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practical diplomacy

Practical Diplomacy

Today the class was back in the Danger Shop, but instead of a press conference, it was set up to look like an extremely stuffy reception. Waitstaff of various species wove through the crowd offering appetizers and drinks as people made smalltalk and tried to look and be as interesting as possible.

Anakin hated these events. "Right," he said to the class. "A huge part of your job as a diplomat will be making and maintaining contacts, and excruciatingly dull receptions is an excellent time to do so. Your job today is to find and remember three separate beings' names and what they do while holding a glass of something and eating a plate of appetizers. It's not nearly as easy as it sounds. You must also give them a false name and backstory. Silly accents are entirely optional."

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Ready to mingle!

Today it is! Holding a glass and a plate, try to figure out three names and job descriptions, either of fellow students or NPC computer-generated guests while not spitting food and/or drink on anyone.

He can absolutely be one of your three people.

Did this last night, actually. Diplomatting like a boss. A boss who doesn't get paid.

Norman Babcock

Norman, or, as he was going by for the sake of this class, Percival Prenderghast, was not what you'd call 'social' even when he was mingling with his actual peers. That said, he was trying. If he just pretended the guests at this thing were dead, it was a little bit easier.

It helped that this reception was so dull, a few of them might as well be zombies, anyway.

Uma, daughter of Ursula

Right, Anakin was adorable if he thought Uma was doing anything other than scarfing down all the canapes she could and harassing the waiters for more of the fizzy drink.

If fancy important people wanted to talk, they could come to her.

On the other hand, before the hour was over she would be able to give a full report of some of the shady shit this caterer was pulling back in the kitchen, backed by multiple sources. Uma had ~~been over~~worked in food service for most of her life. Getting to know the staff had been a breeze.

Yang Xiao Long

Prince Sidon

Please, Yang had been the hostess for any event at her home over the years, and more than a few at Signal. 'Perk' of being Tai's oldest daughter.

She knew exactly how to make polite noises and not actually listen to anything while enjoying her drink. Names were easy. Hunters had to be able to pick up stuff like that quickly. Bothering to pay attention to the boring details of some drone's office job? Who caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaares?

Sidon's accent was already pretty ridiculous, so that was likely to say the same no matter how hard he tried to do something different in the spirit of things, but he did have fun weaving together a new persona for himself. Of course, he'd named himself Vahn Ruto, the first name that popped into his head, and decided that he was from a place called Azorilandia, which had nothing to with water at all, to prove how creative he was being.

But he was exciting. Mingling and chatting and getting to know people was what he did best, even if there wasn't anything really small about his smalltalk when you got right down to it.

"Salutations, Nor--" Sidon had started, but he caught himself before he got too excited for the opportunity to hob-nob with his little sibling and he chuckled. "Good sir," he corrected himself. "How are you enjoying yourself amongst these fine festivities and guests?" Gesturing, of course, to the room as a whole with nary a splash of his glass or a tilt of his small plate of snacks.

Sidon was a fancy important person! He would happily come to Uma to talk, especially since he was having way too much fun with this whole thing.

"My goodness!" he remarked. "The food must be quite exquisite; they simply cannot seem to keep you away from it, my dear madame! Tell me, is there anything particularly scrumptious you might recommend?"

"What a simply marvelous event!" Sidon remarked, greeting Yang with his bright toothy smile and a general careful gesture of his hand holding his drink at the room as a whole. "Are you having a good time, my lady?"

"Oh, it is as one might expect," Norman said, putting on a kind of terrible fake British accent and putting his chin up into the air.

... Which mostly was just a side-effect of looking up at Sidon.

"These things are ever so refined, aren't they?"

He was rolling that 'r.' A lot. It was possible that he'd stolen this particular affectation from his old elementary school's drama teacher, Mrs. Hensher. She had been quite the personality.

Bobby Drake

Multitasking where one of the tasks included eating? Oh, Bobby- sorry, Drake Roberts- was all over this.

Pretending to pay attention, though... that part he was less good at. But he was gonna try.

Edited 2018-01-24 20:05 (UTC)

"Oh, most indubitably!" said Sidon, trying very very hard not to laugh at the airs Norman was putting on, which he though were being executed marvelously. "But wherever are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I am..." And here you could see the moment of concentration on Sidon's face as he clenched his fist which wanted to pump so badly into the air, but he held himself back and tried something different, instead sweeping out an arm as he bowed slightly. "Vahn Ruto, from the dry and arid desert land of Azorilandia, where it is not wet in the least!"

Why stop at just remembering three people? Sidon was going to try to get to know everyone! Outside of waterfall diving and spearing octoroks, this was truly his element.

"Why, salutations, my fine gentleman!" he said, intent on banishing the stuffiness of the reception with the sheer force of his good cheer. "What a splendid little soiree, I must say! Wouldn't you agree?"

"Ah, the desert," Norman said, giving an ever so knowing nod. "I've spent many a long year in the desert myself, what with owning multiple very lucrative sand mines."

... People paid money for sand, right?

"You wouldn't believe how well sand sells in the wintertime in those Northern states. And in the summer, for that matter. Sand is, after all, a year-round commodity."

Also, it got everywhere.

"My goodness," Sidon nearly bellowed when he made the rounds and came to Master Skywalker, barely containing his grin, "I am quite certain we have not been acquainted. I am," and here he gracefully bowed despite every fiber of his being wanting to pump his fist, "Vahn Ruto, of the dry desert land of Azorilandia! Who might you be?"

He thought he was being devishish by turning it around on the teacher and putting him in a situation to pretend as well.

"Yes, indeed!" Sidon agreed heartily. "I can only imagine! So coarse and rough! Although...I'm afraid I didn't catch your name, there. Considering it sounds as though you are quite a lucrative sand merchant and I from a world with nothing but sand, you and I may have many things to talk about!"

"I am Ben Kenobi," Anakin replied, "and the host of this event. If we aren't acquainted, how did you come to be on the guest list?"

"Ah, but where are-" more R-rolling, "my manners? I am the esteemed Percival Prenderghast, heir to the great Prenderghast legacy," and that last bit even had some shred of truth, "and, of course, the most successful sand merchant in all these U-niiiiighted States."

This was possibly the first performance of his life that Mrs. Hensher would have approved of. He was actually kind of enjoying himself, feeling at least a little secure in the knowledge that his partner wasn't going to make fun of him for it.

"It is a pleasure and an honor to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Ruto."

And now he was French. A very badly American British sort of French.

Edited 2018-01-24 21:08 (UTC)

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Practical Diplomacy

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Smalltalk like its your job!

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