| MaryAnne_Carmichael | Date: Monday, 14 May 2012, 7:40 AM | Message # 1 |
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| "I am not quite sure what in the world you are referrin' to, Mr. Franklin. Mr. Carmichaels untimely and tragic death was a tragic accident. Of course, letting a half blind Bothan behind the wheel of a tractor was his first mistake." The dark haired debutante stated before she took a moment to dab at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. "My poor, sweet Winston. I have absolutely no idea how I am ever going to run this plantation without him, and here you are accusin' me of who knows what. That is what you are doing, isn't it?" She asked, doe-eyed and innocent.
Mr. Franklin cleared his throat and then checked the chrono that was tucked into the front pocket of his twill vest. "No, Ma'am. Coroners report said it was an accident, so I reckon it was one." He said as he slipped the watch back out of sight. "I can't imagine a lady like you could do anything so crass, don't know why they sent me out here in the first place. Harrassin' a poor widow like this." The woman offered him a smile and folded her hands neatly in her lap against the black silk of her obligatory mourning gown.
"I'll send out a man who deals in droids, Ma'am. Maybe you can find some suitable for the plantation work. Maybe he can help ya find someone to run the place so you won't have to worry yourself about it. You been through so much already." Mr. Franklin continued. The young woman's story certainly did check out, and she didn't look like she would be able to hurt so much as a fly.
"I appreciate it, Mr. Franklin, but I am not sure that droids will be able to do the job sufficiently. My darling Winston had a great many 'employees' of the ah...sentient....variety that worked for him." MaryAnne paused again and sniffled slightly before choking back a sob. "They just all went a runnin' when they saw his body parts strewn out every which way. I can't for the life of me understand why!" She exclaimed dramatically.
He listened understandingly, and shook his head. "I will send that man out tomorrow, Mrs. Carmichael. I'm afraid I just cain't help with the 'sentient workers' you are wantin' for here." He stood, as did she, and he tipped his hat to her. "I can show myself out. Good Day, Ma'am." He said politely before he excused himself from the parlor. When MaryAnne finally heard the front door of her home shut, she let her posture relax (despite the stiff corset beneath) and she slumped back against the chair she had been perched in.
"Soliel!" She hollered, calling for one of the maids. When the girl appeared, she curtsied, as was customary.
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"I'm thinkin' I'd like a meeting with one of those Hutt fellas. Surely that Hutt named Jamie, I think, will be able to get what I want, don't you think?" She smirked and snapped her fan open, batting it idly in front of her.
Message edited by MaryAnne_Carmichael - Monday, 14 May 2012, 8:15 AM |
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