#best Acquisition Specialist

[prometheus-consulting]

Best Talent Acquisition Specialist | Prometheus Consultant

Seeking for a talent acquisition specialist to assist you in locating the best candidates for your company? Our knowledgeable staff of employees is the only place to turn. Visit: https://prometheusconsulting.in/

[larsnicklas]

anyway the people genuinely freaking out about capfriendly simply have not been around the block enough i think. we will be mildly inconvenienced for a bit but puckpedia has the exact same cap information as well as a cap relief calculator, a pick value calculator, a ufa tracker, buyout calculator, definitions and resources, and more. and they’ll continue to grow more robust. it’ll really be okay lol

[dystopicjumpsuit]

It's not Sunday but I'm sharing my OC Draig anyway.

Charming, funny, and dodgy as hell, Draig has not paid for a drink in fifteen years. He’s the sort of person who will sit next to you in the Corrie drunk tank and laugh about how you ended up there while you wait for Mic to come bail you both out.

In his defense, it was a great story. Art by me 🩵

More info below the cut! Content warning for non-detailed violence and eye injury/loss.

Overview

Name: Draig Birth year/age: 51 BBY (32 at end of the Clone Wars) Species: Zabrak Pronouns: he/him Orientation: bi/pan Home planet: Oba Diah Current location: Coruscant Occupation: “acquisitions” contract specialist (AKA thief for hire); journeyman pain in the ass; professional menace to society and underpants across the galaxy Affiliation: Bounty Hunters’ Guild Alignment: chaotic neutral Family: Oisin (father); Epha (mother, deceased); Mic and Branna Dhorhil (family of the heart)

Physical characteristics

Height: 6’/182 cm without the horns, but he counts them, so he tells everyone 6’2”/188 cm. Mic considers this ridiculous. Eyes: brown, one cybernetic gray Hair: bald Skin: brown Tattoos/piercings/identifying marks: traditional Zabrak facial tattoos; various facial and ear piercings

Personal history: 

Oisin and Epha had given up on having children when Draig came along. Oisin was 48, Epha was 41, and they were ecstatic to finally have the child they had so desperately wanted. Draig was their only child, and they adored him. The family lived happily for fourteen years, until Epha suddenly passed away from a massive stroke just before Draig started secondary school. Oisin was devastated, and Draig, in addition to his own grief, felt the weight of the galaxy on his young shoulders as he watched his father spiral.

When Draig started secondary school a couple months later, he was targeted by an older bully. Small for his age, and still reeling from the loss of his mother, Draig seemed like an easy target—at least, until Mic Dhorhil intervened when nobody else would. Draig and Mic both got suspended. Draig was distraught: the thought of adding to his father’s stress when Oisin was already struggling so much seemed like the end of the world to the young Zabrak. Mic took him to his own home instead so they could try to figure things out.

Mic’s mom Branna was home from work, and she convinced Draig that everything would be all right. She patched up both of the boys, got them a snack, and then commed Oisin to explain things diplomatically. From that point on, Draig and Mic were inseparable. The boys were best friends, and Draig imprinted like a baby duck on Branna as she stepped up to help him and Oisin through the loss of Epha. 

The two families became so close that they stopped considering themselves separate families at all, which was why, when Oisin fell ill, Mic didn’t hesitate to go along with Draig’s plan to steal the medication he needed from the Pyke syndicate. Their plan was a simple smash and grab, and somehow, they made it out alive—barely. Draig’s adrenaline rush from his first heist had barely faded when the bounty hunter showed up at the Dhorhils’ house.

Mic, Draig, and Branna fought back fiercely, but the hunter managed to slash Draig across the face before Branna killed the man with his own vibroblade. There was nothing to be done to save Draig’s eye. They didn’t even have time to apply bacta until they were already aboard the shuttle Branna stole from the Oba Diah City spaceport, in hyperspace on the way to Coruscant. 

The family disappeared into the Coruscant underworld until Branna was able to smooth things over with the Pykes. Oisin, having made a full recovery, opened a mechanic shop in the lower levels, while Mic started working in bars and restaurants and Branna took a position with Coruscant Public Transit. Draig, on the other hand, didn’t find the transition to Coruscant easy or straightforward, and he drifted into rougher crowds. 

Having gotten a taste for adrenaline during the Pyke heist, he started to engage in petty theft, which he rationalized as helping out while finances were tight. Before long, he discovered that he didn’t just like the challenge and the rush of stealing: he was good at it. Really good. He started honing his skills, seeking out larger, more valuable, and more difficult targets, until one day, almost without realizing it, he had become one of the best thieves in the business. Unsurprisingly, this put a target on his back—not only from the Coruscant Security Force, but also from other thieves looking to make a name for themselves.

Out of self-preservation, Draig decided to join the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, where he offered his services to anyone who could pay. He specialized in what the Guild diplomatically called “acquisitions,” but the truth was that he would do just about anything for the right price.

Anything except turn on his family.

Personality:

Charming and irresponsible irresistible. There’s not much in life that Draig takes seriously. He’s laid-back and easy-going to a fault, except when it comes to his work. He’s happy to go with the flow and let other people take the lead—especially Mic. His adrenaline-junkie tendencies cause him to sometimes take unnecessary risks, though he would never intentionally put someone else in danger.

He is uncompromisingly loyal to an incredibly small circle of people. If you are in that circle, he’ll do anything for you, no questions asked, regardless of the legal, ethical, or moral implications. Outside that circle, though, he doesn’t get attached. He’s friendly and approachable, but he’s one of those people who you realize after you’ve talked to him for weeks that he’s never shared anything about himself beyond the most superficial details. You were just distracted by how much he made you laugh and how much fun you had together to realize that he never let you get close to him.

In relationships, this manifests in a string of short-term flings where both/all parties agree to part ways cordially within a few weeks at maximum. He generally goes into a relationship with the understanding and expectation that it will stay casual and light, and he’s up front with his partners about that. Despite that, there have been times when things have gotten complicated and messy, which is why he now refuses to allow anyone outside his family to know where he lives.

Draig completely lacks Mic’s intensity, which is ironic, given that of the two, Draig is far more likely to break someone’s heart. Again, he’d never do it on purpose, but it’s a little too easy to fall for him when he has made a career of not falling. Ever. Which is why it’s the end of the kriffing galaxy the first time he catches feelings.

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@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory @etod

[ladamedusoif]

Provenance

A Gentleman Thief x F!Museum Professional Reader Story

Part of the HCU (Heritage Crimes Universe) - click for masterlist

Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x F!Museum Professional Reader

Summary: Two months after their reunion, the museum curator finds herself on an unexpected Parisian adventure. 

Content warnings: Smut; Oral sex (F receiving); unprotected but safe PiV sex; discussion of contraception; alcohol consumption; angst; discussion of illegal acquisition of stolen objects during WW2; (ethical) heritage crimes; theft; sort-of fluff; no physical description of Reader beyond her professional attire, though she has a nickname (chérie).

Rating: E (18+ MDNI)

Word count: ~7,500

A/N: They're back! The Thief is just too charming to resist. A follow-up to My Kiss, Only For You and Reunions.

I am no longer using a taglist: please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up to date with my work.

The package is, unmistakably, a book. Wrapped in brown paper, a neatly-typed address label affixed to the front. No return address. 

It’s pretty explicitly addressed to you, though. Right down to the department. You rack your brain, trying to remember whether you’d ordered something and forgotten. Or maybe it’s a gift?

You slip it out of the wrapping carefully. The dust jacket design suggests it’s from the 1950s, 1960s at the latest, but it’s in impeccable condition. 

The Museums of Paris: A Guide

The front cover features a photo of the Louvre, the facades still soot-blackened before their cleaning in the later part of the twentieth century, with beautifully-dressed tourists milling around the old entrance to the museum. 

Before you can leaf through the book, seeking a receipt or gift card or invoice of some kind, your desk phone rings. The museum director. And they want to speak to you: now. 

***

“We’ve had an…unusual request.”

You slip into the old leather chair opposite the director’s desk, covered in papers and catalogues. “An unusual request?”

She takes off her dark-framed glasses and smiles. “One of our major donors. They’re potentially about to buy some important art objects from a private Parisian collector, and we are hoping that - in time - they might donate them to us.”

“Okay…”

“But they don’t feel entirely confident appraising the collection without expert guidance.”

You nod slowly. 

The director looks at you as if she’s waiting for the penny to drop. 

“They want you to go to Paris with them, as an expert consultant. They will pay for all your expenses, travel, per diems - the lot.”

You just about manage to stop your jaw falling open. 

“Um…why me? I’m not one of the senior curators or object specialists, maybe they…”

She holds up a perfectly-manicured hand. “Stop there. The donor has explicitly requested you. They believe you are the best equipped to manage their needs on this job.”

“Uh… okay. So, when do I leave?”

She grins. “Two days’ time. And bring some decent clothes - you know how formal some of the French collectors can be.”

As you return to the office, a sensual memory flashes through your brain. Velvet, the colour of good Burgundy wine. Soft lips, coarse beard. Warm bodies pressed together. The most intense orgasm you’ve had in years, maybe ever.

It couldn’t be, surely. It was almost two months since that night and there’d been no missive, no note, nothing. The director said “them”, didn’t she? Not “he”. 

Besides, she’d said the donor was buying the objects. Not, you chuckle to yourself as you sit at your desk, stealing them. However ethical his motives may be. 

Still. No harm in packing some nice lingerie. Just in case.

***

It is still dark when your phone buzzes to let you know that the car - paid for and sent by the client - is waiting outside, ready to bring you to the airport for your transatlantic flight to Paris. 

You’d expected an Uber, not the gleaming black vehicle pulled up outside your building. Suitcase securely stowed, the driver points out the bottled water and snacks located in the back of the car as he sets off through deserted city streets. 

The surprises keep coming. You are in business class, not coach, for the long flight, resisting the urge to kick your feet and squeal with delight at the unexpected luxury. A smartly-dressed man holds a sign with your name on at Arrivals, and for a moment you wonder if this is the client. He’s another driver, of course - a charming and funny young Frenchman called Youssef, who speaks English with a vague American accent he says he picked up from TV and movies. 

Youssef whisks you into the city, pointing out landmarks along the way. The Eiffel Tower comes into view on the other side of the river as the black car negotiates elegant, narrow streets lined with perfectly-maintained nineteenth-century apartment buildings. 

“Et voilà!” Youssef stops the car and hops out to retrieve your suitcase. You step out, expecting to see the entrance to a hotel - but instead it’s just another residential building, sealed off from the city by two huge, heavy, dark green doors. 

With a bright smile, Youssef taps a little tag off a keypad and one of the doors swings open, revealing a passage leading to a gorgeous courtyard beyond. He refuses your tip - “it’s all good, madame!” - and instead picks up your bag and leads the way, opening another door to reveal the entrance hall proper. The marble floor is polished to perfection; dark red carpet covers the staircase that wraps around the elevator shaft; and there is not a sound to be heard.

”Sixth floor, madame. They’re waiting for you there.” He slides back the door of the elevator, slots your case in beside you, and presses the button. “Have a nice day!”

The elevator is old - possibly pre-World War One, you muse, unable to turn off the specialist’s mind - and slow. As it ascends, you take a moment to gather your thoughts and process this strange little adventure. 

If this was a movie, you’d be walking into a meeting of a criminal gang - or maybe to your death, you suddenly think, panic taking over for a second as the lift comes to a shuddering stop and you step out onto the sixth floor landing.

There is only one apartment entrance up here, as far as you can see. Dark red double doors, perfectly polished brass doorknobs and fittings adorning them, and a tiny doorbell discreetly tucked alongside the doorframe on one side. 

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and hover your finger over the button. 

The door to the apartment swings open just as your fingertip makes contact with the doorbell, setting off a loud, sonorous bell somewhere within and making you jump.

”Bienvenue, chérie. Come in, won’t you? I do hope I haven’t frightened you.”

***

“You know, if you wanted to ask me out again you could have just called or emailed, like a normal person.”

He hands you a cup of strong black coffee and joins you on the couch in the apartment’s enormous living room. 

“Do you think I’m a normal person?”

You take a sip and chuckle. “You are definitely not a normal person.”

He smiles in satisfaction, eyes taking you in from head to toe as you feel a warmth building deep within.

”It’s very, very good to see you, chérie.” His voice is warm and honeyed, an inviting purr that makes you ache between your legs. 

Today, he is wearing a black cashmere turtleneck with a pair of perfectly-tailored grey dress pants and some heavy, brown-framed glasses. It’s all you can do not to climb on top of him. 

“It’s been almost two months, Thief. Did you forget about me?”

He shakes his head, eyes softening with what you want to believe is genuine regret. “Never. I had to spend some time away, in South America - dealing with the family business, you know - and then I came here, to look at Madame Deseine’s…collection.”

The way he enunciates the final word gives you pause. What was in this “collection”?

“So my invitation here was just an excuse to see me, is that it? Because you weren’t back in the city yet?”

He looks at you in surprise. “Of course not! I mean, I’m very happy to see you again.” A little smile, eyes twinkling. “But no, I need your expertise. And your company is…a nice bonus.”

“My expertise?”

He sits back and crosses his legs, holding your gaze. “You are a specialist in the kinds of decorative arts and objects in Madame Deseine’s collection, I believe. And you are fluent in French. Year abroad in Lyon, correct?”

Your mouth falls open and you quirk your head. “How did… have you been… were you digging for information on me? That’s a violation of trust, and -“

He interrupts your fury with a chuckle. “Chérie, it’s all on your museum staff page profile. Qualifications, time abroad, special areas of expertise.”

You blush, embarrassed, and stare down into the dark swirl of your coffee as an awkward silence takes hold in the apartment’s tasteful interior. 

“I’m sorry, chérie. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Trust me, you are exactly the right person for the job.” 

He extends a hand towards yours, long fingers gently stroking the back of your hand. When you look up, his dark eyes are warm and genuinely apologetic. 

“I guess I’m not used to being…pursued, like this.”

He arches an eyebrow. “In what sense?”

You smirk and stand up. “In every sense, Thief. Now: are you going to explain this ‘job’ to me or not?”

His gaze - taking you in, a smile on his lips - is enough to set you aflame. 

“I am. But over dinner, I think.”

***

The waiter perfectly pours a little more white wine into each of your glasses before returning the bottle to the stainless steel ice bucket and leaving the two of you to your meals. 

He raises his glass to you, and you return the gesture.

You were not surprised when the car had pulled up outside an elegant, discreet restaurant tucked away in the Seventh Arrondissement. It was exactly his style: subtle, timeless, and exuding quality even before he held the door open and you stepped inside.

“So.” He swallows a bite of his monkfish and takes a sip of wine. “Madame Deseine.”

“Madame Deseine.”

You start to eat your meal as he explains. A genuine and respected art collector, Madame Deseine lived outside Paris in her family’s country estate, surrounded by an exceptional array of mostly nineteenth and early twentieth-century paintings, decorative arts, sculpture and furniture. As she grew older, she had begun to sell some parts of the collection - but remained extremely guarded about its exact contents.

“There are some…questions about the provenance of some of the items in the collection, or at least items we think are in the collection. Mostly late nineteenth-century decorative arts - clocks, vases, that sort of thing - but also some small art nouveau sculptures and figurines.”

You take a sip of your wine and narrow your eyes. “And this is where you come in?”

He nods. 

“You’re planning to steal some of her collection?”

He shakes his head, pauses, then nods before shaking his head again.

“Kind of, not really. Didn’t you hear what I said about provenance?”

“You think she’s not being entirely honest about her methods, about how she came by the collection?” In a world increasingly attuned to the repatriation of looted and stolen objects to their rightful place, you were deeply familiar with the importance of the provenance paper trail. 

He dabs at the corner of his mouth with the linen napkin. “Some of the collection. I believe that some of the collection came into her family as a result of looting and theft, that these items were not restored to their rightful owners, and that she is well aware of this fact.”

“You know that some of the most important art collectors in France before the war were Jewish families, no doubt.” You nod and he continues. “And that many of those families, even if they were in the minority lucky enough to escape the round-ups and the camps, had to leave behind those collections.”

”And when they were gone, the collections were…dispersed.”

He shakes his head. “Not dispersed. Stolen. Some of the surviving members of those families had their possessions located and restored, but not all. And I have been reliably informed that some of those missing items are currently in the hands of Madame Claudine Deseine.”

You swallow a bite of your salmon and size him up. “Aha. And this is why an ethical gentleman thief is required, I suppose?”

He gives you a knowing smile. The way the candlelight catches the coppery flecks in his brown eyes makes your breath catch for an instant. 

“I have been asked by a number of individuals to retrieve the objects stolen from their families over eighty years ago, and which have made their way into Madame Deseine’s collection without regard for their provenance.” He chews thoughtfully on a steamed green bean. 

“So where, exactly, do I come in, Thief?”

”I am going to buy some of the collection. But in order to be sure that the missing objects are in the Deseine chateau and to cross-check the gaps in the provenance records…I need to gain her trust. Or rather - you need to gain her trust.”

You raise your eyebrows and take another sip of wine. You might need something stronger by the end of the night.

”You aren’t seriously asking me to steal art, are you?” you hiss. He shakes his head furiously.

”Absolutely not. But I know Claudine Deseine’s reputation, and I know she won’t just let a potential buyer see the whole of her collection. She will, however, be a little more welcoming to a specialist who has kindly agreed to evaluate the items properly. Oh, and to look through the provenance records, to save us all time.”

”So what, I just turn up with you and hope she lets me into her secret stash of stolen stuff?”

He chuckles at the alliteration. “Not quite. But you may need to butter her up, tell her you’ve heard extraordinary things about the rare items she has, ask if she might let you see these things you’ve only read about in catalogues. And when you’re in, you can use your expertise to confirm that these are the items we are looking for, and then look for any gaps or obvious forgeries in the accompanying paperwork.”

”And how, exactly, do you propose to liberate the items from this chateau?”

He taps his nose. “Chérie, telling you that would make you completely complicit. I will handle it, you will wait in the apartment.”

You purse your lips. “I can’t believe I’m actually agreeing to this.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Deseine has knowingly sat on these things too long - why else would she hide these valuable items from any public descriptions of her collection? The government ignores the claims from the descendants because, for the most part, they live in the US.” He finishes the remaining wine in his glass. “And I, personally, cannot resist a challenge.”

“I have one condition. Apart from not becoming more implicated in this than I already am.”

“Name it.”

”That. That’s my condition. I want your name.”

He chuckles and looks down at his empty dinner plate. “Chérie, I cannot.”

”You’re asking me to help you steal back some very valuable art, and you can’t give me your name?”

”If you know my name you will know too much. And I don’t know why you need to know, anyway.”

You roll your eyes. “I like to know who I’m working with. And, on occasion, who I’m sleeping with, or who’s eating me out on my desk.”

To your satisfaction, he splutters on his sparkling water. 

”I still can’t tell you,” he says, recovering his composure.

”Nothing stopping me guessing, though,” you whisper mischievously. “Let’s see. Giacomo.”

He gives you a withering glance.

”Not that, then…Pietro.”

An eye-roll. 

“Dave.”

”Do I look like a ‘Dave’ to you?”

You giggle as the waiter takes away your empty plates. “No, that’s true. Pierre?”

He groans and shakes his head, but his smile is unmistakable. “Don’t make me regret this, chérie.”

***

Back in the apartment, he rummages in a sideboard filled with bottles of various liqueurs and spirits, before producing a bottle of Courvoisier and two cognac glasses.

“A little digestif, if you’d like?” 

You accept your glass gratefully and inhale the complex, fruity aroma of the alcohol, swirling it gently before taking a sip. Its warmth radiates through your body and you close your eyes and savour the sensation, tucking your feet under you as you cosy up on the couch.

“Tell me about the apartment.”

He smiles, looking around the spacious living room, its nineteenth century interior fixtures somehow matching perfectly with the array of impeccably-chosen twentieth-century furniture. 

“My great-great-grandfather bought it, not long after this building was constructed - late nineteenth century, I think. The family business frequently brought him to Paris, and he needed a base.”

“And the family business is…?”

He huffs a laugh. “You are persistent, chérie. Wine. The family business was - is - wine.” 

You raise your eyebrows and nod as if extremely impressed, and he chuckles, revealing the laughter lines around his eyes that lend his handsome face such character. 

“Well, I can’t pretend to be an expert - what do they call it? An…oenophile, is that it? - so I’m not going to ask for any more details, fear not. My wine knowledge extends no further than ‘that’s quite nice, isn’t it.’”

He feigns horror, recoiling back into the cushions of the sofa. “Chérie, I am going to have to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

You giggle and take another sip of the cognac. “I’m willing to learn, though.”

“That so? Well, I can be your guide, if you’d like.” He finishes his cognac and licks his lips as he looks at you. 

“I…I would like.”

He smiles, takes your glass, and stands up. You follow his lead, wandering behind him into the kitchen where he deposits the empty glasses on a pristine countertop. Every fibre of your being wants to reach for him, to pull him to you, to have him there and then.

“Chérie, I…didn’t want to presume anything.” He swallows hard and turns to face you, eyes a little wary. “About, uh, sleeping arrangements. Hence the guest bedroom.”

You had changed there earlier - a bright, pretty bedroom at one end of the corridor running along the apartment, complete with its own small en suite bathroom. 

“Oh. Of course.” You flush. “A busy day tomorrow.”

His hand finds yours, long fingers caressing yours before he brings it to his lips for a soft, sustained kiss that does nothing to quench the flames of your desire.

“Indeed. That said, if you want company…”

You see the spark in his eyes: teasing, playful, almost daring you to act first. Instead, you meet his gaze with an enigmatic smile.

He pulls away slightly and arches an eyebrow. “If you want company, I am just down the hall. Bonne nuit, chérie.”

***

In the quiet of the guest room you slip out of your clothes and into a wine-coloured silk robe you’d found hanging on the back of the door, freshly pressed. You retrieve your washbag and toiletries and set about your nightly routine. 

You hoped it would be a distraction from the ache between your legs, from the memory of his hand on yours, from the way he looked at you, from his offer of company. From the wet patch you’d noticed on your panties as you undressed. 

“Fuck.”

You close your eyes and lean on the sink for a moment as you take a deep breath before reaching for your moisturiser.

***

He’s sitting on his bed, stripped to his boxers and clad in his own, navy blue silk robe. It hangs open around his body, the colour a perfect complement for his golden skin. 

A knock. He lifts his head from his papers.

“Come in, chérie.”

She peeks playfully around the door. “I was wondering if that offer was still valid. I think I do want some…company.”

“It’s still valid.” He tidies away the paperwork and pats the space beside him on the large bed. “What kind of company did you have in mind?”

She crosses the room, hands reaching for the sash of her guest robe. It falls open as she reaches the bed, revealing the lacy bra and matching French knickers underneath. He inhales sharply, cock twitching at the sight. 

“Up to you. This is your turf, after all.” 

“Ah, but you’re the guest, chérie. Your preference is what counts.”

She shucks off the robe and climbs onto the bed, swiftly straddling him. With a slow roll of her hips, she drags her pussy over his hardening cock, the outline visible under his dark boxers.

“This is my preference. Does it work for you, too, Thief?”

He answers with a hungry kiss as he pulls her tight to him.

***

He tastes of mint and cinnamon and the faintest trace of Courvoisier. You had missed his mouth.

His fingers unhook the clasps of your bra and he tugs it off you, discarding it to a corner of the room. He breaks the kiss, lips pink and wet, and turns his attention to your tits: cupping them, fondling them, squeezing them with his broad hands before he starts to suck on each nipple in turn.

You toss back your head and bite your lip, stifling a loud moan. He releases your breast with a pop of his mouth.

“This apartment is the entire top floor, chérie. You can be as loud as you wish.”

Two fingers tug aside the crotch of your panties and find the warm wetness that’s been building between your legs all day. He looks up at you and grins. 

“On your back, amor.”

French knickers off, he gently pushes your thighs back before resting your legs over his shoulders. He buries his face against your pussy with a delighted groan, the delicious timbre of his voice rumbling against your core. 

He licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, a hand pressing against your belly as your hips instinctively buck upwards with pleasure and need. His tongue swirls lasciviously across your folds, lapping up the wetness, before he begins to suck on your clit. Slow at first, a gorgeous torment; then faster, more insistent, the tip of his tongue flicking over and back over the swollen nub rhythmically in time with your needy moans and whimpers. 

He keeps it up as he slips first one, then two fingers inside you and hooks them just so, chuckling when you cry out.

“Fuck…I’m close, I -“

You let go. You come hard against his face, ecstasy coursing through your body as he keeps on fucking you through it with his fingers, gently pulling out when he senses your overstimulation. 

He moves up and lies beside you, face to face. 

“You enjoyed that.”

You try to slow your breathing. “You think?”

He chuckles, tracing the curve of your hip with his hand. “I enjoyed it, too.”

“And no jewel theft involved this time. So far, anyway.”

He closes his eyes and smiles, humming contentedly as he reaches for your breast, idly rubbing your nipple with his thumb. 

You study his features for a moment, noting the handful of freckles on his face, the way his dark lashes look against his cheeks, the gloss of your own slick shimmering across his pink lips, his chin, his moustache. 

This time, when your tongue swipes against his mouth, he tastes of you. 

You gather some of your own wetness on your fingers by way of lubrication, before tugging down his boxers and taking his cock in your hand. He closes his eyes as you stroke him slowly, steadily, feeling him growing harder under your careful touch.

With your free hand you caress the side of his face, thumb rubbing gently against the grey patches in his beard. 

“I want you, Thief.” 

He opens his eyes and smiles before gently moving your hand away from his cock. He shucks off his robe and shifts into position above you, arms caging your body on either side. 

“You know, I’m on birth control,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. “And you were the last person I was with, and before that…well, it had been a while.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Same. Well, not the birth control, evidently…but the rest. No one but you, not for some time. So…?”

You trail your fingers over his chest, dappled here and there with freckles, and he leans down to kiss you. Different, this time - softer, less desperate, more…tender.

“So you can have me bare, if you want.” 

“Oh fuck, chérie. Yes. Please.” He gestures with his head. “Turn, get on all fours.”

You do as you are told, teasingly wiggling your ass at him once you’re in position. He gives it a light slap and you squeal approvingly until the feeling of his cock opening you up makes you catch your breath.

He sinks slowly inside you, pausing when he’s fully sheathed in your warm pussy. You can hear his breathing becoming a little ragged, hitching as he adjusts to the feeling.

”Feel good, Thief?”

”Incredible, amor. You?” 

“Fucking amazing.”

He takes you slowly at first, a long drag out, a quicker thrust back inside, and builds up a rhythm quickly. The angle is nothing short of perfect and you bury your face against the covers, whining with pleasure. He reaches down and grabs one of your breasts, fingers pressing into the flesh as he fucks you harder and faster. 

“Such a beautiful body, amor. So soft and warm and fuck, such a tight little pussy for me. You feel so perfect on my cock.”

He’s hitting you just right now, another orgasm building rapidly until you come for the second time, muffling your cries in the blankets. You turn to look at him: broad body glistening with perspiration, errant curls falling over his forehead and darkened with sweat, that gorgeous head thrown back as he gets closer and closer.

”Come on, Thief.” You purr your encouragement, never taking your eyes off him. “Come on. Come. Fill me up.”

He comes hard, with a loud cry, hands gently caressing your hips as he finishes deep inside you. 

”I think you missed me.” 

He flops back on the bed and turns to face you as you nestle against him. A mischievous grin plays around his lips. “What on earth makes you say that, chérie?”

You kiss his forehead, tasting the salty sweetness of his damp skin. “Just a hunch. By the way, I have an even better reason why I need to know your name.”

He groans and rolls his eyes affectionately. “Well?”

”Well…if I knew your name, I could scream it out loud the next time you make me come like that.”

His eyes widen and he grins. “You could, I suppose.”

”So? What’s your name…Pablo.”

He fixes you with a teasing glare. “Not Pablo.”

”James. Jimmy. Jimbob?”

He can’t help but burst out laughing this time. “Fine. Fine. Let’s make a deal. If we succeed with Madame Deseine, I’ll give you a name.”

”A name?” The distinction is striking.

”A name. It may or may not be my name. But it will be a name. Deal?”

“Deal.”

***

The morning mist hangs low over the French countryside as you drive through the enormous gateway that divides the Deseine estate from the rest of the world, and follow the long drive up to the chateau proper.

You had expected that Youssef would be on driving duty. But it was your gentleman thief at the wheel of the understated hire car, confidently navigating the autoroutes and trunk roads that led to your destination. For a moment you imagine a parallel universe where you are just a normal couple on a normal holiday, not a nameless thief and a museum curator plotting to relieve a woman of her family’s ill-gotten gains.

He had slept well, it seemed. You? Not so much. In the wee small hours of the morning, you lay awake, listening to his steady breaths and ruminating over what, exactly, you were doing here - and why.

He isn’t your partner. Not your boyfriend. Hell, you don’t know if you could call this “dating”. You don’t even know who he is. He stole from your employer because you let your pussy override your brain. He brought you to Paris to aid and abet in another theft. And, instead of turning on your heel and trying to protect your professional reputation, you’d not only agreed to his scheme - you’d fucked him. Again. 

You’d tossed and turned on the pillows as you tried to quiet your mind enough for sleep. Was this really just about sex? Or was something else pulling you into each other’s orbits?

The Deseine chateau emerges at the end of the driveway. It appears at first glance to date from the eighteenth century, with some later additions and extensions. He pulls up near the main door and hops out of the car, quickly bounding over to the passenger side so he can hold the door for you. 

“What a gentleman,” you whisper, straightening the smart blazer and palazzo pants you’d worn for the occasion. 

“At your service,” he replies with a subtle wink. “Just as I was when you needed…company. How are you feeling this morning, by the way? Satisfied, I hope.”

Before you can answer, the enormous main doors of the chateau swing open and a petite woman with snow-white hair emerges, clad in a vintage bouclé Chanel skirt and matching jacket. He moves swiftly up the steps to shake her hand, speaking too quietly for you to pick up on whatever name he’s using today.

“And this is my expert, my advisor, my guiding light!” He gestures towards you, motioning for you to join them. You introduce yourself with a bright smile, trying to read the older woman’s expression, to get a sense of how you might gain her trust.

“It is an honour to be here, Madame. I’m so excited to see the collection.”

Claudine Deseine casts an appraising glance over you from head to toe. Seemingly satisfied, she extends her hand in greeting and addresses you in clipped, precise English. 

“It is very special, I think you’ll agree. Now, do come in - I’ll have my housekeeper Maryam bring us some coffee, and then we can take a look at the objects we’ve discussed.”

***

He is gentlemanly charm personified, you think, watching him follow Madame Deseine around the house. He flirts just enough to have the older woman like putty in his hands, listens attentively, laughs at her jokes, and looks at her with a familiar twinkle in his eyes. 

The recognition gives you pause, but you push it to the back of your mind. You have a plan to stick to today.

She leads the two of you into a bright room at the back of the chateau, overlooking a gorgeous French-style formal garden. “Well, here they are.” She gestures towards a large oak table in the middle of the room, where a variety of figurines and decorative objects are set out. You’d known what to expect: mostly art nouveau, dating from decades either side of 1900; some bronze figures; some beautifully-decorated ceramics, glazes still bright and vibrant; and what you immediately recognise as a small, early Lalique crystal vase.

He claps his hands together in what looks like genuine delight, eyes widening as he moves closer to the table. “May I?”

Madame Deseine beams and nods. He carefully picks up one of the vases, inspecting the swirling, sinuous curves of its painted decoration before checking the makers’ marks on the bottom of the piece. 

“Extraordinary,” he says in a rapt whisper.

“Madame?” She turns to face you. “Would it be possible for me to see the paperwork while he - while my client is inspecting the objects? It would save your valuable time, and you’ve already been so kind to accommodate us.”

She beams. “Of course. Follow me, won’t you?” She opens another door leading off the room and pauses for a moment. 

“I’ll be back tout de suite, monsieur,” she purrs at him as he peers at a bronze figurine. “Please, make yourself at home.”

“You really are most kind, Madame.” He winks, and the esteemed Claudine Deseine titters like a schoolgirl.

***

She flicks a switch and illuminates a large, windowless room located at the rear of the house, in what you suspect might be the former servants’ quarters. “Et voilà. The archive.”

The walls are lined with shelving, filled with hundreds of archive boxes and files. You begin to scan the shelves, trying to work out a pattern in the filing system. 

“They are labelled according to date of acquisition,” she explains. “Achats, purchases, by year.”

You look at her with an expression that you hope conveys innocent confusion. “Gosh, it’s all such a lot. Could you give me dates for the items being sold? Ballpark, if necessary - I just know he’s a stickler for the paperwork but he’s impatient and he won’t take kindly to me taking a long time in here…”

She smiles and nods sympathetically, and for a moment you feel incredibly guilty. “Ah. Men. I understand, my dear.” She pulls out an unmarked, unlabelled box file from the top shelf and retrieves a spiral-bound book.

“This is strictly entre-nous, my dear. My personal catalogue. Everything by date. Let this be your guide. And now, I must return to monsieur.” She looks at you conspiratorially. “If he becomes - how do they say it, antsy? - then he can simply take a walk in my beautiful gardens, hmmm?”

***

He strolls past the elegantly-trimmed box hedges as he makes his way to the elaborate water feature at the centre of the gardens. He couldn’t quite believe how well it had all worked out, so far - your complaint about his impatience had, as planned, won you her sympathy and with it an order from the lady of the house to go and see the gardens while you worked through the papers. 

If necessary, he’d have feigned illness, claimed he needed some air. But it’s always better when they play right into your hands, with something they believe is their idea. 

The gardens are perfectly positioned to give him a view of the back of the house: the doors leading to a terrace, the smaller windows and discreet servants’ entrance. His dark eyes survey the building closely, making a mental map he’ll refer to when he finalises the plan. He has his suspicions, but he needs you to confirm exactly where the collections are hidden. For now, he just hopes you can unlock the final part of the puzzle. 

***

A knock on the door announces the return of Claudine Deseine. 

“Well, have you found what you needed? I do hope the catalogue was useful.”

Little do you know, Madame. 

You replace the lid on a box of papers and nod at a stack of receipts and records of authenticity relevant to the items he was perusing for purchase. 

“Very useful, thank you, Madame.” 

You swallow hard and slow your breathing as you follow her out of the room. 

“Madame, may I - may I make a somewhat bold request?”

She raises an eyebrow. “You may. What is it?”

“I couldn’t help but notice the entries for some of Lalique’s cire perdue work when I was looking at the catalogue. Pieces so rare that we only know they exist because of René Lalique’s own records…”

“Yes. And?” 

“My masters dissertation was on Lalique, Madame. Is there…would you…could I…?”

She stares at you before her features soften into a smile. 

“You want to see them, don’t you?”

***

“Well?”

He waited until you were out of the estate before asking the question, not seeming to notice how quiet you’d been since getting back in the car.

“They’re there. The three Lalique pieces, that rare Sevres vase. She was only too happy to show me.”

“Did you check the makers’ marks?”

You nod, gazing out of the window. “I did. They’re the right pieces. Those Laliques are one of a kind. In different circumstances, it would have been a joy to see them.”

“And the papers?”

He takes the turn to merge onto the autoroute back to Paris, and you wish the nagging doubts about this whole sorry enterprise - about him - would dissipate.

“The private catalogue clearly states when they were acquired, but with no corresponding archival code numbers. I checked the boxes for those years carefully, just to be sure…but there’s no paper trail. Just a note in each catalogue entry recording the dealer they came from - all from the same man.”

He nods, satisfied. “And the room itself? What’s access like?”

“I sent you some photos earlier.” While Madame Deseine had been taking the priceless objects out of their storage boxes, you had snapped some surreptitious pictures. “Access may not be straightforward, though, given the absence of a window.”

He chuckles. “Leave that to me.”

“Won’t she know that you’ve taken the pieces, by the way?”

“F is for Fake, chérie. Nothing some good forgeries cannot fix.”

***

You spend the rest of the journey in silence, while he rambles about various subjects: French motorways, private chateaux, Lalique’s cire perdue process, in which a vase is formed within a one-off wax mould that was discarded afterwards, rendering the pieces unique - and extremely valuable.

“The descendants of the original owners still have, in some cases, the provenance records for these items,” he explains as he parks the car and taps the sensor to open the door into the building. “And now, soon, they’ll have their rightful inheritance.”

You don’t know whether to snap at him or burst into tears.

He takes your coat and saunters into the apartment’s small kitchen, still talking to you as he audibly potters around, opening cupboards and taking out dishes and glassware. You are not really listening, still caught up in your own thoughts. Why the fuck were you here? Were you really willing to risk your entire reputation for a crush and some sex? You’d been lucky to escape any questioning or punishment after the theft of the ruby, after all. 

And what if, as you wondered in the chateau when he was so flirtatious and charming with Madame Deseine, he was just using you? Your knowledge and your veneer of professional respectability helped him steal. Your desire and your body got him off. Win-win for him, but a potentially devastating loss for you.

“Chérie? Didn’t you hear me?”

He’s standing at the narrow door into the kitchen that adjoins the living room, sweater sleeves rolled up.

“Oh. Oh, sorry. I was miles away. What is it?”

“I asked the housekeeper to leave a light dinner for us, as it’s been a long day. It’s nothing fancy - some salads, crudités, cold cuts and cheeses - but I do have a very nice Sancerre chilled in the fridge…”

You force a smile. “That does sound good. I’ll set the table, if you show me where everything is.”

He cheerily opens the various cartons and tubs of food as you ferry the tableware into the open-plan dining area. Behind his usual charming patter, though, is a man increasingly worried about how quiet you’ve been since you left Madame Deseine and her collections earlier that day.

***

“You know you can talk to me, chérie. What’s on your mind?”

Of course he’s noticed. Why wouldn’t he? His perceptiveness is what makes him such an artful, successful thief.

You drain your glass of Sancerre and look him square in the eye.

“Am I really so different to Claudine Deseine?”

He looks confused.

“Excuse me?”

“Am I really so different to Claudine Deseine? In your eyes, I mean. Are you using me, like you’re using her?”

“I’m not using Madame Deseine. I’m buying some of her collection so I can liberate the really valuable pieces and get them back where they belong. That’s stealing, not using.”

You exhale, long and slow. “I saw you today. Handling her just like you do me. The charm offensive, the twinkling eyes, the flirting. She, at least, hasn’t slept with you - though I wouldn’t put it past you to try if you thought it would have helped.”

The words leave your lips, and you instantly regret it. So much for rational calm. Now you just sound like a jealous lover.

He looks at you, jaw ticking, and a blend of fury and hurt burning in his dark eyes. 

“That’s rather unfair, don’t you think?”

Silence.

“I had to win her over. Just like you did. Or did you forget your part in this?”

“Why am I here, Thief? What do you want from me? There must be hundreds of other experts out there you could have enlisted to help you gain access to the collection, theft or no theft. And if it’s just about sex, well - I suspect there’s no shortage of people who’d be very glad to fuck you. So why me? Or do you just want to ruin me, finish what you started when you tricked and took advantage of me?”

His voice is low and carefully controlled. “You know that’s not what this is, chérie. You know that.”

You push away from the table and stand to face him, flinging down your linen napkin. “So what, then, is it?”

He stares at you and his expression shifts, from glowering to openness. Mouth slightly ajar, he seems to be struggling to find the words.

He can’t even bring himself to say it. Coward.

“I see. Good night, Thief.”

***

Your return flight is booked for the day after tomorrow, and there’s no way you could afford a last-minute ticket for an earlier departure. As you complete your nighttime routine and slip into the guest bed, you resolve to make the most of an unexpected solo day in Paris, looking up current exhibitions and shows at the city’s various museums and galleries. 

You take a herbal sleeping tablet, just in case, and turn off the light.

When you wake in the morning, you find that your pillow is damp from the tears you wept in the night.

His bedroom door is still firmly closed as you pad down the hallway and to the main door. Exploiting you or not, he’d made it clear that he didn’t need you for today, the final stage in his plan. There’s a spare keyfob in the drawer of the small hall console table. You slip it in your bag and head out of the apartment and into the city.

***

Museums afford a kind of sanctuary: a quiet space for meditation, reflection, imagination, escape. On a day like today, they enclose you in a safe, comforting cocoon of art and beauty, helping to shield you from the world outside - and from the raging storm of your own thoughts and worries.

You flash your work ID at the entrance to the Petit Palais and are waved through, past the lines of tourists, by virtue of the international reciprocal entry schemes for museum staff. The current temporary show, on Paris in the first decades of the twentieth century, is just what you need by way of distraction, and you lose yourself in artwork after artwork, in no hurry to return to the apartment. 

At the museum’s garden café, you take your time over coffee and cake, occasionally joined by a tiny songbird who seems hell-bent on helping himself to your snack. His daring raids on your slice of carrot cake help to stop your mind from wandering back to the apartment, to him, and to his journey back to the chateau.

***

He’s gone when you get back. Just an envelope on the counter, addressed to you. Normal service, you think, resumed at last.

Chérie,

As planned, I’ve returned to the Deseine estate to finish what we started. I intend to return later tonight, or in the early hours, but promise me that if I do not return, you will take the flight tomorrow evening. 

You must not look for me. Promise me that.

I hope that I might see you before you leave, one way or the other. 

Know that I care for you, chérie. 

Midnight comes and goes with no sight or sound of him.

One. Two. Three. Nothing.

You close your eyes and force yourself to sleep.

***

He whispers to you in your dreams, over and over. He calls out to you. 

“Chérie?”

You open your eyes. In the half-light, you see him. Hair mussed, eyes wide, face streaked with dirt, stripped to the waist. 

He feels real to the touch: warm, solid, the softness of his middle, the strength of his arms and shoulders. His beard bristles so realistically under your lips that you could almost believe he was there.

“Chérie, I’m here. I’m back. I’m with you.”

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around him and pull him to you, wordlessly peppering his face with kisses before he wriggles down and nestles his head against your chest, holding you tight to him.

He seems unsettled, distressed, even. Perhaps it had been a narrow escape. Perhaps something had gone wrong. 

No matter. You envelop him with warmth and protection. The way he clings to you, needs you, starts to provide an answer to your questions about the nature of his feelings.

You kiss the top of his head and stroke the scruff on the side of his jaw. He pulls away for a moment to look up at you, all softness and awe and warmth. He motions as if to say something, then stops, pensive, and reaches up to kiss your mouth.

“My name is Alejandro.”

Find out more about the Lalique cire perdue technique here!

If you'd like to read more about the great Jewish art collecting families of pre-war France, I strongly recommend James McAuley's The House of Fragile Things and Edmund de Waal's Letters to Camondo.

[pinktinselmonstrosity]

Omg hi, you’re studying museum studies? I looked at your blog because I love Psych but I plan to study history and am currently interning/volunteering at a museum. Do you have any helpful information about the topic, or any advice for someone looking to get into the industry? I’ve heard it’s difficult to get in to. Thank you for your time, sorry, I’ve never used the ask feature before but I couldn’t believe the coincidence.

hey, thanks for asking! i actually just finished my degree and am very much struggling to get into the industry. it is very competitive, so it's a good idea to start early, which it seems like you're doing already! you say you're planning to study history, so i'm assuming you're still at school. interning and volunteering in a museum is absolutely the best thing you can be doing at this stage - previous experience is something that most museum job descriptions really value, so you're setting yourself up really well. if you can get a paying museum job, at a front desk or even in a café or shop, that would also look really good on your CV.

another thing it might be useful to think about is what kind of museum role you're looking for. people often assume that everyone who works in a museum is a curator; in reality, there are a wide range of other roles and other areas of the sector that are equally as important. apart from curating, some of the most important museum roles are in:

• learning & engagement (very education based, usually responsible for running events in museums and for doing community outreach)

• collections management (exactly what it says on the tin - responsible for managing storage conditions, cataloguing, organising loans and acquisitions, researching objects)

• development (which is all about organising funding for different aspects of the museum. part finance, part networking, part marketing - depending on the size of the museum, this might be a responsibility of the curator or of the museum director, or its own role/department.)

so thinking about which of these areas you might want to work in might help you focus on developing some specialist skills/experience for that!

i hope this was helpful - like i say, i am still looking for a job, but i'm also very young and inexperienced in comparison to others who were on my master's course, so i was expecting to have a hard time. people who had more museum experience have found it easier to get jobs, so keep on doing that! good luck!!

[growremotely]

Hire The Best Remote Talent

Hire the great remote talent with Grow Remotely to realize the full potential of your business. Geography shouldn't be a barrier to attaining elite abilities in the global business of today. A vast pool of vetted specialists within our network puts a wealth of knowledge at your fingertips.

Our specialty is putting you in touch with highly qualified remote employees that speak English well and are in sync with your schedule. We assist you in assembling the ideal team, composed of developers, designers, marketers, and project managers, to meet your unique requirements. You'll improve your workforce and cut expenses dramatically by drawing from our pool of outstanding remote talent. With Grow Remotely, discover the power of international talent acquisition.

[influencer-agency123]

Influencer Marketing for Food Brands in Dubai

A significant portion of the UAE's GDP comes from the food industry. Forecasts indicate that the food market will reach $40.07B by 2024, with annual growth of 4.89 percent up to 2028. Statista claims that this increase proves how critical it is for food companies to increase their brand awareness.

Through the transition of digital communication, influencer marketing for food brands has become a ubiquitous tactic for the acquisition of a vast audience in the food industry. Now, it's helping a lot of UAE food manufacturers achieve their aims. Let's take a look at an influencer marketing campaign that the best influencer marketing agency in Dubai for food brands ran and saw success with.

For instance, local influencer Ayesha, known for her simple Emirati dishes, collaborated with popular cooking brand Mama's Kitchen. Along with sharing recipes featuring Mama's Kitchen's new organic spices, Ayesha utilized them in her promotion. This kept her audience interested while demonstrating how the spices enhanced the taste. A specialist influencer marketing agency oversaw the campaign's execution in the background.

They picked the ideal influencer, came up with clever techniques, and connected with their target demographic. The campaign seemed like a well-coordinated event because of their work. Hiring a skilled chef to prepare a delicious dinner is a lot like working with a top influencer marketing company for food brands in GCC. Because, finding the correct partner is crucial for food businesses in the UAE. For food brands in Dubai,

Grynow is the best influencer marketing agency for food brands in Middle East to choose among many others. Their expertise and experience will be valuable in transforming your company to the next level. Moreover, they are the expert in whatever they do, and thus they can meet all your marketing needs.

If you are interested in increasing the recognition of your food brand in the UAE, Grynow is indeed capable of providing the best influencer marketing services for food brands exclusively. Let us find out how they can assist you to discover wonderful performances.

Influencer Marketing Services for Food Brands in UAE Offered By Grynow

The UAE food market is fast-growing and constantly evolving, as food brands have to create new concepts day by day to attract the attention of people with a palette. Therefore, the need to develop a tactical plan to counter the existing competition in this particular marketplace. That's where Grynow enters the picture. As one of the top Influencer marketing companies for food brands in UAE, its expertise consists of creating campaigns with mouth-watering influencers that are remembered long after the campaign is over.

1. Facebook Influencer Marketing For Food Brands

Facebook is not only a social networking site but also a digital dining room where people gather and share their interests. Grynow pairs food brands with influencers who can genuinely represent your products and curates a virtual feast. Grynow’s family-friendly recipes to gourmet explorations on Facebook make true connections with your target audience, and they get their message across loudly and clearly. This  Influencer marketing agency for food brands enables your brand to always remain relevant to people’s top concern and be featured on probes with the help of features like Stories and Reels.

2. Instagram Influencer Marketing For Food Brands

Instagram is a creative feast wherein story and beauty meet. Grynow rallied the best chefs who make your products look gorgeous by transforming them into works of art. Grynow is the best Influencer marketing company for food brands who creates campaigns on Instagram that are not only about looking good; they are the experiences that make the audience feel and act. The use of influencers who have a unique visual style helps them to create a brand story that is appealing to your target market.

3. YouTube Influencer Marketing For Food Brands

YouTube is the cooking classroom and the place where people loving food go to learn, to be entertained, and to discover new cooking horizons. Grynow is working with skilled educators who can make the product the star of the show. They can do everything from step-by-step tutorials to behind-the-scenes glimpses to top-notch YouTube campaigns which make your viewers have a front-row seat in the kitchen to the culinary magic. This Influencer marketing company for food brands makes content that is educational, lovely, and motivates viewers to cook your recipes.

4. LinkedIn Influencer Marketing For Food Brands

LinkedIn is the social gathering where business and pleasure meet. An outlet of this nature provides a place for professionals to connect and share knowledge. Grynow partners with the most powerful people who can help you become a game-changer in the food and beverage sector. As a renowned Influencer marketing platform for food brands, Grynow's LinkedIn campaigns generate such authority to your brand that it is referred to as a culinary expert using thought leadership content, strategic partnerships, and industry insights.

5. TikTok Influencer Marketing For Food Brands

TikTok is a world of fast food, its trends come and go as fast as it takes to blink an eye. The world on this platform where focus capturing is king. Grynow takes you on a TikTok trend by utilizing influencers who can develop short-form content that is both amusing and educating. As the best influencer marketing agency for food brands in Middle East, Grynow’sTikTok campaigns give you the chance to speak with a younger, tech-savvy audience and, as a result, stimulate engagement and brand awareness.

Conclusion

Consider the calories spent on choosing the right partner to represent your food brand in the UAE, which is a very important decision. Grynow proposes a straightforward method of mixing local market expertise with a wide network of influencers. Through social media, this is the leading Influencer marketing agency for food brands that can get your brand in front of more people, create an appealing image, and ultimately increase sales.

It doesn't matter whether you are a small food startup or a well-established brand, Grynow is capable of helping you achieve your marketing goals. Grynow is an experienced and top influencer marketing company for food brands in Mena that is more than just an agency; Grynow is your partner in building a successful food brand in the UAE.

Contact Grynow Media FZ LLC today to learn more about how we can help you.

[elsa16744]

Obstacles Confronting the Private Equity Sector

Laws and regulations have undergone significant changes, impacting how a private equity (PE) professional can meet clients’ demands for reliable investment and exit strategies. In recent years, amid geopolitical and financial upheavals, PE advisors have faced recessionary threats. This post will delve into the main obstacles the private equity sector will encounter in 2024.

An Overview of the Private Equity Sector

The PE sector centers on investing in private companies. Additionally, private equity researchers facilitate buyouts of public companies, transitioning them to private ownership. Regulatory requirements render private equity investments complex, yet PE firms remain in demand due to their long-term positive outlook.

Services Provided by Private Equity Experts

High-net-worth individuals (HNWIs) and institutional investors frequently utilize investment banking services for wealth management and privatization goals. Meanwhile, PE professionals assist them in several ways:

1| Long-Term Investment Guidance

PE investments extend over several years. Consequently, private equity firms can enhance the value of acquired companies through strategic management. Their innovative interventions go beyond operational improvements and financial restructuring, including data-driven market expansion, product development, and talent acquisition.

2| Active Capital Management

PE firms adopt a hands-on approach to portfolio management, differentiating themselves from passive investors. They employ experienced financial professionals and collaborate with tech consultants to optimize performance. Their active capital management methods attract investors seeking higher returns. The expertise of PE specialists provides reassurance and confidence in the investment.

3| Leverage

Private equity transactions frequently involve substantial borrowing to finance acquisitions, using the acquired company’s assets as collateral. This leverage can enhance returns but also increases risk. Consequently, stakeholders perceive private equity deals as high-stakes endeavors.

4| Exit Strategies

Initial public offerings (IPOs) allow PE firms to exit investments. Alternatively, selling to strategic buyers is common. They also conduct secondary sales to other private equity firms. These exit strategies can yield substantial returns for investors.

Primary Obstacles in the Private Equity Sector

1| Managing Inflation and Interest Rate Pressures

Global inflation and tighter monetary policies necessitate careful management of private market portfolios. Therefore, limited partners (LPs) must leverage the best tools and talents to assess the impact of these macroeconomic pressures on their portfolios.

LPs need to monitor margin erosion, cash flow generation, and debt covenants. They can reassess which portfolio companies will thrive despite inflation or interest rate pressures.

For example, an organization that leads its market or excels in maintaining strong customer and supplier relationships will likely outperform others. However, LPs and private equity professionals must evaluate whether it has contractual pricing with minimal exposure to input price volatility. These traits boost a company’s resilience to macroeconomic forces.

Similarly, portfolio companies with high cash conversion ratios or conservative capital structures will be more rewarding. Businesses with flexible terms are expected to thrive in challenging market conditions.

Conversely, companies lacking these attributes will likely face significant challenges in the private equity sector. Therefore, stakeholders must pay closer attention to them.

2| Data Availability and Validation Issues

Private equity stakeholders require accurate data on an enterprise’s corporate performance, legal compliance, and sustainability commitments. Public information sources may not provide sufficient insights into target businesses' core metrics and risk-reward dynamics. Premium data providers might also employ data-driven profiling and recommendation reporting.

Insufficient information and poor data quality hinder PE stakeholders' portfolio improvement efforts. They must navigate markets using well-validated intelligence rather than biased information from public platforms. Malicious actors can falsify claims about a brand’s performance due to undisclosed interests.

Therefore, ensuring data quality to develop the best portfolio strategies remains a significant challenge, underscoring the need for ethical, transparent, and tech-savvy PE experts.

3| Employee Retention Challenges

Retaining top talent is crucial for PE firms to succeed in the private equity sector. Therefore, private equity managers and researchers must foster a healthy workplace culture that allows professionals to grow based on performance metrics. They must also offer competitive compensation packages and retention bonuses.

Collaborating with consultants to create guidelines and training programs can support your core team. Additionally, utilizing automation and third-party assistance can reduce the workload on employees. If PE firms neglect their employees' interests, staff may leave or underperform. Miscommunication between leaders and team members can exacerbate this issue, leading to high employee turnover.

4| Increasing Competition Amidst Fewer New Businesses

Private equity firms have grown by 58% between 2016 and 2021. However, new company registrations often include more startups, with few qualifying to raise funds through PE-supported pathways. While PE research providers have increased, established companies and investors must select the best ones.

As a result, firms and financial professionals have developed strategies to overcome competition-related obstacles in the private equity sector. They offer multiple buyout methods and leverage fintech scalability. They have also enhanced risk-reward modeling and data sourcing to meet clients’ expectations, particularly regarding legal compliance requirements.

However, processing a deal may not always proceed as initially envisioned. Although company owners, limited partners, and interested investors witness new deals, only a fraction reach completion. Therefore, PE businesses seeking a competitive edge must expedite screening, feasibility reporting, and data gathering with modern technologies. This approach is essential for private equity stakeholders to identify the right deals with long-term benefits.

Conclusion

The private equity sector must navigate macroeconomic risks such as inflation, tight monetary policies, and data quality issues. Embracing innovative fintech systems and engaging domain experts to optimize internal processes can help. If each PE firm enhances its operations, it will succeed despite public companies and strategic buyers adopting buy-to-sell principles for business acquisitions.

Competition from fellow PE firms for a relatively stable number of viable businesses seeking investors has prompted a more dynamic and risk-taking approach. Amid these obstacles facing the private equity sector in 2024, firms must prioritize talent acquisition and employee retention. Additionally, limited partners must continually revisit, expand, and optimize their portfolios as global events continue to impact PE deals.

[wild-karrde]

In Command - Part 7

Master List | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: ALRIGHT KIDS, from here on out, this fic is rated E. This is an 18+ blog and minors shouldn't be here anyway, but in case it needs saying, MINORS SKEEDADDLE.

I didn't originally write the fic this way because I wasn't sure I was comfortable writing smut at that time, but I've done a lot of thinking on the rewrite and feel that it fits with the story. I didn't want to write anything that felt forced, but I do feel that the moments that will be included add to the story rather than just checking the box to make it "E" rated, you know? If you want to read a rated M version of this fic, you can do so on AO3. Anyway, THANK YOU as always to the outstanding @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this and talking through all the concerns/worries I had about this (and ultimately giving me the final bit of assurance I needed to change the story in this way).

Chapter Rating: E

Warnings: explicit sexual content (oral sex, PiV sex, cum eating, masturbation), suicidal thoughts mention, language

Word Count: 5.6k words

Somehow, even through a hologram, Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan carried a distinct amount of approachability and respect that made it easy to see why he had been one of the most revered government officials of the Galactic Republic. While some of his notoriety seemed to have lapsed amongst his colleagues in favor of more loyalist politicians, he still held a kind and welcoming demeanor that made him easy to trust. Even as Rex updated him on their acquisition of the decryption disk, he smiled, nodding engagingly at Rex as his image flickered on the holoprojector in the clone captain’s hand. 

“This is excellent work. And you’re right Captain, this could potentially be very significant. If you and Specialist Aven can create several copies of the decryption disk, we’ll send a courier and ensure that they get into the right hands.” 

“Roger that, sir. Senna’s already working on it.”

Senna smiled to herself from her place out of view of the hologram. She could admit she was proud of what they’d accomplished, but she certainly hadn’t expected any recognition for it. She’d always thought a lot of Organa though, so having the affirmation come from him and Rex warmed her from the inside out. 

“Excellent.” Even through the pixelated image, it was clear that Organa was unsettled about something.

“Is there…something else, sir?” Rex asked.

The hologram flickered again as the Senator ran one hand through his dark hair, which Senna noted had accrued more grey along his temples. “You two have already given us everything that we could hope for and more in terms of intelligence on Lothal, but I fear we have more to ask of you,” Organa replied, clearly hesitant. 

The ‘we’ had always been something Senna never openly questioned, but it was something she pondered about often, unsure of who else was standing with them in this enterprise. There had been rumors of other less-organized rebel cells that had been wiped out by the Empire with little effort, and she wondered once more if their luck held because of their powerful benefactors that somehow managed to divert attention away from them. She understood the need to limit information on who exactly was involved, particularly if they worked in the Senate, but that didn’t keep her mind from looking for clues along the way. 

The senator from Alderaan was still speaking. “This…superweapon that you’ve caught wind of is very concerning. We’ve heard mention of it from other colleagues with similar interests, so it appears that this may be more than Imperial posturing over comm networks. We need the two of you to try and glean as much information as you can about it.”

“We’ll do our best, sir,” Rex assured. 

Wonder who those ‘other colleagues’ could be, Senna wondered for the thousandth time, biting her tongue as she remained out of view. If he’s hearing about it, then surely its other Senators. Right? Or maybe they have someone on the inside? That seems less likely. 

“Do you have any promising sources that you could lean on or persuade to help us?” Organa asked, interrupting Senna’s silent speculations.

Senna turned to look at Rex. He normally took these calls alone, but lately he’d started allowing her to listen in. She assumed it was a sign of their trust and partnership growing, but even still, she was surprised when Rex motioned her over to stand within view of the holo’s communication field. She hesitantly walked across the room to stand next to him, keeping a respectable distance between the two of them.

“I’ll defer to Senna on that one,” Rex stated, and she didn’t miss the hint of pride in his voice. “She’s been instrumental in creating sources where I wouldn’t have thought possible. All of the people I’ve attempted to get information out of are ill-informed at best and proudly obtuse at worst.”

Senna felt a heat in her cheeks at his praise and bit back a sheepish grin. “Yes…um. I think that perhaps our neighbors have been exhausted in terms of significant information. Brak is vain, but he’s not stupid. He knows where the line is in terms of sharing information. I honestly think the initial mention over dinner was an uncharacteristic slip, and I don’t think we’ll necessarily get more out of them unless we get extremely lucky.”

Organa nodded, stroking his beard in contemplation. “What about the Imperial commander we initially got the disk from? Do you think he’s of any further use?”

Senna’s stomach dropped at the mention of Fisk, and she felt Rex’s eyes on her, gauging her reaction. She steeled herself, jutting her chin out defiantly. 

Not about to let that piece of bantha shit get under my skin. Not while he’s still useful.

“I do, Senator. Commander Fisk is eager to break protocol, particularly since he believes I find that trait…alluring.” She heard Rex make a quiet noise next to her, although she couldn’t be sure if it was a huff of a laugh or a snort of disgust. She pressed on anyway, ignoring him. “I am positive we can glean more information from him, and I am confident he has higher clearances than Brak. He may know the specifics of the weapon that would prove helpful to our cause.”

Organa did not appear to note her discomfort, but Rex’s eyes never left her. She avoided looking at him as the senator paced a few more times before responding. “Very well. Keep working him, and see if you can build out additional sources. I’ll alert you once we have a courier to come and pick up the disks. Keep me apprised of any new developments.”

“Yes sir,” Rex and Senna murmured in unison.

“May the Force be with you both.” The hologram faded in Rex’s hand, and Senna slowly let a breath out next to him.

“You know, you don’t have to keep working Fisk if you’re uncomfortable. We can find another way,” he said quietly.

Ah there it is. Knew he couldn’t help himself. 

“This is the best way, and you know it,” she sighed, fighting the urge to smile at Rex’s concern. “The information he’s willing to give up is just too good. I’ll be fine.”

“We could tell the senator how he treats you, and I’m sure he’d stop pressing the matter.”

“I said I’m fine, Rex,” she replied with a little more heat than intended.

He sighed defeatedly. “Alright. When are you meeting him next?”

“Not sure yet. Maybe he doesn’t want another date.”

“Those types of men always want another date.”

She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Stereotypes, Rex? I thought you’d be above all that.”

“Mhm,” he grunted noncommittally.  

Senna nudged him with her shoulder. “Come on. It’s time to eat. I’m starving.”

—

The two of them had made a habit of eating at least one meal a day together since Empire Day. Before, they’d hardly seen each other throughout the day, cautiously avoiding one another if possible, but with the easing of tensions between them, they had both felt more comfortable around each other with every passing rotation. 

It had started one day when Senna made a large batch of noodles as usual, choosing to eat at their small dining table with her datapad in hand rather than slinking back up to her cave. Rex had returned home, helped himself to what was left, and plopped down across from her. Neither of them had noted the moment as exceptional, but it immediately became a habit after that.

They normally talked through the intelligence that they had gathered throughout the day, making connections and comparing notes while Senna punched info into her datapad with the hand she wasn’t using to eat. The conversation also occasionally turned to personal questions as they took more time to get to know each other. No matter the subject of conversation, it had become a small ritual that Rex looked forward to.

Even though he was home earlier than usual for the meeting, Senna had volunteered to cook tonight, and it didn’t take long for the scent of roasting meat and spices to permeate throughout the dwelling. Rex helped where she would allow him, chopping vegetables or stirring whatever she had simmering on the stove. A short while later, they sat down at the table together with two bowls of stew and rice, Senna’s nose already partially buried in her datapad. After a few moments, she let out a deep sigh and set the datapad down, tipping her head back and scrubbing her hands over her face. 

Rex paused mid-chew to glance up at her. “What’s wrong?”

Senna leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and Rex had to stifle a chuckle at how her hair was now sticking up at odd angles from her frustrated mussing. “Oh nothing,” she muttered. “I just set up the next meet up with Fisk. We’re going to dinner together next week at some Imperial haunt. Can’t wait to get that over with.”

He paused, choosing his words carefully and knowing they may still start an argument. “Senna, again, you should tell Organa that you aren’t comfortable. He’d be mortified if he knew what you’re enduring with Fisk. I don’t think he’d consider it worth it.”

She rolled her shoulders, picking at her food. “It’s nothing. I’ll be fine. Besides, he’s not the worst guy I’ve dated.”

Rex couldn’t stop himself from raising an eyebrow at that. “Oh? I sense there’s a story there.” She shot him a look, and he smirked, giving her an innocent shrug. “Just making conversation. Plus, I thought attachments were forbidden for the Jedi,” he teased. 

Not that that stopped some of them.

She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes. “He was just a guy I met shortly after the war ended, so at that point, not technically a Jedi anymore. I was looking for a soft place to land, and he certainly seemed like it at the beginning. Wasn’t the worst lay, and I had some things I was working through, so he was at least good for that much. But…things changed pretty quickly once he…” her voice trailed off.

“Once he what?” Rex pressed, trying to keep his eyebrows from rocketing up to his hairline at Senna’s casual demeanor. He’d known that some Jedi did go looking for physical comfort when they felt like it, but to hear it laid out so nonchalantly still surprised him, especially coming from the woman who seemed more interested in a circuit board than any one human.

She met his eyes again. “Once he started expressing anti-clone sentiment every chance it came up in conversation.”

Rex remained silent as she continued, still poking at a chunk of meat in her stew. 

“I don’t understand how people can think that way. You are all living breathing things, you’re no different from me other than how you came to exist. Behaving as though you shouldn’t have the basic right to life and happiness of every other sentient thing is just absolutely deplorable.”

Rex hesitated before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “We were created for a specific purpose, to be soldiers. In some people’s eyes, that makes us equivalent to the droids we fought against. Disposable.”

“But how could people think that way? You…you’re people, Rex.”

“You don’t have to tell me. But, not everyone served alongside us in the war like you did.”

Senna’s eyes practically glowed with anger. “You shouldn’t have to spend time with someone to decide they’re worthy of empathy.” 

Rex nodded. The way in which a vast majority of the galaxy viewed him and his brothers had been a difficult thing to come to terms with at first, but ultimately, he had decided early on not to let it weigh too heavily on his mind. Instead, he’d chosen to focus on the good in people that did treat the clones with respect. And keeping his brothers alive. 

There was supposed to be a time and place to worry about the rest of it. After the war.

Senna was watching him carefully. 

“What?” he asked. 

She gave him a small smile. “Nothing. It’s just…you have a very charitable view of the galaxy. One that I didn’t expect from you.”

“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a bit of a grump sometimes, Rex.”

He chuckled at that. “And you aren’t?”

“I never said that.” 

Silence hung between them for a few moments before Rex spoke up. “For what it’s worth, I do appreciate how you and other Jedi treated my brothers and I. I just didn’t see a reason to expend much energy trying to change the minds of people that didn’t respect us. At least not when I was still fighting a war.” 

“That makes sense,” Senna conceded. “And it gives more grace than is deserved. It just turns my stomach when I hear people talk like that. I formed some of the strongest friendships I’ve ever had with your brothers. They were my family during the war. And you. It’s the same with you.”

Rex quietly sipped his drink, not sure how to respond. He did his best to ignore the fluttering in his chest. 

“I take it you ended it then,” he finally joked.

Senna sniffed. “And broke his nose.”

Rex snorted out a laugh. “Atta girl.”

Senna appraised him, raising her glass to her lips. “So what about you?” 

“What about me?”

“Do you have any horrific romantic encounters to regale me with?”

He laughed. “No, I’m afraid not. I’ve had people come in and out of my life, but never any that were serious enough to be classified as a ‘partner’. Wasn’t exactly much time during the war for anything other than the occasional encounter, and I haven’t really made time since.”

Senna giggled, covering her mouth. “Now, that is unexpected.”

“Oh, so you’re allowed to blow off steam and I’m not?” he countered. 

“It’s not that! You just strike me as a serial monogamist rather than someone looking for a one-night stand. Someone interested in the long haul or nothing at all. A gentleman and romantic,” she teased. 

Rex huffed a laugh, wrapping his hands around his glass as he contemplated her words. 

“In another life, you’d probably be right,” he agreed. 

Senna was silent for a few moments. “Is it something you want?” she finally asked quietly.

He thought about it, his mind drifting to Cut and Suu and their children. He had seen firsthand what life outside of the war could look like, and it had appealed to him at the time, but everything changed with Order 66.

“Yes, if the time and the person was right, I think I would. It’s hard to imagine it anymore, but there was a time I thought having a farm with a wife and children would be what I’d do after the war.”

“A farm huh?”

“It seems quiet, and quiet would have been nice.”

Senna gave him a sad smile. “And yet, here you are.”

“Here I am.” He traced some of the condensation on his glass with his thumb. “Still fighting.”

She chewed quietly for a few minutes, and he watched her mull over the next thing she wanted to ask.

“Do you ever regret not walking away after the war? Just hiding out on some remote world, starting a new life?” Her gaze grew distant with the question. 

Rex thought about it for a moment. “Sometimes. But this is the only life I’ve ever known. It’s what’s right, and if I had walked away from it all, I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep at night. Not that I do much of that anyway,” he joked dryly. “You?”

Senna fidgeted with the end of her braid. “Not to uh, get too dark here, but after Order 66, I felt like I had no real reason to…stick around.” The words she chose to use didn’t soften the blow for Rex. He felt his stomach twist as he imagined Senna, feeling so alone and hopeless that she’d consider such a path. 

Her gaze was focused on a point well past him, reaching back for those memories. “I’d lost everything I’d ever known and loved. It wasn’t like I was planning to stick a blaster in my mouth necessarily, but if I’d been hit by a speeder or a rogue meteorite, I would have welcomed it. As it happened, I just wandered aimlessly until I stumbled onto Gerrera and his people. And then, it was like I had a purpose again, a reason for living. I’d never really given thought to life beyond the war because I didn’t think I needed to. I was going to keep tinkering at the Temple, maybe take a Padawan if it struck me. But my life was very much laid out before me in fairly narrow margins until everything fell apart.”

He listened silently as she picked at her food some more, slowly meeting his eyes with a small smile. “Sorry, really bringing the mood down huh?”

Rex shrugged again. “I asked. Not your fault it’s a sad story. And knowing who you are, what you are, it’s not shocking that it ended that way.”

“At least it didn’t completely end, I suppose.”

He raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that.” 

Senna gave him a soft smile, gently clinking her glass against his in a toast. 

“Yeah alright.” She popped the last bite of food into her mouth. “I’m gonna go tinker in the shed for a bit. Want to make a few more adjustments to the speeder bike.”

“Just make sure you put it all back together, alright?”

“Yes, Lon,” she said sarcastically as she stepped out the back door.

Rex rolled his eyes, rising to clear the remnants of their dinner from the table.

—

The night was cool and clear as Senna made her way through their backyard and along the outer wall to the back door of the shed. It helped take the edge off the memories she’d dredged up at dinner. A weight had settled into the pit of her stomach while she recalled her aimless drifting after the war. It had been the most lost she’d ever felt in her life, and she’d wandered blindly from planet to planet, barely acknowledging anything going on around her. All of that had changed when she met Saw Gerrera. 

Senna still couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had made her trip the stormtroopers by knocking over several crates, but in that moment, everything had changed. Gerrera had taken her under his wing immediately. She’d thought she’d seen his sharp green eyes dart to her hip where her lightsaber was concealed once or twice, but he’d never asked if she was Force sensitive. It seemed he’d been very grateful to have help in that moment, and that seemed to be enough for him. It was such a small moment that put her back on her path, a hand reaching down to her when she was at her lowest, and no matter what, it was a debt she felt she’d never be able to repay, but she would expend her last breath for the rebellion if it was called for.

She punched the unlock code into the door panel and slipped into the shed. The speeder bike was still on the lift where she had left it, and she turned on the lights, humming as she gathered the tools she’d need to finish repairing it. Satisfied that she was equipped with what she needed, Senna crawled underneath the lifted bike, inhaling the smell of engine grease. She relaxed her shoulders, letting them settle against the dusty ground before she let her fingers drift up to the power coupler wiring she’d been fiddling with earlier, and it was as if everything else slipped away. 

This was where she felt the most peace, with machinery and her tools. She worked carefully, soldering wires together and tightening bolts as grease smeared down her forearms, humming quietly to herself. After an hour or so, Senna smiled, satisfied at her upgrades. 

“That should do it,” she muttered to herself. “Or at least get Rex off my back. Now where did I put that ten mil wrench?”

Twisting underneath the bike, she finally spotted it on the workbench across the shed. 

Of course it’s all the way over there. 

She sighed, laying back in the dirt in frustration. 

Unless…

Lifting her head to look at the bench again, she stretched out her fingers and closed her eyes, reaching out through the Force. Her brow furrowed as the first tendrils of warmth flowed through her body, creeping along her extremities. It was a comforting presence, one that she had missed. Tears leapt to her eyes, and she chuckled quietly. 

Hello old friend. 

Senna was out of practice, but she eventually heard the sound of metal scraping across the workbench surface as the wrench slid towards her. She let out a triumphant huff, feeling the tool drawing near. It was about halfway across the shed, hovering in the air when the shed door slid open with a hiss. Senna’s eyes snapped open and the wrench clattered to the ground as Rex stood in the doorway.

“Oh…sorry. Didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said sheepishly. 

Senna blew out a frustrated sigh. “You didn’t. Just wanted to see if I still had anything left in the tank.” She turned her hand over, examining her fingertips. 

Damn. 

Rex walked across the shed, stooping down to slide the wrench over to her. “You seem out of practice.”

“Very observant,” she muttered, letting her head fall back into the dirt. “Like I said, I severed my connection to the Force. Being connected and being able to use it again will take time.”

“Didn’t seem to be an issue on Empire Day, and I had the bruises to prove it,” he teased.

She looked at him sternly from under the bike. “Strong emotions like that make it easier to channel the Force, but that was not the way I was taught to use it.” Senna studied her palm, running her thumb along one of the lines there as she remembered that night. Her face burned with shame. “I reacted out of anger and grief, and those emotions are not what I should be using when I reach out through the Force.” She furrowed her brow, the memory haunting her as she tightened the last bolts. 

“What’s done is done,” Rex offered, clearly trying to absolve her. “The only thing to do now is move forward.”

“And never let it happen again,” Senna added, sliding out from under the bike. She lowered the lift and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, smearing some grease across her cheek and forehead. “There. That should get you from Point A to Point B.” 

“Much obliged,” Rex chuckled, turning to face her. A smirk spread across his face as he took in the black smudge smeared across her cheek. Taking a rag off the workbench, he closed the space between them, and suddenly he was close, closer than he’d been since Empire Day. Senna’s breath caught in her throat as Rex took her chin in one hand, wiping at the grease mark with the rag. 

“I uh…might be smearing it more,” he said softly, a smile playing across his lips.

Senna felt her face burning under his touch, her eyes meeting his and holding for half a beat too long. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity and not long enough, his thumb gently grazing her jawline as her eyes drifted to his lips. 

Maker, he’s handsome, she thought. She noted the way the corners of his eyes creased when he smiled, the small scar on his chin, the warmth of his fingers against her skin. She leaned back against the workbench, and she couldn’t be certain, but it felt like Rex pressed closer, his gaze flicking down to her mouth and back to her eyes. 

Oh. Oh kriff.

The sound of someone laughing loudly in the street outside the shed door broke the spell, and they almost leapt apart, Rex clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck while Senna’s cheeks flushed with heat. 

“Umm…the speeder bike shouldn’t be making that weird noise anymore. Wanna fire it up?” she asked, turning her back to him to hide the flush of her face. She was certain she was blushing from neck to hairline. 

“Yeah um…sure,” Rex replied, walking to the bike and pressing the ignition switch. The speeder hummed to life, whirring gently. He stood back, glancing at her with a proud smile. “Wow. That’s the quietest it’s ever been.” 

There was no tension in his shoulders, no worry or nerves in his expression when he looked at her. Senna blinked stupidly at him. 

Did I just imagine all of that? 

She cleared her throat, trying to recover. “Yeah, well it should run a little bit more efficiently as well.”

“Efficiency is always good.”

“Yep.” The awkward silence hung in the air for a few beats before Senna edged towards the door. “Alright, well I still have some…er…work to do upstairs. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Yeah. G’night,” he replied as she slipped out the door.

Senna tried to keep her pace unrushed as she walked back across the yard, her heart thundering in her chest. 

What the kriff were you thinking? He just started to come around to you, and here you are, making tooka eyes at him like a fool. You must have drank too much at dinner because you are absolutely out of your gourd, Aven. 

She marched up the stairs as quickly as she could, shutting the door to the office behind her and leaning against the wall, trying to calm her pulse. Unconsciously, her fingers traced the place on her jaw where Rex had held her face. The skin was still on fire.

She groaned, clapping her hands over her face. 

Absolutely not. You can’t do this. He’s a professional. He will absolutely pull you out of this if he thinks you’re compromised, especially if he’s the reason.

And the rebellion is where you belong. You can’t let yourself get sidetracked.   

Closing her eyes, she took a few deep breaths. 

You’ve just been alone too long. 

She heard the sound of Rex coming in the back door and walking by the base of the stairs, where he paused. Her breath quickened again until she heard his footfalls move towards his room.

Letting loose one last weary sigh, Senna walked to her desk, scanning the various parts scattered everywhere. She was getting closer to completing the comm node, but still needed several key components. Might be time to make a run over to Triv’s.

Her eyes fell on the carved wooden box she had shoved to the corner of her desk, lingering for a moment. She felt the phantom weight and coolness of the box’s contents against her palm. Her fingers flexed. 

Maybe someday.

Sitting down, Senna pulled over the board she’d been soldering components to before their meeting with Senator Organa. She worked for a few more hours, installing the components and doing continuity checks as she progressed. Finally, when her vision began to blur from exhaustion, she managed to drag herself to her room, barely managing to kick off her boots before she tumbled into bed and fell asleep. 

—

Blue eyes found his in the dim lighting, lips parted slightly as she stood before him, blue lace cradling her every curve and leaving little to the imagination. Her brunette waves tangled around his fingers as his lips traced the curve of her jaw. He could feel her pulse jump beneath his touch as his teeth grazed her throat. 

“Rex.” 

Her voice was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard, and his heart stuttered in his chest. He pulled back, grazing his thumb along her lower lip, which dropped open in welcome, her tongue laving at the pad of the digit before her lips locked around it, suckling gently. 

Rex groaned. 

“On your knees, pretty girl,” he rasped. 

Senna knelt before him, trailing her fingers down his bare chest as her eyes stayed locked with his. She rested her cheek against his thigh as one hand worked at the zipper of his trousers. Pulling his pants open, she nuzzled against the fabric of his briefs, her nose pressed against the outline of his throbbing cock. 

“Take what you want, Senna,” he pleaded. 

She grinned wickedly, her fingernails tracing the waistband before slipping underneath and pulling downward. His hard cock sprung free, and she reached for it, her fingers locking around it as her tongue traced along the vein that ran along the bottom. His breath stuttered as she took him into her mouth, sucking gently before she took him to the back of her throat, keeping her eyes locked on his. She hummed around his cock. 

Maker, she’s beautiful like this. What did I do to deserve her?

It was all alarmingly familiar, as if they’d done this a million times and would a million more. She released his cock, stroking him gently as she nipped at the skin on his hip. 

“I love you, Rex.”

“Senna, I-” 

He came hard, his spend spilling across the lace of her lingerie and the tops of her breasts, glistening in the moonlight that shone in through the windows. He couldn’t even be bothered to be ashamed as she pulled his spent cock towards her lips. 

“Let me clean you off, my love.” 

Rex jolted awake, gasping and sweating as he sat bolt-upright, chest heaving. He glanced around the room wildly for a moment before realizing his briefs were uncomfortably wet. Glancing down, he groaned in frustration at the sight of the wet patch on the front of his underwear. 

“Like a kriffin’ shiny,” he muttered, clambering out of bed and digging through his set of drawers for a clean pair to change into. Stumbling blearily into the small refresher attached to his room, he punched on the light and glared at himself in the mirror. His pulse was still racing. 

Shit. That was Senna. 

Unlike many of the dreams he’d had that faded when he awoke, he couldn’t seem to scrub the image from his mind of his companion on her knees, staring up at him expectantly with those blue eyes of hers. He shuddered as his cock twitched again between his legs. His mind returned to that moment earlier in the evening. 

Had she wanted me to kiss her? Kriff, we were so close, and the way she was looking at me…

I wonder what her lips taste like. 

He shook his head violently.  

Absolutely not. Maker alive, has it been so long that you lose it the first time you’re in close proximity to an attractive woman? 

Even his internal chiding didn’t stop the image of his cum on Senna’s chest from invading his mind once more. Before he could get his imagination under control, his mind betrayed him, drifting back to his dream. And for the first time in a long time, Rex let go.

Just tension release. That’s all it is. Just this once.

Rex closed his eyes, allowing his hand to slip under the waistband of his sullied briefs, and he began stroking his hardening cock, bracing his opposite hand against the wall. His shoulders relaxed as his mind wandered, returning to the last moments of his dream. 

He ran his fingers through the warm spend that coated her chest before offering it to Senna, and she willingly sucked his fingers clean, moaning around them. Her eyes burned into his before she closed them in bliss, humming and releasing his fingers with a pop.

Rex grunted, sweat beginning to reappear on his brow as his fantasy ran unchecked. 

Senna slipped the lace panties down her legs before laying back on the bed, her knees parting as she reached for him. Her folds were glistening as he slotted his hips between her legs. Her heels dug into his back, urging him forward.

“Rex. I need you.” 

His grip around his length tightened. He panted loudly, his hips jerking more frantically as his muscles flexed and tensed. The fingers of his unoccupied hand clawed at the cool tiles of the wall. 

She arched into his touch, her nails digging into the back of his neck as he thrust into her. He could smell her skin, all sweat and that hint of sandalwood and her. Just like in the shed, but now better. Closer. 

His.

Her cunt clenched around him as she gently bit his earlobe. Her breath was warm against the shell of his ear as she whined quietly. 

“Rex. Don’t stop.” 

With a final groan, Rex coated his knuckles in a second release. Unable to stay upright, he doubled over as he finished himself off, groaning as quietly as he could. 

Karking hells. 

When his pulse finally slowed, he straightened, glaring at himself in the mirror as if he were reprimanding a subordinate. 

Get it together.

Quickly, he stripped out of his soiled undergarments, cleaning himself off before changing into the clean pair and chucking the evidence of his shame into the clothes pile in the corner. He wiped the sweat from his brow, splashing some water on his face to ensure the last traces of the dream were fully chased from his mind. Shooting his reflection one last stern look, he slapped the light back off and returned to his bed. 

You’ve got to work with this woman. Don’t let yourself get lost in a fantasy just because she’s the closest person around. 

Despite his best efforts and adamant misgivings, he drifted off thinking of blue eyes and the smell of sandalwood. 

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @obihiddlenox @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @sleepingsun501 @ladykagewaki @arctrooper69

[lilyblackdrawside]

Inam - 6-Star Lord Guard

Elite 2, Level 90 Stats

2650 HP 701 Atk 380 Def 10 Res 70s Redeploy Time 20 DP Cost 2 Block 1.3s Attack Interval

Trust Boni

+400 Hp +70 Atk

Potential Boni

2 Deployment Cost -1 3 Redeployment Cooldown -4s 4 +200 HP 5 +27 Def 6 Deployment Cost -1

Talent 1 Maximize Available Assets When deployed, increases the SP recovery rate of all Vanguards by +0.2~0.4/second (only the highest effect of this type takes place) and all Vanguard Operators’ Def +10%~20%

Talent 2 Acquire Knowledge Gains +3% HP for each Vanguard, Guard, Defender and Sniper in the squad and +3 Res for each Caster, Medic, Supporter and Specialist in the squad

Rank 7/Mastery 3

Skill 1

Wicked Chop On-Attack Charge, Auto 3 SP, 0 Initial SP

The next melee attack deals 400/460% atk pure damage over 4s to the target.

Skill 2

Great Chief’s Show of Artistry On-Attack Charge, Manual 20/15 SP, 7/10 Initial SP, 16s Duration

Gain +50/80%Atk, Attack interval halved. Attacks leave a stacking mark on the target that inflicts -3/4% movement speed and -3/4 aspd per stack. One second before skill ends, the mark is removed and deals 80/110% atk physical damage per stack to the target.

Skill 3

Power of Money Automatic Charge, Manual

35/30 SP, 0 Initial SP

Consume all currently held DP to gain permanent, stacking buffs to Atk, ASPD and Phys/Arts damage reduction. +7/10% Atk, +7/10 aspd, +1/1.25% Phys/Arts damage reduction per 20 DP. If used at >=99 DP, refunds 50% SP.

Base Skill 1 Great Chief’s Coordination When stationed in a Trading Post, sets order acquisition efficiency of other Sargon operators, Gavial and Gavial the Invincible to 0 and then increases it to +35%.

Base Skill 2 Lead by Example Gains +10% order acquisition efficiency per other Sargon Operator stationed in trading posts, up to +50%.

The theme here is being a Lord Guard who doesn't do any Arts damage that she would have above average basic tankiness just through her stats. She's still not tanky-tanky, but within her subclass she's quite sturdy. She can then leverage her defensive bases by using her very strong S1 or with S3 (I'll go more into S3 in a bit). I also worked her background into the whole thing a bit.

Initially I had S1 modular with it letting her ranged attacks ricochet if she uses it not in melee, but I think this is better. It's more interesting and could incentivize different positioning. I made the dot pure damage because that's funny.

S2 is more for ranged play and designed to take down elites and bosses. It's very straightforward to use, even if it might look a bit complicated. Activate it and she goes nuts on whoever is the closest in her range and when it's about to time out her target is vaporized. I made the stats up with around 20 attacks within 15 seconds in mind. With just the halved attack delay she actually manages just above 24, but the slowing effects shouldn't be too harsh, since by the time they're stacked that high, the skill is about to expire anyway. Would be mildly busted in Integrated Strategies if you get enough aspd and stack -100% move and aspd onto an enemy, but that's okay. Don't worry about it.

Okay, S3. So that's the meme skill. It's the one you make funny videos with. Yes, she can reach 100% Phys and Arts resist. It costs 1600 DP, up to 2000 if you also go for the SP discounts. At that point she also has +800% ATK and +800 ASPD. (7 attacks/s) The earliest you could get this, going just by pure SP is after five and a half minutes. Of course you also need to generate the required 2000 DP + however much you need to deploy your operators within that time. Stages don't tend to last that long, but if you want, you can also give her some form of SP charge and go for it. Something like Ptilopsis, Warfarin, Inam, Myrtle, Elysium, Saileach and the next six best DP generators. Probably a bunch of Pioneers, I don't know. Might be problematic in Annihilation I guess, but nobody's looking.

Anyway, this was fun. I was going to do a full fake operator sheet but Krita krashed and I lost Kritacal progress so this is what I got.

[colleenmurphy]

Grey Queen's Court / It's Bitch Craft Verse

The Queen still doesn't have a 'true title' yet in my mind but it's slowly getting there. Trying to flesh out the court a little bit, so here goes.

The Henchmen / The Hounds - A band of merry trouble making young Dukes of the Grey Queen's Court. Take on a very dedicated canine appearance while in the mortal realm. Rescues from the Winter King's Court. Training under the Knave of Roses' tutelage.

Lord Petrus of the Greenlands / Thomaz Zieliński - A large nobleman that oversees the midsummer meadows later goes on to become the King of the Rose Court. In the human world he oversees the New York City Parks Department.

The Winter King Fergal the Winter Court / Francis 'Frank' Patrick Flannery - The raving lunatic that once held Col's hand in marriage. A true monster she's set out to hunt to the ends of the earth. Lives for pain and destruction of all that is good in the world. In the human realm he deals in all make and manner of crime and corruption, his latest is running a used car dealership in Hoboken NJ.

Lord William O' Good / Billy Goode - Personal assassin and loyal confidant to both the Grey Queen and King but also the Courts of Spring and Summer. A Secret Keeper in the Society of D'Nan along with his cousin Micajah 'Cage' Astwood / Lord Thistlewood of the Summer Court. Knave of Roses. Owns the local record store 'Goode Music'

Mary Colleen Murphy / Macha Danu Lady of the Roses - Daughter of the goddess Danu and the Imbolc Lord Machallan of the Grey Lands she tip toes precariously through the veils and Fae Courts. Balance keeper & karmic enforcer for women / Key Holder to the Rose Garden. Runs the tavern and bed and breakfast in a tiny little hamlet in upstate New York. Was once a force to be reckoned with in the mergers and acquisitions department of the large city firm. That was long ago before Frank ruined her. Now she'd found balance in the quiet.

Helene Marie Starling / Lady Helene of the Spring Blossoms ( Later Queen of the Spring / Green Courts ) - Daughter to king of the Spring court, King Hervé II and Lady Grace of the Autumn Court. Helene brings both balance and calm to both realms and is a steadfast confidant and best friend to Colleen. Without her vast knowledge of botany and herbology as well as her compassionate nature the world ( and Colleen) would be lost. Brings beauty to the unexpected. Guardian of children and small woodland creatures. In the mortal realm she takes the guise of a small town florist and specialist botany professor at large for the Swanmoore School as well as Chestervale College.

Elizabeth D'Ardenville / Lady Elizabeth of the Summer Court ( Later Queen of the Fae Fire Court ) - Steadfast warrior to her people and equally solid friend to Colleen. She is the spark of imagination in a child's eyes, the burning desire to succeed and the confidence to see it through. Without her mankind would grind to a halt and slowly extinguish itself. Guardian of the Hearth and home. In the mortal realm she exudes confidence and unarmed power; teaches yoga and self defense at the local civic center in weekends. Her day job? blown glass artist who oversees the Artisan Collective Board at Swanmoore School of the Arts as well as instructs the master class

[everybodyknows-everybodydies]

would love to hear more about your tes characters if you'd like to share :)

omg hello! well. since you asked!! adjusts my spectacles in a scholarly fashion. under the cut to save dash space!

Skyrim: Kharish gra-Shatul (Orsimer)

tall! buff!! femme!! ...who lives in Winterhold and so nobody ever gets to see the beef because of all the layers required by the cold :( (<-sad face mine bc I love women's muscles. she does not particularly care whether they are visible as long as they remain effective.) Kharish joins the College of Winterhold a few years prior to the game questline, first just as Urag's general assistant, then as the library's acquisitions specialist following the successful retrieval of a particularly interesting scrap of Shalidor's notes. she takes her position very seriously and has developed a correspondence with some other notable libraries (under the pen name "Violetta," because she's found some of her pen pals professional contacts are less likely to respond dismissively if the letter is not attached to an obviously Orsimer name). specializes primarily in alteration because it's useful for conservation of old texts, but knows her way around some conjuration as well. has a VERY BIG VOICE which is unfortunate in a library setting but she's working on it. trying very hard to learn how to tell a joke but just cannot get the hang of it. (Enthir has attempted to teach her some standard formulaic jokes but she laughs too hard to tell the punchline right.)

she also has an unrequited crush on Colette, who has no idea that's what's going on and is in fact convinced her life is being threatened every time Kharish looms awkwardly over her like HELLO MISTRESS MARENCE. AS I HAVE SOME UNOCCUPIED TIME I THOUGHT I WOULD COME TO HEAR YOUR LECTURE TODAY. I HAVE NO DOUBT IT WILL BE MOST ENLIGHTENING! and then stares at her from the back row of the classroom with a goofy smile and her chin in her hands.

her favorite color is blue :)

Kharish is not the archmage, which is probably best for all involved as she does not have the kind of interpersonal savvy required of a leadership/administrative position lol. Mirabelle survives (though never really fully recovers from the injuries sustained during questline events) and gets to be Archmage Ervine :')

Oblivion: Molly Cadoret (Breton)

Tamriel's least magical Breton. erstwhile barber hailing from Kvatch. having the worst time of her life. wears the Kvatch armor through everything and initially took it off the corpse of a cute lady guard who flirted with her sometimes... beat her first daedra to death with a rake in sheer panic and never really stopped the panicking part. because she's from Kvatch she never met the emperor and Baurus is the one given the imperial mandate to deliver the amulet and find the heir--he initially tries to sneak Martin out with the intent to send Blades reinforcements for the city, but Martin won't leave unless everyone in the chapel can and Molly in her (stolen? borrowed?) guard armor gets put on a small team of fighters sent into the gate to try to find how to close it. as the only survivor Baurus asks her to come with them so she can provide an account of what the interior of the gate looked like etc to the Blades. she does not understand how she keeps surviving the gates, surviving, surviving, surviving. Martin doesn't survive; why did she?

the door in Niben Bay is a gate, or close enough--she goes into it hoping, just a little bit, it might be the last one for her. and it is, but not for the reasons she expected. the first time she meets Sheogorath she offers to trim his beard for him in a panic (she's gotten very good at panicking by now). she doesn't pick up on the fact that she's being positioned as his successor until pretty late, at which point she has a lot of intense but mixed feelings. the passing of the torch, so to speak, leaves her with unprecedented control over her own mind at last, and being able to literally shut off the terror center of her brain means she sleeps all the way through the night for the first time since the destruction of Kvatch. she eventually loses herself to the mantle, but the tradeoff is she doesn't feel like a rabbit in a snare 24/7 anymore. it's... not the healthiest of recovery strategies (understatement of the era lol).

I named her after Molly Grue (my love...), and while she's a very different character I definitely was thinking a lot about the kinds of meta-narrative questions Molly Grue presents in the context of my Molly--specifically her choice to lose her own identity in mantling Sheogorath as a parallel to the Molly Grue/Maid Marian dichotomy + the desire to exchange the unfavorable reality for a beautiful dream (WHICH I am dutifully restraining myself from rambling about again as that's not really the question here).

Morrowind: Haldryn Elora (Dunmer)

trans lesbian. gap between her two front teeth. short twiggy lil thing with the wimpiest arms you ever saw. Haldryn (Hallie to her ma and her friends) was raised in Chorrol by an Argonian woman, Vakka-Ei (Sun-in-Her-Eyes), next door to an elderly gay Dunmer couple. her neighbors cheerfully answered whatever questions she has about Dunmer culture she had growing up--she loved stories about the Tribunal the most and considers herself fairly devout, though once she gets booted over to Vvardenfell she learns there's a lot more to... everything, and her attempts at home at acting out traditions and culture she didn't really know were (predictably) not quite the same. but it's a learning experience! and she is eager to learn! this is her big adventure!

she sees the golden ghost of Nerevar pretty regularly from a young age, though he doesn't say much and never introduces himself, so she refers to him as "the gold man." her ma assumes this is an Altmer imaginary friend, which she thinks is a little weird, but the whole thing seems harmless enough. he talks a little more as Hallie gets older, and she finds him standing silently over her shoulder many times throughout the events of the game. she grows to resent him--she gets the feeling sometimes, standing in front of the gods, that they don't really see her.

and, well, they don't.

the confrontation with Almalexia in particular absolutely shatters her. she primarily fights with a pair of bound daggers and doesn't summon them for the majority of this fight, desperately trying to say the right thing to fix it instead. she ends up summoning a pair of bound swords instead of daggers at exactly the wrong (or right?) moment.

she never sees Nerevar again after this. she wishes, very hard, she'd never seen him in the first place.

the only place I've really publicly shared art of them so far is on artfight (along with a bit more prose-y summaries) but I have,, a number of things in the art blog drafts waiting for the Right Time(TM). watch this space as they say!

[risebird3]

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[pkchopraco-blog]

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A comprehensive commercial and market due diligence service in India is required when there is a plan to take over another company. Commercial and market due diligence services typically deals with collecting and analyzing the comprehensive review of the company’s business plan in the context of projected market conditions and the industry/competition. Acquisitions have to be made judiciously and wisely At PK Chopra we give you a solution for all the challenges faced by you during acquisitions. A study has to be made about the technology, the buyers, potential customers and the emerging new geographic markets. A complete review of the company’s proposed expansion and business plan is made. It is then studied in context to the projected market conditions and the industry.

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[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Sudden Death (Hyams, 1995)

As a Die Hard clone, this probably invites comparisons to the other prominent Die Hard clone featuring a martial arts star, Under Siege. In at least one respect, it adheres much more closely to the OG than the other movie, and that's the characterization of the protagonist. Here, Jean-Claude Van Damme plays a fire marshal, someone who is not particularly skilled in violence. In the other movie, Steven Seagal plays a chef who's revealed to be a former Navy SEAL or something to that effect. Van Damme's character is by definition ordinary and someone having to figure out how to handle the situation on the fly, not unlike the everyman cop Bruce Willis played in the original Die Hard. Seagal's character is a specialist, someone who reveals over the course of the movie the particular skillset he has for handling such situations. Because Seagal as an actor refuses to be humbled or appear to struggle, the physical confrontations in that movie are won with ease, and most of the complications are strategic. Here, Van Damme, who is physically smaller than Seagal and doesn't tower over his co-stars, comes off as vulnerable, one who is genuinely challenged by the situation at hand. While I think Under Siege is the better movie, I found it a lot easier to root for Van Damme here.

This hits a lot of the classic Die Hard beats, sometimes a bit too closely. You get the attempts by the authorities to infiltrate the setting put to an explosive end, this time with cars rigged to explode and a guy on the roof with an RPG. You get a botched helicopter assault. You get the hero's family connection, represented here by his two kids attending the game. His daughter gets kidnapped by the terrorists, which is good for our sympathies, because his son is a little shit, mocking his job and spraying his daughter with a squirt gun and making her drop her soda. (Van Damme is shown to be divorced, but amusingly, the kids' stepdad seems to like him.) You do get a nice twist on the control room and handling of the authorities, but to reveal more would spoil the movie. The villains here are a group of disgruntled Secret Service agents going into business for themselves, and while the lead villain is characterized a bit too much like Hans Gruber, the fact that he's played by Powers Boothe should make it easier to overlook such similarities.

These Die Hard clones are easiest to distinguish by their settings, and this one places the Die Hard scenario in Pittsburgh Civic Arena during the Stanley Cup finals. Now, as a Canadian I should probably get a kick out of the novelty of a hockey-centric Die Hard clone, but brace yourself for a shocking reveal: I actually fucking hate hockey. Part of this is the fact that in Canada it's a phony patriotic signifier touted by the most obnoxious people here, the type who definitely failed their civics classes and latch on instead to this for their national identity. Part of this is because I live in Toronto, where we're represented by the absolute embarrassment of an organization that is the Toronto Maple Leafs, who manage to comically fuck things up year after year without their fanbase ever wavering in their dogma. Now, if you're a Leafs fan and you're gonna point out that their acquisition of Jagoff McGee or whoever is really gonna turn things around and the Leafs just need to sport harder than the other sports team and score more points so they can win at sports or what have you, I don't actually care. For the rest of you, keep this on the down low, I don't wanna get deported or anything.

Anyway, what I meant to say is that like other movies of the subgenre, it makes clever use of its setting, but a hockey arena is probably a less visually interesting setting than a ship or Alcatraz. You do get some complications thanks to the game taking place throughout the movie, and interestingly the hero goes for most of the movie without using a gun, but the best use of this setting comes early on, when our hero comically grapples with a bad guy dressed as a mascot in a kitchen, both characters grabbing any culinary utensil they can reach to bonk the other over the head. Normally the tighter framing and faster cutting would be a hindrance to my enjoyment of a fight scene, but I think it helps here in de-emphasizing Van Damme's physical prowess. His character isn't a martial artist, just a guy doing his job thrust into a situation he isn't prepared for.

[createbacklink]

What is the valuation of goodwill by Sapient Services?

Goodwill is an intangible asset that arises when a company is purchased for a price that is higher than the sum of its individual assets and liabilities. In other words, goodwill represents the value of the "good name" and reputation of a business, as well as any other intangible assets that are not reflected in the balance sheet. The valuation of goodwill in India is important for a number of reasons, including financial reporting, tax planning, and mergers and acquisitions.

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