Thanks for Malavai Quinn. <3 <3 <3 This is a love thread, haters make your own lol.

[Jagaimee]

This idea made me laugh... We really do need to look into the help we get on Odesson sometime...

 

Wardrobe Malfuction

 

Quinn: AUGH!?

Theron: GAH!

Quinn: ...why am I wearing YOUR clothes!?

Theron: I had to go undercover as an Imperial for a mission or two. *glances in the mirror* ...brings back memories. Thankfully, I wear it rather well, if I do say so myself...and I do.

Quinn: WHY AM I WEARING YOUR CLOTHES!?

Theron: *evil grin* And here we see the baby Quinn-bird, repeating the only phrase it--ACK *runs to avoid a very angry Quinn*

[Jagaimee]

Chapter Two of the Quinn and Shan Detective Agency. Finally. o_e In which we discover Jagaimee's "writing badly on purpose" skills are deteriorating into just plain "writing badly." I...guess that's what happens when you go several days in between writing on this thing? XD

 

 

Chapter Two: Vette

 

After a lengthy argument about where to start, we finally landed on a lead. Actually we tripped over one by sheer luck. Quinn realized there were two unsavoury miscreants who would be just waiting for an opportunity to discredit him. One was a streetwise gangster with a penchant for lowbrow humor and the potential for jealousy. The other was Vette herself.

 

Other suspects popped out of the woodwork like stars circling someone’s head after they get whacked with a vase. Or a club. Or any other instrument of head-whacking. Darth Lunafox herself wasn’t out of the question. Darth Sarova, too – after all, as Quinn noted, she was Chief of Security. But that job would give her more alibis than a paranoid conspiracy theorist, probably without all the red string and photos taped to the wall. The Not-So-Grand Admiral was vaguely out of the question, because she was the one hiring us for the case, but she could be framing somebody else – and the picture was forgery. Point was, nobody was innocent.

 

After a lot of headaches, mostly coming from those vicious dust bunnies nomming our heads, Quinn decided we’d pay Vette and Pierce a visit. Pierce was the streetwise thug with the intelligence of one of those dust bunnies, and the charisma to match. But first up was Vette.

 

It was dark and drizzling when we set out. Fog stretched along the streets like a ghost looking for its sheet in the world’s biggest laundromat. I swear I heard an ooooooooo somewhere, too. Then I looked behind us and realized it was a whole team of special effects people with a fog machine and a bullhorn. That was nothing new in this part of town. We dodged a guy in the middle of a dance number with a lamppost, singing something about the rain.

 

This place was weird, like the loony bin…without the actual walls for the bin, which didn’t make it a bin so much as it made it a wide-open loony bonanza. You couldn’t throw a cat and not hit a loony.

 

Quinn asked me why I was muttering about loonies. I declined to answer.

 

Loony.

 

Vette lived in the dingy part of town, the one where all the street lights are blinking on and off like a flaky girlfriend’s loyalty, where all the cops eye you sideways and right-ways and upside down and forward-to-back-to-forward again. We found the address easy enough.

 

Okay, so Quinn actually found it and waited for me to stop hanging around on the street corner looking tough (as he called it). Quinn knocked on the door. And then yanked off his cap.

 

“What’d you do that for?” I asked. It was a perfectly good cap.

 

“I am not looking like an idiot in front of Vette. That’s a year’s worth of prank ammunition right there.”

 

“You’re a year’s worth of prank ammunition,” came a voice from inside the house. The door opened, and there stood a dame. A dame with skin the color of a starry evening, the deep ocean, or terminal frostbite. She wore a black dress that slinked around her like an oil spill…and not one of those large, awful, icky oil spills you always read about in the news, but a small and clean one that manages to be confined to one area and doesn’t involve a few million fish dying, because that doesn’t make for a very attractive dress even if only a few fish die. Animal rights groups would be all up in arms.

 

“Theron, what are you staring at?” Vette asked, hands on hips.

 

“Ignore him,” Quinn said. “He’s most likely doing that internal monologue thing again.”

 

“No, I…” I trailed off. Wouldn’t do any good to explain it to them.

 

“So why are you here? I’ve got a date to go to.”

 

Quinn flourished the letter, like a judge waving a piece of particularly juicy evidence around. Except that judges don’t generally wave evidence around because the court of law frowns on that sort of thing. In any case, Vette watched the letter-flourishing with a distinctly unimpressed look on her face, but I could tell the hammer of the judge was about to come down on the gavel, and the sentence was – justice!

 

“He’s doing it again, isn’t he?”

 

“Never mind him,” Quinn snapped. If looks could kill, Vette would be dead ten times over. Nine of those from that look, one from the aforementioned terminal frostbite. “Does this letter look familiar to you?”

 

“It might, if you’d stop waving it around enough for me to actually see what’s on it…”

 

Quinn handed the letter to her. She took it, delicately. Too delicately. Like it was a piranha that would bite her hand off and then keep munch-jumping its way up her arm. Which really made no sense when you think about it, because if a piranha bit someone’s hand off, they’d just fall to the ground, because there’s no way they could actually keep swallowing—

 

“Shan, focus.”

 

Like I said earlier, we did not get along well.

 

“Okay, yeah, this letter is familiar.” Vette handed it back to Quinn. “And I’ve always wanted to ask, do you always write to the lady Wrath like that? Because…” she snickered. “…that’s the funniest thing since ‘Admiral Malcontent.’”

 

I glanced at Quinn. “Admiral Mal—?”

 

“None of your business, Shan,” Quinn growled. “Vette, this letter was forged. It says I love your jokes. Obviously, I do not. Now, what I want to know is – did you write this defamatory statement?”

 

Vette blinked.

 

Aha! We’d caught her. The net of justice had been spread, and we’d caught her like a fish! She’d fallen right into that trap like it was a trapdoor and she faceplanted right into it. Several raindrops dripped off the roof and caught me right in the nose, ruining the moment of triumph with frantic sneezing and flailing. Shoot.

 

Then, abruptly, Vette started to laugh.

 

“Don’t act so—achoo!—innocent!” I growled. I wondered where my fedora had gone, and discovered it had been nommed right off my head by those dust bunnies. Sacrifices must be suffered in the line of duty.

 

“I can’t—I—haha!” Vette leaned against the doorway. Her eyes glinted with merry tears. Hmph. Femme fatale, thinking she could fool us like that. “Quinn…there is no way I could’ve written that letter.”

 

“Oh, really?” Quinn asked.

 

“That letter’s only sent if I’m dead.”

 

I blinked. I couldn’t tell if the blinking was from surprise or from more of the rain. But there was a flaw in her logic, a flaw that glared out at us like one of Quinn’s death glares, or the light reflecting blindingly off Grand Admiral Jagaimee’s glasses. “If you’re dead, how are you standing here talking to us?”

 

“Fanboy armor,” Vette answered breezily. “Same as Quinn. And you, most likely. I’m alive for some people. It just takes a while to come back from that weird limbo state. Oh, and one of the people I’m alive for is my husband, who’s taking me on the date, which you’ve made me late for...” She looked over at Quinn. “And given how my husband is a Sith Lord, I—wait, Quinn?”

 

I looked over. He wasn’t there.

 

“Where’d he go?” asked Vette.

 

I glanced around, and finally spotted Quinn’s Inverness cape billowing dramatically off in the distance as he stomped away. The special effects crew from before was following him and producing a personalized raincloud above his head. A few of them were playing

on violins.

 

“…so, we’re going to go ask Pierce about the letter now,” I managed to Vette.

 

“Good luck with that.”

 

“Yeah…uh, you too. I mean, good luck on your…lateness.”

 

Then a thought struck me with all the force of a fist in the face. As I staggered backwards, Vette closed her door and then brushed past me. “Sorry, my fist slipped,” she said, and then she slinked off into the night.

 

As I leaned against the doorway, holding my nose, I mulled over that thought. I wondered if the letter-writer really was Pierce…

 

…or was it someone else?

 

DRAMATIC THUNDERCLAP!

 

I promptly whacked my head on the nearby wall and glared at the half of the special effects crew who had come back from chasing after Quinn. They all blinked back at me like baby owls, and I swear I heard one of them chirp. Warn me next time, I tried to say, but it came out as “Ward be dext tibe” on account of my nose.

 

 

[grania]

*laughs* I love the mental image of Quinn stomping away in his flapping Sherlock Holmes Cape I'm just impressed he's still wearing it.

 

It occurs to me that the more they investigate, the more he's going to get badgered by people like Vette who wouldn't have known about the letter in the first place Purple Quinn can't win

[Sarova]

More costumes:

Who wore it better and I know I said I preferred manly but I could not resist

[grania]

More costumes:

Who wore it better and I know I said I preferred manly but I could not resist

 

It's like Theron was made for this, Theron is like Ken from the Toy Story movie, and Quinn just looks like he's dying inside

 

Theron is that you?

Edited September 22, 2017 by grania

[Sarova]

It's like Theron was made for this, Theron is like Ken from the Toy Story movie, and Quinn just looks like he's dying inside

Indeed! Well Valkorian does call him "the charming spy". I reckon Theron is used to flaunting it

[Lunafox]

This idea made me laugh... We really do need to look into the help we get on Odesson sometime...

 

Wardrobe Malfuction

 

That's beautiful It's like they woke up in the dark and went to the wrong closet He hee. Love it.

 

 

I thought Skavak would have made a much better LI for the Smuggler and Zenith should have been an option for the Consular. Pity the devs didn't think to add two choices of male LI companions like they did for the female ones.

 

You know, I always felt that way too. I think Skavak would have been brilliant for a dark side smuggler...or even a light one. I can imagine the bickering and teh H4te sex afterward. Glorious that. And it would've been fun to gank Corso's chain all the more, cause I'm evil like that.

Edited September 22, 2017 by Lunafox

[Lunafox]

Indeed! Well Valkorian does call him "the charming spy". I reckon Theron is used to flaunting it

 

I think he is too. And that video...

 

It's like Theron was made for this, Theron is like Ken from the Toy Story movie, and Quinn just looks like he's dying inside

 

Theron is that you?

 

...that is sooooo him. I can totally see it.

 

PS. Agent Barbie, is heartless lol.

[Lunafox]

Quinn: AUGH!?

Theron: GAH!

Quinn: ...why am I wearing YOUR clothes!?

Theron: I had to go undercover as an Imperial for a mission or two. *glances in the mirror* ...brings back memories. Thankfully, I wear it rather well, if I do say so myself...and I do.

Quinn: WHY AM I WEARING YOUR CLOTHES!?

Theron: *evil grin* And here we see the baby Quinn-bird, repeating the only phrase it--ACK *runs to avoid a very angry Quinn*

 

Oh Theron, t'is dangerous ground you tread upon...you are in great danger of getting brained with the most recent issue of Imperial Life Monthly (trust me, it would hurt). And Quinn, knowing Theron, as I do, he might wallpaper your office with centerfolds from Huttsler magazine, or worse, PlayHutt. Tread carefully gentlemen.

Edited September 22, 2017 by Lunafox

[Sarova]

Huttsler magazine, or worse, PlayHutt. Tread carefully gentlemen.

My brain has been poisoned by the images Tread carefully indeed...

[Lunafox]

My brain has been poisoned by the images Tread carefully indeed...

 

He hee. In my story, Spy V. Spy, there's a bit where Lana discovers that Theron gave Jonas lifetime subscriptions to those magazines for life day as a joke.

 

 

Chapter Two of the Quinn and Shan Detective Agency. Finally. o_e In which we discover Jagaimee's "writing badly on purpose" skills are deteriorating into just plain "writing badly." I...guess that's what happens when you go several days in between writing on this thing? XD

 

 

Chapter Two: Vette

 

After a lengthy argument about where to start, we finally landed on a lead. Actually we tripped over one by sheer luck. Quinn realized there were two unsavoury miscreants who would be just waiting for an opportunity to discredit him. One was a streetwise gangster with a penchant for lowbrow humor and the potential for jealousy. The other was Vette herself.

 

Other suspects popped out of the woodwork like stars circling someone’s head after they get whacked with a vase. Or a club. Or any other instrument of head-whacking. Darth Lunafox herself wasn’t out of the question. Darth Sarova, too – after all, as Quinn noted, she was Chief of Security. But that job would give her more alibis than a paranoid conspiracy theorist, probably without all the red string and photos taped to the wall. The Not-So-Grand Admiral was vaguely out of the question, because she was the one hiring us for the case, but she could be framing somebody else – and the picture was forgery. Point was, nobody was innocent.

 

After a lot of headaches, mostly coming from those vicious dust bunnies nomming our heads, Quinn decided we’d pay Vette and Pierce a visit. Pierce was the streetwise thug with the intelligence of one of those dust bunnies, and the charisma to match. But first up was Vette.

 

It was dark and drizzling when we set out. Fog stretched along the streets like a ghost looking for its sheet in the world’s biggest laundromat. I swear I heard an ooooooooo somewhere, too. Then I looked behind us and realized it was a whole team of special effects people with a fog machine and a bullhorn. That was nothing new in this part of town. We dodged a guy in the middle of a dance number with a lamppost, singing something about the rain.

 

This place was weird, like the loony bin…without the actual walls for the bin, which didn’t make it a bin so much as it made it a wide-open loony bonanza. You couldn’t throw a cat and not hit a loony.

 

Quinn asked me why I was muttering about loonies. I declined to answer.

 

Loony.

 

Vette lived in the dingy part of town, the one where all the street lights are blinking on and off like a flaky girlfriend’s loyalty, where all the cops eye you sideways and right-ways and upside down and forward-to-back-to-forward again. We found the address easy enough.

 

Okay, so Quinn actually found it and waited for me to stop hanging around on the street corner looking tough (as he called it). Quinn knocked on the door. And then yanked off his cap.

 

“What’d you do that for?” I asked. It was a perfectly good cap.

 

“I am not looking like an idiot in front of Vette. That’s a year’s worth of prank ammunition right there.”

 

“You’re a year’s worth of prank ammunition,” came a voice from inside the house. The door opened, and there stood a dame. A dame with skin the color of a starry evening, the deep ocean, or terminal frostbite. She wore a black dress that slinked around her like an oil spill…and not one of those large, awful, icky oil spills you always read about in the news, but a small and clean one that manages to be confined to one area and doesn’t involve a few million fish dying, because that doesn’t make for a very attractive dress even if only a few fish die. Animal rights groups would be all up in arms.

 

“Theron, what are you staring at?” Vette asked, hands on hips.

 

“Ignore him,” Quinn said. “He’s most likely doing that internal monologue thing again.”

 

“No, I…” I trailed off. Wouldn’t do any good to explain it to them.

 

“So why are you here? I’ve got a date to go to.”

 

Quinn flourished the letter, like a judge waving a piece of particularly juicy evidence around. Except that judges don’t generally wave evidence around because the court of law frowns on that sort of thing. In any case, Vette watched the letter-flourishing with a distinctly unimpressed look on her face, but I could tell the hammer of the judge was about to come down on the gavel, and the sentence was – justice!

 

“He’s doing it again, isn’t he?”

 

“Never mind him,” Quinn snapped. If looks could kill, Vette would be dead ten times over. Nine of those from that look, one from the aforementioned terminal frostbite. “Does this letter look familiar to you?”

 

“It might, if you’d stop waving it around enough for me to actually see what’s on it…”

 

Quinn handed the letter to her. She took it, delicately. Too delicately. Like it was a piranha that would bite her hand off and then keep munch-jumping its way up her arm. Which really made no sense when you think about it, because if a piranha bit someone’s hand off, they’d just fall to the ground, because there’s no way they could actually keep swallowing—

 

“Shan, focus.”

 

Like I said earlier, we did not get along well.

 

“Okay, yeah, this letter is familiar.” Vette handed it back to Quinn. “And I’ve always wanted to ask, do you always write to the lady Wrath like that? Because…” she snickered. “…that’s the funniest thing since ‘Admiral Malcontent.’”

 

I glanced at Quinn. “Admiral Mal—?”

 

“None of your business, Shan,” Quinn growled. “Vette, this letter was forged. It says I love your jokes. Obviously, I do not. Now, what I want to know is – did you write this defamatory statement?”

 

Vette blinked.

 

Aha! We’d caught her. The net of justice had been spread, and we’d caught her like a fish! She’d fallen right into that trap like it was a trapdoor and she faceplanted right into it. Several raindrops dripped off the roof and caught me right in the nose, ruining the moment of triumph with frantic sneezing and flailing. Shoot.

 

Then, abruptly, Vette started to laugh.

 

“Don’t act so—achoo!—innocent!” I growled. I wondered where my fedora had gone, and discovered it had been nommed right off my head by those dust bunnies. Sacrifices must be suffered in the line of duty.

 

“I can’t—I—haha!” Vette leaned against the doorway. Her eyes glinted with merry tears. Hmph. Femme fatale, thinking she could fool us like that. “Quinn…there is no way I could’ve written that letter.”

 

“Oh, really?” Quinn asked.

 

“That letter’s only sent if I’m dead.”

 

I blinked. I couldn’t tell if the blinking was from surprise or from more of the rain. But there was a flaw in her logic, a flaw that glared out at us like one of Quinn’s death glares, or the light reflecting blindingly off Grand Admiral Jagaimee’s glasses. “If you’re dead, how are you standing here talking to us?”

 

“Fanboy armor,” Vette answered breezily. “Same as Quinn. And you, most likely. I’m alive for some people. It just takes a while to come back from that weird limbo state. Oh, and one of the people I’m alive for is my husband, who’s taking me on the date, which you’ve made me late for...” She looked over at Quinn. “And given how my husband is a Sith Lord, I—wait, Quinn?”

 

I looked over. He wasn’t there.

 

“Where’d he go?” asked Vette.

 

I glanced around, and finally spotted Quinn’s Inverness cape billowing dramatically off in the distance as he stomped away. The special effects crew from before was following him and producing a personalized raincloud above his head. A few of them were playing

on violins.

 

“…so, we’re going to go ask Pierce about the letter now,” I managed to Vette.

 

“Good luck with that.”

 

“Yeah…uh, you too. I mean, good luck on your…lateness.”

 

Then a thought struck me with all the force of a fist in the face. As I staggered backwards, Vette closed her door and then brushed past me. “Sorry, my fist slipped,” she said, and then she slinked off into the night.

 

As I leaned against the doorway, holding my nose, I mulled over that thought. I wondered if the letter-writer really was Pierce…

 

…or was it someone else?

 

DRAMATIC THUNDERCLAP!

 

I promptly whacked my head on the nearby wall and glared at the half of the special effects crew who had come back from chasing after Quinn. They all blinked back at me like baby owls, and I swear I heard one of them chirp. Warn me next time, I tried to say, but it came out as “Ward be dext tibe” on account of my nose.

 

 

My gods, I almost missed this. Doh! Excellent, most excellent as usual, my dear Grand Admiral. Brilliant! *snuggles it up*

[Lunafox]

More costumes:

Who wore it better and I know I said I preferred manly but I could not resist

 

Nice I think Theron is rocking the white set....but the black set...that goes to our dear Quinn.

[Nightfrogger]

Here we go more pictures

 

So who rocked this look better?

Who wore it better? 2

[Sarova]

Here we go more pictures

 

So who rocked this look better?

Who wore it better? 2

I vote for Quinn in this one. What armour is that? I recognise the chest but can't place it.

[Lunafox]

Here we go more pictures

 

So who rocked this look better?

Who wore it better? 2

 

I'm going to go with Quinn on that one too! <3 Looks great. ^^

[grania]

I'm going to go with Quinn on that one too! <3 Looks great. ^^

 

Agreed, I never knew he looked so good in blue

 

Blah I wish I had a good entry. Putting Quinn in Xoxaan's or concealed bodysuit would constitute spousal abuse I reckon. And everyone already knows who would win clandestine officer.

 

Hm, I do have about 80 alliance crates to open today, is there a prize for who looks most preposterous?

[Sarova]

Hm, I do have about 80 alliance crates to open today, is there a prize for who looks most preposterous?

Well, we have been making them model "alternative" outfits (see the League of Man Slaves guest starring Scourge, courtesy of Damask_Rose) so yes!

[CaptainBlackjack]

Why Quinn he is so boring ?

[Lunafox]

Why Quinn he is so boring ?

 

Clearly he isn't 'boring' to many of us. For me, my reasoning is thus:

 

1) I think his pixels are attractive. Love at first sight right there.

 

2) His voice is amazing...his VA Richard Terverson sounds lovely and I've always enjoyed a sexxxy English accent.

 

3) His character is intelligent and highly skilled as an officer.

 

4) For all his confidence professionally, he's a bit adorkable when it comes to romance. Adorkable is the new sexxxy!

 

5) His story is really quite fascinating, he is neither utterly good/light or evil/dark, he runs in shades of gray...that give him nuance. He's quite complex for a character.

 

6) His personality pleases me and if you look closely, he does have a dry wit that appeals to me.

 

7) While many focus on his betrayal only--I consider one of the core beliefs of the Sith that he is a valuable mind to have around, and if you can turn him to your purpose, then why waste a resource? He's brilliant. It's not really a lot different than turning Jaesa dark. One of the things Baras teaches you at the academy is never waste a resource.

 

There are some reasons, why I enjoy him. Hope that gives you some insight.

[Jagaimee]

Why Quinn he is so boring ?

 

Hey, we just spent 577 pages explaining why we love him so much. Nah, I kid.

Long (long long long long long long loooooooooooooong) story short: tall and handsome with a British accent and a romance story that is equally adorable and mildly disturbing.

 

That, and we're crazy.

[grania]

Well, we have been making them model "alternative" outfits (see the League of Man Slaves guest starring Scourge, courtesy of Damask_Rose) so yes!

 

Ok well I sold all that crate stuff sorry! But I did finish my new set. And since we're not married yet I'm under no obligation NOT to humiliate Quinn.

 

So who did it better, Quinn, Vette, or me?

https://i.imgur.com/z3Phv9y.png

PS I win all contests. Though, Quinn does seem to be glowing with an unearthly light, so he gets points for that.

 

Also, I'm thinking this is going to be the new, required uniform for my Twi'lek warrior's ship. I think this is exactly what a twilek in charge would do.

 

Why Quinn he is so boring ?

 

Do me a favor - make a female warrior, play through the whole story, romance Quinn and come back here and tell me you still think he's boring.

[Lunafox]

Ok well I sold all that crate stuff sorry! But I did finish my new set. And since we're not married yet I'm under no obligation NOT to humiliate Quinn.

 

So who did it better, Quinn, Vette, or me?

https://i.imgur.com/z3Phv9y.png

PS I win all contests. Though, Quinn does seem to be glowing with an unearthly light, so he gets points for that.

 

Also, I'm thinking this is going to be the new, required uniform for my Twi'lek warrior's ship. I think this is exactly what a twilek in charge would do.

 

 

 

Do me a favor - make a female warrior, play through the whole story, romance Quinn and come back here and tell me you still think he's boring.

 

You're quite lovely...so is Vette...but as you say, Malavai shines! I award this round to our dear Quinn. <3 And gzz on getting rid of your crates. ^^

[grania]

You're quite lovely...so is Vette...but as you say, Malavai shines! I award this round to our dear Quinn. <3 And gzz on getting rid of your crates. ^^

 

My first alien warrior Well shucks, now I'm going to have a dig up a crown for Malavai <3 I'm sure he'll be thrilled~

[Lunafox]

My first alien warrior Well shucks, now I'm going to have a dig up a crown for Malavai <3 I'm sure he'll be thrilled~

 

He hee I can just imagine.

[Lunafox]

A'right you guys...here's my contribution to our 'Who Wore it Better' series...

 

Have at it.

 

https://i.imgur.com/EcymxNP.jpg