hurt but in her inebriated state, Atyiru neglected to dodge. Her jaw dropping in shock momentarily, just long enough for the violet woman to put her finger against the Consul’s bottom lip.

“Bop!” the Priestess giggled as she gently poked the Miraluka in the covered eye socket with the tip of her head tail.

As K’tana let out a lilting giggle and tried to poke the Consul again, she was shoved forwards, slamming her forehead into the bridge of Atyiru nose. The Twi’lek’s lekku bent at the tip causing the sensitive nerves to drive a needle of pain into her temples. She collapsed to the floor, vision blurring, her stomachs flipping as she dry heaved.

As she regained her vision, K’tana realized she had pushed the Miraluka down with her and had had practically retched in the Consul’s face. A crimson flush crept into her violet cheeks as she stared down in shock.

As people crowded around, the Priestess felt a strange pressure midway up her lekku. She twitched slightly and froze in place, her arms on either side of Atyiru's head, knees pressed into the floor between the Miraluka’s legs.

The Shadow Lady had taken hold of K’tana’s lekku and held them against the back of the violet woman kneeling above her. Atyiru smiled up at the other Krath Priestess as she kept the delicate appendages out of reach from the feet that had begun to move in closer.

Despite the consideration of the Consul however and with the compromising position, K’tana was unsure how she was going to get back on her feet, or if she even wanted to.

“Ohhai there!” the Twi’lek choked out with a cut off giggle while trying to regain some of her composure.

“I usually love making my ladies gag, but really!” Atyiru snickered through her frowning lips, “There’s only so much sexy I can handle, K’tana.”

Both women laughed as the Consul pulled K’tana’s lekku over the violet woman’s shoulders. Moving with whatever grace she had left, the Twi’lek straddled Atyiru, pushed herself up and helped the Miraluka to stand. Turning to see who shoved them, the women tuned into the raucous noise that was no longer just laughter and music.

The group of Zeltrons had witnessed who pushed the women and they were yelling in unison at the man from earlier.

“What the kriff do’ya think you’re doing?” “Who the kark pushes women?!” “What the frak is your problem?”

Several other people decided to join in as the drunk guy realized he was completely outnumbered, but insisted on yelling back. K’tana laughed, heart racing as she turned.

“Watch this.”

With those famous last words, K’tana forced tears into her eyes and bit down hard on her thumb. She then rubbed the blood down her nose.

“You broke my karking nose you frangfaced phoodoo karker!” she shrieked as false tears flooded down her cheeks.

The crowd had enough instigation and pressed into the man. Fists began to fly as the Twi’lek writhed backwards, slipping out of the fray.

The women managed to duck a flying bottle that arched from the back of the room. They watched as it hit a large, angry looking woman, who threw a sloppy punch at the Twi’lek. K’tana leaned backwards, barely dodging the blow and causing the large behemoth woman to stumble forwards and fall to the side.

Atyiru suddenly yanked K’tana further back, causing the Twi’lek to stumble to catch her balance. She was about to say something when a small, giggling Ryn went flying into the brawling crowd face first, missing the women by inches.

“Saved your life!” the Consul said giggling. “Now you owe me one!”

The Twi’lek lifted her chin and pulled closer to the Miraluka, her hands on Atyiru's lower back and a smirk playing over her lips.

“Oh no. However shall I repay such a debt?” K’tana’s voice was low and full of insinuation. Atyiru just grinned and bit her bottom lip as she laid her hands across the Twi’leks hips.

K'tana giggled and gave quick lick to the Shadow Lady’s nose as the two women danced at the edges of the bar fight they had begun.

Their fun, of course, did not last that long.

Everything happened in the space of a few heartbeats, between the sway of raised arms and grind of shimmying hips pressed close. The nearby brawling crowd quickly overran the bar, the handsome young bartender abandoning his post like Mick never would. After that, bottles of alcohol and cutlery started flying, glass shattering in sprays or cracking over some patron’s head. Somewhere between the splash of highly flammable and highly delicious tequila and the flashes of hypnotic light from electrical equipment, a fire roared up around the sound system and improvised stage. The music the pair danced to died with the pathetic, shrieking whine of melting metal and plastic.

And that was about when the sprinklers went off.

For a flutter of lungs, the raging, rioting crowd of drunk partygoers stilled while water drenched them, including K’tana and Atyiru. Then, the Twi’lek’s bright, heady green gaze traveled down the other woman’s soaked form, widening slightly.

“Y-you, uh, look good in purple, Atty,” the Twi’lek said as, voice going a little high. Her Consul’s face twisted in confusion for a moment as she pushed wet sheets of hair off of her shoulders.

“What? But the saleswoman told me this dress was white…”

K’tana giggled, flicking her lekku. “Lady Billowy Cloak...you do know what happens when white clothes get wet, right, right?”

“No, I've never heard mention of it before! What happens?”

Grinning manically past the numb gallop of her heartbeat, the Twi’lek jumped up on the closest table and threw her hands up in the air.

“A WET T-SHIRT PARTY! FRAK YES!”

And just like that, the briefly-tamed crowd around them found something else to get excited over, and promptly resumed invading each other’s personal space in a manner very different from brawling.

Hopping back to the floor with a little twirl and shaking water from her long lekku, K’tana grabbed the Miraluka’s hand and pulled her along behind her, making her way out of the bar. A few distracted patrons got shoved out of her way, though one large man refused to budge.

Squealing with vicious excitement, K’tana found a shard of glass from the earlier melee with her free hand and twisted sharply. Her arm carried the force of her shoulder, her torso, and the pivot of her curvy hips, driving the shard deep into the man’s meaty leg. The Human gave an intoxicated howl of pain and staggered, and K’tana stepped twice, smoothly, and slipped past him, taking Atyiru along with her with all the grace of a professional dancer.

A few more bodies got escorted out of their way, a few bottles of fruity tequila stolen, and then they were breaking free of the hot press of flesh and wild abandon and out into the cool air of the night. The street outside Mick’s cantina hall was mostly deserted, the bouncer that had been hired for the night long since disappeared. A few couples and some wasted singles loitered around.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Kat cried, urging Atyiru along, flashing a fake smile full of very real heat.

Atyiru, though baffled, smiled back. “And where exactly are we going, now that the party’s...sidetracked?”

K’tana winked, dragging the tan hand she held up to her mouth to lick along the other woman’s knuckles. “To pay my little debt!”

The mere moments of dancing seemed to last an eternity while the two Arconan women moved synchronously across the floor. Atyiru had sobered up and was now fully aware but she let K'tana act as lead of their dance. They gracefully sashayed around the outskirts of the violent crowd.

Then the tiresome and belligerent chodface reappeared. The frazlat-scented drunk stumbled out of the moshpit and forcefully rammed himself into K'tana. This time the Twi’lek ran out of tolerance and decided against holding back and behaving for the Consul.

“This isn’t any karking fun anymore!” K’tana hissed while twisting away and using the momentum from the stumble to regain her balance and contort herself around so she stood between Atyiru and the threat. The Miraluka placed a hand on the Twi'lek's shoulder as soon as the seething woman flipped her lekku onto her back, looking like a coiled snake waiting to strike.

"K'tana."

The single word was a request, an order, a plea and a question. It was a hopeful but useless attempt and both women knew it.

The violet woman glanced at the hand on her shoulder. Atyiru gave a slight squeeze but she removed her hand slowly as a concerned look spread across her face. K'tana kept her peripherals focused on the intruder, who had stumbled back from the impact and was taking his time recovering due to his intoxicated state.

The second he recovered enough to close the distance between them, K'tana jumped at him, arm pulled back and teeth clamped together. She collided with his chest, gripping her legs around his back. Her arm drove forward and her fist collided with the base of his throat, her knuckles grinding against the pressure point in the center of his collarbone.

Laughing, K'tana rode Chod -as she decided to call him- to the ground as his knees buckled. The back of his head made an audible thump causing the Twi'lek to burst into a fit of childish giggles. Still snickering she quickly adjusted her position on him in order to maintain control.

"Oh hi!" K'tana smiled down at him.

Her right knee pressed into his chest. Her left leg lay against his sternum in a partially extended pose that caused her dress to cover little and show enough to make a Zeltron blush.

Chod grunted and tried to roll. A sudden hard pain in his throat and then his crotch made him stop as he wheezed out a thin gasp of air.

K'tana had driven the thin, long heel of her shoe into his neck, just against his trachea while simultaneously reaching down and grasping his manhood with her sharpened nails. She giggled as he lifted his arms, pushing firmly with her foot.

"Nah-ah!" She laughed shaking her head. "One wrong move.. and I kick!"

She gave a another gentle jab, with claws and boot, to enhance her point. He raised his hands slowly in a surrendering motion.

K'tana had been so focused on the male that she had momentarily forgotten the Consul had been standing behind her. Now Atyriu knelt at the Twi'lek's side, her bronze fingers gently pressed against the other females' violet chest.

"K'tana. Back off. He has surrendered." The Shadow Lady's voice was firm but gentle. A slight edge pressed upon it as K'tana's grin dropped and she glared over at the Miraluka.

"Get up and let the bouncers look after the rest of the situation. We can go back to my rooms and..." Atyiru’s voice trailed off with a smirk as K'tana began to smile again, despite knowing that it was not really a request or an offer to be denied.

Her green eyes narrowed dangerously as she grinned cruelly at the man below her foot. The Twi’lek licked her lips as she leaned into him slowly.

"Or maybe we can take him with us and teach him a few lessons in manners and respect."

The sight would have been intimidating had Atyriu not burst out laughing. She leaned forward against the shocked Twi'lek's chest, tapping the Priesess' shoulder while leaning her face against K'tana's chin.

"You!...Of all...People!" The Miraluka managed to choke out as she started to hiccup between giggles.

"Respect?!..Coming from...You?!"

The human male stifled a laugh, his eyes trying to catch glimpses of the violet psycho's face as she furrowed her brow and stared at the other Arconan.

"Hey! Kark you!" She said, slightly offended and completely missing the point. "I'm plenty respectful. I mean... wasn't molesting you while you were hammered! That’s something!"

This just caused Atyriu to collapse in a new series of hiccups and laughter, shaking her white hair so the braid became even more disheveled.

Huffing and sticking her nose in the air, K'tana gave up on pushing her foot into his windpipe and waved her heel in Chod's face. She waited until the other woman had begun to breathe normally before pushing gently pushing the Consul off of her chest.

“Oh sweety, don’t be mad!” Atyriu, still giggling, offered a hand up to the pouting younger woman. K’tana put her elbows on her knees and rested her cheeks on her fists. The Consul knelt and ran her fingers down the Twi’lek’s lekku. She smiled, tracing her fingers down the Priestess' cheek then cupped her chin. The Twi'lek looked into Atyriu's face as the Archpriestess ran her thumb over pouting, purple lips.

“Come on then darling, the bouncers and civilian authorities are going to be here very soon and we should try to be gone by then.”

“Atty, you’re the Consul. Don’t you own this place?!”

“Yeah, but that’s way less fun than playing hard to get.”

Atyriu gave K’tana a quick nudge that the Twi’lek took as the eyeless woman’s version of a wink and clasped her bronze fingers around the other Arconan's purple wrist. With a smirk, K’tana went to stand up, made it halfway, then butt dropped on Chod’s stomach. With lightning fast reflexes she jumped back up, gripped Atyriu’s hand and they ran, giggling, for the door.

Only then did bouncers showed up. One grumbled when he heaved a vomit covered man off the floor as the rest of the rowdy crowd was removed by other staff members. No other people had any authority in the Cantina...other than the Arconae and the Consul herself.

Had K’tana paid any attention to lectures of hierarchy or even cared, she might have known that the "civilian authorities" Atyriu had mentioned had never been called and that the bouncers were not to interfere with the Consul's business this night.

K'tana may have even seen the small smirk playing on the Consuls lips had she not been distracted by the offer of a visit to Atyriu's chambers. However, it would not have been a concern to her now. Not as the Miraluka closed her bedroom door behind them.