Takes place after Riddled with Clues.
(Feel free to branch off and have other party conversations on new threads as you desire.)
In the end, the Collective vessel did not have the necessary party elements required to have an exciting time. While Solaan felt disappointed he could not jam down on the ship then and there, in the end he decided this delayed party was better. People would hopefully come to the event with good spirits rather than being bogged down with the mood of their last mission. And then this party could both be the grandiose event that everyone deserved, as well as larger; Solaan had darted through the Hub, inviting individuals at random, and had even slapped posters up at regular intervals with details about where the event was being held. The theme might be an after-mission party, but parties were best when they were brimming full of people.
Solaan had taken it upon himself to decorate one of the common areas of the Hub - and area which, strictly speaking, he did not have permission to decorate. But he had decorated it nonetheless, and it was admittedly impressive. Streamers and baubles and floating disco orbs and a host of random hovering decorative alien technologies swarmed the plaza; lights from twenty different sources blazed the room in rainbow glory; and several sets of speakers floating about the area in regular intervals blasted what might have been music, or what also might have been the screams of the innocent. It was hard to say; Solaan or his species apparently had a unique taste in music.
For the occasion, Solaan had dressed up in the proper get-up. He traded out his gallant adventurer’s costume for some neon party swag. And he was neon, every bit of clothing glowing uncomfortably brightly and clashing colors with every other bit of clothing. An unbuttoned laser lemon undershirt that shone with the power of a sun was layered beneath a lime green and turquoise sleeveless vest - a vest which, of course, had an extravagant collar. Solaan had acquired some elbow-length orange gloves and “matching” knee-length orange boots. His pink pants were skin tight, shaping his form in what he believed was a rather flattering way. On top of it all, he had bedecked himself in about twenty various necklaces and the coolest pair of red shades in the universe.
“WELCOME TO OUR GRANDIOSE AFTER-MISSION PARTY!” he exclaimed, fanning his arms open wide and spinning around in a circle. “MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME! DRINKS ARE HERE! THE DANCE FLOOR IS OVER THERE! AND THE MUSIC IS EVERYWHERE!”
