Viryn stood studying the thing for a moment. A gigantic crate, made of pure durasteel and with a small locking mechanism on the front. He looked down at Sharron, who shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"The worst?" Viryn echoed, smirking. "Besides the constant possibility of Dxun Isstal leaping out of one of these things and showering me with bad puns and brain-dead, circus clown insults... well, actually, next to that, nothing really seems that bad."

The aging secretary offered Viryn a wry grin and nodded. "My thoughts exactly. Go on."

Viryn heeded her words. Sharron had actually been working with him for a little over three years, since quiet soon after he'd arrived on Coruscant. When he'd begun working at several local holopapers, she'd befriended him -- which was odd, given that she was at least sixty years older than Viryn. But she'd always been there for him, and followed him as he'd struck out on a career of his own -- even when he reminded her that he couldn't pay her much. And, though he'd never admit it, he'd done a little digging at the local archives and found out why.

Sharron had been a good friend of his mother, until she'd moved with Viryn and his father to Carida, where she was shot and killed. At first, Viryn had been infuriated, figuring that his father had put her in place to ensure that he'd be okay on Coruscant -- as it turned out, he hadn't. He didn't even know Sharron was still alive. That knowledge in hand, Viryn and Sharron had become inseperable -- something of a surrogate mother, thought the two gave the outward appearance of some sort of enmity.

So Viryn heeded her advice, tapping the "open" key on the door, and hearing the pressurized hiss as air began to fill the vaccuum inside the package. The door slid away, and within it, stood...

A woman.

Quite a beautiful woman, actually. Almost impossibly so; her features were perfectly symmetrical, her face chisled, as if from stone. Or durasteel. "A human replication droid," Viryn said, glancing back at Sharron. The old woman wasn't the least fazed; nothing ever rattled her.

"Yes, an HRD. Are you going to gawk all day?" Sharron replied, and Viryn nodded in reply.

He approached the thing, glancing to the wall of the storage crate. On it, was written one word and two numbers; MIETTE15. "Miette, eh? Better than Isstal..." He fumled around behind the mock-woman, until he located the flap. Pressing his finger into the button, the durasteel covering slid open, to reveal a switch.

"A person you can turn on with a switch," Viryn said, chuckling. "Sounds like a couple of politicians I know."

Sharron snorted. "Or one witty little pundit I know. Get on with it."

Viryn did as he was told, flicking the thing and stepping back. The droid's eyelids slid open, and Viryn raised an eyebrow. "Miette, I presume. They call me Viryn Quell."

"Not everyone does." Was Miette's first words as she blinked bright violet eyes, the pupils visably focusing before they slid over to zero in on Viryn. Then she smiled brightly, revealing a dimple just below her mouth, slightly off center in her cheek. "I think some people have quite a few choice names to call you."

Wrinkling her nose, Miette worked through several exaggerated facial expressions, as if she was a person working muscles that hadn't been used in awhile, before sighing. Rolling her eyes, she explained as she began working her way out of the straps that held her in place, chattering the entire time, her bright chipper voice filling the office. "I told them they didn't have to pack me up like some sort of lunch meat, but they kept going on about delivery regulations and la la la dee da, so I just gave up and said fine." Once her hands were free, she punctuated her talk with waves and twitters of fingers, ever movement very animated as she continued to smile the entire time. Even though she was a droid, she never once appeared to be faking her enjoyment of the moment, as Miette was indeed having a good time.

"And I really don't like being shut off, it's most annoying, like people poking you full of sleeping pills and making you take a nap." Miette pointed out, just for future reference as she stood up then bent back down and began working on the straps around her legs. Her movements revealed her hair, that had seemed red in the darkness of the crate, was in fact black to begin with but the upper layers was dyed a dark magenta. Cut short, it bounced and shone with health as she moved, Miette still chattering as she worked. "Archis never used to shut me off, but then I was supposed to monitor things so it wasn't a good idea to not leave me turned on." Hopping out of the crate, Miette stepped gracefully over the side then bounced on her heels triumphantly, her bare feet smacking on the floor as it became apparent she was on the short side, a few inches over five foot. "Tada!"

It was then Miette noticed Sharon and again her wide bright smiled jumped into place. "Hello, I don't know you. If I knew I was meeting strangers I would have dressed up." Miette pointed out her outfit, which consisted of a button up shirt, a man's from the cut and placement of the buttons themselves, that was tied in a knot just under her breasts. Midriff exposed, a pair of muchly battered low slung jeans clung to her hips with a piece of small chain used as a belt, with ragged rips along the legs revealing she wore fishnet tights, Miette was definitely dressed in a decidely grunge style. "Sorry about that..."

"Oh... boy..." Viryn put his hand over his eyes, massaging his forehead briefly. "Tell me I didn't do this... I've awoken a fucking durasteel comedy golem..."

Rubbing his eyes again, Viryn walked into the office to see Miette standing in front of the work area, smiling brightly. The Vermillion Equinox employees were transfixed on her -- either with expressions of incredulity, or, in the case of certain male employees, scarcely-concealed attraction. And there goes productivity...

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet Miette." Viryn said, quite somberly. "She'll be... ah... joining us. In a moment." Viryn, with a wide, false smile, put his arm around Miette and steered her into his office, shutting the door behind him. Thankfully, the room was soundproof.

"Miette," He began, shaking his head, "Maybe there's been some kind of screw-up, here. You see, some old man in the boondocks of Coruscant died and left me a secretarial droid -- not a cheerleader."

"Hey!" Frowning mightily, since Miette didn't believe in doing anything half way, she propped her hands on her hips and glared at Viryn. "I am NOT a cheerleader. I AM a secretarial droid with several protocal standards existing within my programing as well. I can speak and understand, since there is a big differance, over 100 languages. Oh, and read and write them as well. I know how to fly most frieghters and can, on my own, run even the newest mining equipment, since Archis didn't believe we should ever forget where we came from." Even though she seemed to be quite angry, Miette still couldn't quite overcome giving the impression that she was like a small kitten hissing at you.

"AND we did not live in the boondocks, thank you.... At least not since Archis and me stopped going on mining excursions... and that was a long time ago!" Miette huffed, still looking slightly peeved, before she did a complete turn around. A look of quiet desperation took over as she glanced around the office, knowing she could organize even this mess if given a chance. "Look, I AM a what they said but even you can see what I originally was made for. A human replica droid, you know, entertainment central and all that. Archis bought me about 80 years ago when he hit his first big strike and I lasted through 2 wives and 6 children. My programming was changed though when he got married so my functions are differant now.... And Archis kinda liked messing with the programs so he kept doing it until he said he couldn't think of anything else to do, but I could, so he let me do it... The problem is, none of Archis' kids will let themselves forget what I was and see what I am now..."

Sighing, she looked down at her little pink toes and continued, not liking this part. She'd help take care of these people as kids, watched them get big, have kids of their own and such. It wasn't nice to have them turn on you. "They only wanted me if they could have my memory wiped, my programming reinstalled and my outer person changed to something more to their liking and Archis said hell no. Me and him spent alot of time getting me this way, and neither of us liked the idea of just trashing it all cause I'm not kosher anymore.... Well, there was the one grandson but he only wanted to change my programming back to it's original thing, and Archis got mad and said I was much more than that if the pinheaded rat would just look past my @#%$ to notice it.... So, he was arguing with his kids one day about where I'd go once he was gone, and you popped onto the holonet. He said he might as well give me to someone like you who had a brain to think, instead of them who had their thumbs in their asses. They laughed at him and well... here I am."