Testing Boundaries
Jasmine watched while Isaac left and then locked the door behind him before heading for the balcony. She slid the door open, stepping out behind Ares, closing the door halfway behind her. She moved to stand a meter away from him, leaning her back against the railing and taking a deep breath. "Sorry for just dropping him in your lap."
He spun his lighter between his fingers with his free hand, pulling his cigarette from his mouth and blowing out wisps of smoke. "Part of me thinks you like bringing a second to our little 'meetings.'" His tone didn't betray anything, leaving her guessing at what he might be feeling behind the stoic facade.
She snorted, moving a little closer to him. Reaching out over the balcony, she wrapped her fingers around the cigarette in his hand, her lip twitching with a half smile as he tensed. He didn't stop her, though, so she lifted the cigarette from his hand before leaning back against the railing again. She looked at it for a second before taking a drag, the thick, almost acrid smoke filling her lungs, coating her tongue and throat. She grimaced, holding it back out to him. It tasted disgusting, but still, it said something for him let her have it, which was what she was really looking for. The symbolism.
He grunted, as if knowing her reaction without ever having to turn away his distant gaze from the horizon, and took it back. "Not what you expected?"
"Didn't know what to expect," she said, blowing the smoke back out and trying not to cough. "I use to smoke, when I was a teenager, but whatever the hell that is, it's definitely not the same plant." She took in a few breaths of fresh air, turning her attention back to his comment about their meetings. "To be fair, I didn't expect company the first time we met. I didn't know he was there. I might've even been avoiding him a little bit, which probably should've been enough to make me suspect he'd follow me."
Ares exhaled slowly, his gaze shifting as he seemed to watch the tendrils of smoke drift. "You two done dancing around each other? It was getting pretty disgusting watching you two act like an asari romance vid." He turned his head enough for her to see him smirk. "I was thinking I might have to excuse myself." He shrugged, jacket making a soft, rustling sound. "Or I could've just emptied my gizzard all over the table instead. Anything to get you two to stop ogling each other with 'wistful gazes' or some such shit."
She rolled her eyes, refusing to believe either she or Thane were ever so obvious. "We were not ogling each other with 'wistful gazes' or any other shit." She snorted when he gave her an unconvinced grunt. "But … yeah, we're together, if that's what you're asking. Besides, couldn't be any worse than the way Ray just looked at you." She hesitated, dreading the answer to her next question as she turned a little more towards him. "You gonna fuck my boss?"
"Depends." He flicked his lighter open and closed. "Is he a human who knows how not to mix business and pleasure?"
She groaned, letting her head loll back to look up at the pseudo-night sky. "Don't fuck my boss," she said, letting a little bit of a whine enter her voice. Turning her head to watch him from her peripherals, she added, "But to answer your question, I don't know him that well. I've only really known him for a couple of weeks. He took me on when I was still locked up, and as his first act, told me to take a month long vacation. So, he seems alright so far."
"That's right. Humans have this weird thing about keeping your sex lives private as if no one else in the galaxy likes to fuck." He stood up straighter and took a drag as she barked a laugh, pausing before blowing it out. "I take it you and your drell—whatever his name is—spent that time together. But him not being around makes me think there's more to you wanting me to keep my mouth shut about him with your boss."
"Trust me, I have no qualms fucking, talking about fucking, or listening to others talk about fucking. It's just … he's my boss." Shrugging, she turned to rest her forearms on the railing, letting her gaze roam over the bright lights of Silversun Strip. "We're still feeling each other out, still learning to trust one another. I took a risk bringing you in on this, if you two fuck, or get too personal otherwise, and it doesn't work out, I don't want that shit coming back to bite me in the ass." She waved a hand at nothing in particular. "I mean, you're both grown men, you're going to do what you're going to do, but I just hope you realize it might be my ass on the line. And honestly, I don't know either of you enough to vouch to one for the other how wise it'd be to put yourselves in such a vulnerable position."
She sucked in a deep breath. "As for Tannor—and please, I doubt Ares is your name, either—yeah, we spent my vacation time together. He's not around because he's not on the Citadel. We both have jobs and lives separate of each other, we're not going to be able to both be in the same place all the time. But no, I don't want to talk to Ray about him, because I don't know how he'd react." She waved her hand for his cigarette again, the lingering taste on her tongue growing on her a little. "It's one thing to admit to knowing a guy who might be able to shed some light on the Blackwatch case—which is pretty much all I told him, other than you'd be armed, a smartass, and a flirt—but it's something else entirely to admit to being romantically involved and invested in a freelancer."
"You're right," he said, handing her the cigarette, but nothing more.
She took a short puff from the black cigarette, his willingness to share with her helped to put her at ease. Blowing the smoke out slow, she looked at him, giving him her best cocky grin. "Usually am."
"I didn't say about what. Could be everything else you say is just—what's the saying—you blowing smoke out your ass." He took the cigarette back and finished it off before stamping it onto the railing and flicking the butt off over the edge.
"You didn't say what about because you know I'm right about it all." She hummed, her smile fading as she switched mental gears. "So, you know, even with us working together on this thing, I still need you to tell me what to expect from someone in Blackwatch. I have a feeling you're intimately familiar with the division."
He pulled out the scuffed box of cigarettes and took another one out, putting it between his mouth plates and holding it there as he spoke. "I am. And there's plenty you need to know. Maybe even your handler, too, depending on how involved he'll be." He lit the cigarette, flinching as always, even though he kept the flame turned down low.
"Thought so." She nodded more to herself than to him. "We'll go over it tomorrow. It's been a long day, I doubt I'd retain much right now." She let out a heavy sigh. "He's been making me get up at stupid o'clock in the morning for training. I think we're supposed to go over to the Armax Arena in the morning, you should come with us. It's kind of fun. He wants me to get used to more close combat situations against groups and less surprise kills on individuals."
"Alliance doesn't make that mandatory?" He looked to her before taking a drag.
She shrugged. "It wasn't a part of my training past basic. My last handler took on my training personally … basically just so he could get in my pants, I'm pretty sure. He focused me on other things. Stealth kills, crowd manipulation, infiltration …." She cocked her head to the side, gaze unfocusing as she thought back to her time spent with Leon. "Turns out, there's a lot he didn't do by Alliance standards," she said at last, her tone bitter.
"Good thing he's dead." He paused to take a puff and blew it out slow. "He wouldn't have served long as such a shit instructor in the Hierarchy."
"Yeah …." She rolled her head along her neck a little, loosening muscles already starting to tighten as the low simmer of anger she still carried towards Leon ramped up a little. "Don't get me wrong, I don't think his instruction was especially flawed. I'm not the best at what I do, but I do well enough, and there are certain tasks at which I excel."
"No one is 'the best', just better." He hummed, seemingly in thought, and then went quiet long enough to take a long drag from his cigarette. "Which leads me to a question. Why did you contact me?"
She turned her head to look at him fully. "Leon discouraged having contacts outside of the Alliance. It obviously didn't stop me from making a few friends in the business, but … Ray wants me to have my own, something separate from the Alliance." She narrowed her eyes a little, pursing her lips as she mulled it over. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why. Anytime I tell him something Leon did differently, he just says, 'I'm not Leon.' Which is cool, I guess. Not being Leon certainly wins him points." Shrugging, she pushed the thoughts of Leon away. "Anyway, this job came up, and he said he didn't have much on Blackwatch. I figure he's testing me, but I lucked out." She turned her attention back out at the Strip. "It made me think of you."
"And if you were wrong in thinking I had anything to do with Blackwatch?" His voice remained level, save for a hint of challenge.
She met his gaze again and gave him a playful grin. "I thought we already established my tendency to be right?"
"Didn't answer my question," he said, his voice flat, not giving her any hint to his line of thinking, which admittedly made her uneasy.
"I didn't make any promises to him." Keeping her voice level as she spoke, she shrugged. "If you didn't have a tie to Blackwatch, you'd still have more information on turians in general than either of us have. If you didn't want to tell us anything, or hell, if it offended you instead …" She tilted her head to the side and sucked her teeth. "... then I'd figure out a way to try to smooth things over with you and still do my job."
He grunted and flicked the mostly spent cigarette over the railing, making her cringe for the people down below, before turning back to her apartment. "Order me something to drink from whatever service you use. You're buying. Your choice to get some of your own."
She laughed, the gruff demand for a drink moving things back into familiar territory, and followed him back inside. "Sure, why not. Who needs sleep, right? I'm still young enough to get away with it."
"Humans and your need to sleep like the dead for nearly a quarter of the day," he said over his shoulder, not really looking at her as he took a heavy seat on the couch.
She rolled her eyes. "Turians and your need to criticize other species for not being finely-tuned, well-oiled machines." She walked past him to her laptop, logging back in and placed an order with the front desk's shopping service, ordering him what looked like the best dextro alcohol they advertised—a whiskey—and herself some spiced rum.
"I wasn't speaking for my species, just myself." He shrugged when she turned her attention back to him and leaned back in the couch, his size more apparent as he tried to get comfortable on the cushions.
No, you're just making snarky comments about my entire species.
She snorted, pulling her boots off as she propped her ass against a stool. Tossing them toward her bedroom door, she crossed the floor to sit sideways on the far end of the couch, tucking her legs up beneath her. "You're hardly the first turian I've met. Hell, you're not even the first turian I've discussed my panties with." She grinned, all teeth, hoping to get him to relax a little.
He snorted and scratched his mandible under his hood. "I'd be shocked if I was."
"Wait," she said, arching an eyebrow, "shocked if you were the first I've met, or the first I've talked about my panties with?"
Ares shrugged, his smirk obvious from beneath his hood.
She sucked on her teeth—well, she did want him to relax. "Hmmm. From anyone else, I'd say you think I'm a slut."
"And you know I'm not anyone else," he agreed with a slight nod. "Tell me, did you tell your C-Sec turian about your panties?" He flicked his mandible in an almost coy smirk, goading her.
Jasmine laughed, letting her head loll back a little before looking at him again. "Nah, I just made him use his height advantage, superior eyesight, and nifty visor to help me track Ray in the crowd." She waved her hand dismissively. "We didn't really say a whole lot to each other."
"And you didn't even repay him for his service." He made an audible tsk and gave her an exaggerated head shake. "I'm sure he wouldn't have given you a hard time if you told him the color, too."
Snorting, she shook her head, wondering what exactly made him think the cop gave her a hard time at all. "'Thanks, Officer Vakarian. By the way, I'm totally wearing black, lace panties. Just thought you should know.'" Her eyebrows twitched when Ares stilled, and she tilted her head to the side. "You know him?"
"I might know the Vakarian name," he said, tone low and the response vague enough to make her have to fight the urge to dig deeper.
"Hmmm. Well, I hope it doesn't mean you're going to kill off Garrus Vakarian. I kinda liked him, it would suck." She shifted on the couch, draping an arm over the back and dropping one of her feet back to the floor. "But seriously, you know not all turians are interested in humans anymore than all humans are interested in turians. Which is a shame, they really don't know what they're missing."
"I know perfectly about the insanity that is not being interested in my species. Really, it's your people's lost." He rumbled and smirked. "Every human I've met hasn't had any complaints."
She laughed, a teasing smile lingering on her lips. "Maybe they're just too intimidated by your looming, broody presence to complain." She waved a hand at his form as she spoke. "The hood doesn't help with making you look approachable …" She hesitated, her voice becoming more somber, softer. "... and it really doesn't cover the scars too well, either, if that's what you're after."
The atmosphere shifted, and she knew she'd hit a sore spot. She expected as much, though. She hoped he'd get she only meant it wasn't really necessary for him to wear, not around her, at least. She wanted to build more trust between the two of them, but it was a little hard to do when she couldn't see half the expressions he made. He stared at her, face cast in shadows, and yet his gaze felt cold. His mandibles didn't shift beneath the hood, nothing to tell her what he might be thinking. She held his gaze, unflinching, letting her statement linger until the door buzzer filled the room. Unfolding herself from the couch, she went to the door.
Ares watched Ramona's back as she went to the door, seething and holding back from clenching his fists. And he agreed to help the woman? He'd put trust in her since the beginning by not covering his real face in artificial plates, and she threw it back in his face. As far as he knew, it was he who went out of his way to show he wasn't just out to stab her in the back in person, that he wanted them to be on equal ground, and she still held everything close to her chest.
She even let another assassin follow her to Chora's in the beginning. One she obviously had a closer association with than most in their line of work. The next time, she brought her own damn handler, outnumbering Ares once more. Not much of the two situations spoke of trust on her part. He was starting to question offering information—and possible aid on the actual job—for nothing but his travel expenses paid.
The door opened to an asari attendant holding a tray laden with two large, unopened bottles of liquor. He easily recognized the light bronze of a turian whiskey and figured the other bottle contained some sort of levo alcohol that he wasn't familiar with. Whiskey wasn't really his first choice, but it had to do.
Not too many 'reputable' businesses carried the heavy shit he preferred.
"I have a delivery for Ms. Ramona Salazar?" The asari smiled and dipped her chin towards the elegant, silver tray in her hands. "One levo rum and one dextro whiskey? We've provided a set of tumblers, too."
"Thanks." Ramona nodded curtly and took the bottles, tucking one under her arm to grab the tumblers between her too-many-fingers. "Put it on my bill. And go ahead and add a tip for yourself, too."
The attendant grinned, seemingly beaming in joy, and Ares wondered just how much of it was genuine gratitude or a mask to convince Ramona that her 'generosity' wasn't expected from the beginning. Leave it to a place that most likely already had the Alliance paying out the ass to expect reward for doing their damn jobs. "Thank you, ma'am! You have a nice evening!" She scurried away as Ramona closed the door and headed back over with the alcohol in hand.
Sitting the tumblers and bottles of alcohol on the table, Ramona glanced at him before going to the kitchen. He heard her rummaging around in the freezer, and a moment later she returned with a bowl of ice. Reclaiming her seat, she broke the seal on the bottle of levo rum, twisting off the cap and tossing it on the table before filling her glass with ice.
Pouring the dark liquid over the ice, she sighed. "That sounded a lot shittier than I meant it." She put the cap back on the bottle and sat back, pulling her legs up onto the couch and bending her knees up so they hid half of her body. Wrapping an arm around her legs, she rested her glass on her knee, watching him. "Sorry, do whatever makes you comfortable."
Not one to believe that the first thing out of someone's mouth wasn't what they initially intended to say, Ares growled and jerked his mandibles angrily against his chin. "If I wanted to be 'approachable', I wouldn't walk around without artificial plates to conceal these." He waved towards his face and flexed the unscarred half of his mouth in disgust, growing more irritated by her flippant insult by the second. To attempt to tamp down on his fury, he lifted the bottle in his hand to his mouth and popped off the top with his teeth, spitting it out in the general direction of Ramona's table without breaking eye contact. "You think I don't know it doesn't do shit to cover them? Or that I'm just stupid enough to fool myself into thinking that?" He scowled at her and pulled back his hood to show her the rest of his hideously scarred face. "I walk around like this as a fucking show of trust in you, you inconsiderate child."
All expression had vanished from Ramona's face early on in his rage-fueled tirade. She sat deathly still save for a slow, steady and intentional rise and fall of her chest as she breathed and the very slight tick of her jaw as their gazes stayed locked. Even his bared face did not phase the predator in her that sat coiled and ready to pounce. For once since knowing her, he saw just what the Alliance saw in her to lay their trust in her abilities as an assassin.
Still, he couldn't be convinced the woman sitting before him had it in her to be ready to get out of the shadow of her superiors, to come out as an assassin able to make a name for herself as one of the best. She had much to learn, starting with how to mask her insensitivities or it'd get her killed one day. As of then, she still didn't bring on that itch of caution he'd feel in dangerous situations.
When she spoke, the words came slow and void of any emotion. She no longer addressed him as a friend, but as nothing more than a contact at best, and adversary at worst. All obviously weighed on the direction of the conversation as she said, "It wasn't my intent to offend you, I apologise, as it is clear that was the case. Have a good night, Ares. If you're still interested, I'll contact you tomorrow with the details of when and where we can meet to further discuss the job."
Ares narrowed his eyes at the obvious dismissal and set the bottle down on the table with more force than necessary. Jerking his hood back over his head, he turned and headed for the door. The best he could offer the woman was to leave, and he'd still give her what she wanted to know out of principal and a desire to see Blackwatch take a hit—even if not by his own hand—but he'd be sure to lose her contact information after the job he promised was done.
He needed to find himself an outlet before he figured his revenge on Blachwatch wasn't worth dealing with Ramona. He needed to get into a fight, beat the shit out of someone, or find someone to fuck until they passed out and couldn't walk tomorrow.
Jasmine sucked in a slow, deep breath as the door closed behind him. Muscles tight, refusing to relax, she growled her frustration, but it didn't make her feel any better. Tipping her head back, she downed the rest of her glass of rum, slamming the cup down on the table before picking up the bottle and draining another couple of glasses worth. She sat there for a minute, elbows braced on her knees as she replayed the conversation in her head. She almost wanted to feel bad for offending him, but he turned complete jackass so fast … fuck him. Better she see what kind of person he really was sooner than later.
Hell, she should've decked him. Might've broken her hand on his thick skull, but damn it would've felt good. Who the hell did he think he was, calling her an inconsiderate child? Trust? He wanted to talk about trust? She reached out to him, introduced him to her handler—the one person around with authority over her ass and the power to send her straight back to jail if he felt the inclination—talked to him about her personal relationships, and brought him to the very place she sleeps at night …. How the hell did he expect her to know he'd normally wear fake plates, he never told her that shit.
Whatever. I need to get the fuck out of here.
Alcohol burning in the pit of her stomach, sending blood rushing through her, she pushed herself up from the couch and went to her room. Digging in her closet, she pulled out her tennis shoes and hoodie, sliding them both on and rolling her eyes at herself over the irony as she tugged the hood up over her face. "Fuck him."
Checking her pistol, she holstered it at her back and then made sure her knives were secure, too. She wished Thane was around, maybe convincing him to spar would help her blow off steam … or other things. She sighed, heading for the door and making her way out of the apartment. She stopped in the hall, glancing down toward the elevator, and after finding no sign of the asshole turian, she glanced down at Isaac's locked door.
She left Tiberius Towers and hopped in a taxi, wanting as far away from the glare of Silversun Strip as she could get. The flashy lights and even flashier people made her skin crawl. It didn't matter how far away from the streets of Santa Fe she got, no matter how hard she tried to clean herself up, she remained nothing more than a street rat scurrying for the shadows and clutching her weapons closer at the first sign of shit going south. And just like that, the old, familiar itch inside her veins crept up on her. The voice in the back of her head telling her only one thing would ever make it stop. Fuck that voice, too.
And yet, she found herself walking the catwalks outside of the warehouse where she killed Ryan Archer. The memory of the crates of red sand stacked up against the walls, all along the warehouse floor dug at her mind. She stopped, leaning over the railing and watched the empty warehouse, sucking shallow breaths in through her nose.
"Get back here, you little shit!"
Jasmine's head swiveled toward the sudden intrusion of sound, instantly spotting a kid she recognized right away as Mouse, hightailing it out of a nearby shop, heading straight for the ducts. Behind him, two men, easily five times the kid's size, gave chase. Adrenaline dumped into her system, giving her the high she'd been craving and fighting, and without a second thought, she grabbed the railing, lowering herself over the edge before dropping down the rest of the way.
As soon as her feet hit the ground, she ran, headed straight for the intercept. One of the men—who up close, looked easily more like six times Mouse's size and for some reason reminded her of Leon, only pissing her off more—pulled a pistol, starting to raise it toward Mouse. Before he took aim, she reached him, ramming her foot into his kneecap with a satisfying crunch. The man yelled, his leg buckling, dropping his center of gravity, and she jabbed her elbow into his spine, just between his shoulder blades, sending him sprawling.
Kicking his pistol, it spun out across the Lower Wards, well beyond his reach. She spared half a heartbeat to glance in Mouse's direction, but he was gone from sight. Good. Turning, she barely had time to jerk her head back, avoiding a fist to her face as the second assailant closed in on her. Hopping back a step, she fell into a defensive stance, eyeing the man. He took another swing at her, and she ducked under his arm, continuing the movement to step behind him. Slamming her elbow against his lower back, hitting his kidney, she left him momentarily paralyzed as he gasped for breath. Taking advantage of the situation, she didn't stop, planting the sole of her foot into the back of his knee and pushed, forcing the joint to give. He stumbled forward and down, and she struck out at the base of his skull, the knuckle of her middle and index finger digging into the suboccipital man fell face first, probably breaking his nose on impact.
The first man started to scramble back to his feet, only to yell out in agony as his broken knee refused to hold his weight. Still, it didn't stop him from floundering toward his gun. "Fucking cunt."
Rage flared up inside of Jasmine, and she closed the distance between them, kicking him as hard as she could in his ribs. Fuck her training, and fuck him. Lips pulled back in a snarl, she swung again, aiming for his face when he rolled to his side, clutching at his ribs, gasping for breath. He managed to get out of the way of her foot flying at his face, but it only added fuel to her fire, and a second later she was on him, one fist pounding into him after the other, a vicious growl tearing through her throat.
"Jasmine!" The sheer panic in Mouse's voice ripped her away from her bloodrage, and her head snapped up, zeroing in on the threat.
Three more men ran towards her, and the other man she left sprawled out on the floor started to rouse. She pushed herself to her feet, sparing one last glance down at the bloody pulp of the Leon-esque man's face, some of her fury fading as she assessed the situation. They'd be on her in seconds, she didn't have time to run, and one of them already pulled a gun.
"Shit," she growled again, her hand moving to activate her tactical cloak. And here she thought she was just going to get away with kicking the shit out of a couple of asshats. But no, more idiots just had to show up, and someone would most certainly end up dead.
As the last man moved past the alley cutting in between the store and the warehouse, a shadow moved behind him, materializing into a recognizable shape a moment later. Before she fully registered the latest edition to her fuck-this-night party, Ares slit the man's throat. She didn't take the time to process her feelings on the matter, instead, she moved, drawing her pistol and changing her position as quickly as she could before the buffoon gaping at the spot she disappeared from decided to pull the trigger anyway.
The man made it to his feet, blood pouring out of his nose—what the hell, she'd call him Red—only to be met with the butt of her pistol slamming into his temple, dropping him once more. Her cloak gave out just as Ares kicked another guy in the family jewels, rounding behind him as he doubled over in agony. Grabbing the back of the man's neck, Ares pulled him up, hands wrapping around his skull before breaking his neck. Jasmine aimed her pistol at the man stuck, gawking in horror, his gaze flicking back and forth between the overgrown, turian death machine and the psycho-chick who could disappear. Her jaw twitched when his gaze met hers, the reality of his situation solidifying in his eyes, and she pulled the trigger. It was probably nicer than whatever Ares planned.
She lowered her weapon, staring at Ares, the gurgling gasps of the man who very much reminded her of Leon after the word 'cunt' left his mouth, the only sound breaking the silence. Ares kept his gaze on her as he wiped the blade of his knife off on his pants before tucking it away under his sleeve.
Jasmine pursed her lips just a little at the sign of his peaceful intentions towards her, holstering her pistol once more. Still, without turning away from the turian, she called out, "Mouse?"
A moment later, the duct a few meters away slid open, and the boy dropped down to the ground, his gaze on Ares—who apparently decided it was the perfect time for a smoke break—as he edged his way closer to her. When he got within her reach, he tore his gaze away from Ares and looked up at Jasmine, slightly shaken but otherwise as calm as ever despite the blood and gore surrounding them.
Reaching out, she ran her hand over the boy's head, despite knowing he hated it, just because she needed to reassure herself he hadn't been hurt. "Call C-Sec. Tell them there's dead bodies, but still a couple alive who need help. And … you didn't—"
"I didn't see anything, yeah, yeah. I know how this works." He frowned at her, smoothing his hair back down, but a moment later, his gaze softened. "Thanks, Jasmine."
She smirked. "Yeah, anytime, kid." Glancing up, she saw Ares already retreating from the bloody crime scene. Pulling Mouse in against her side, she squeezed his shoulder. "I have to go."
"Yeah, later." He lifted a hand, giving her a half-assed wave.
Turning, she started off at a jog, closing some of the distance between herself and the turian before slowing to a brisk walk. Last thing she wanted was for him to decide to face the sound of her rapid approach with a weapon out. He slowed down a little as she caught up, moving up to walk at his side. She glanced at her bloodstained hands instead of him, flexing her fingers, checking to see if anything seemed broken. They definitely hurt, and they were already swelling, but they didn't feel broken. The the knuckles of her middle and ring finger on her right hand were scraped, and she saw a laceration on the index finger of her left hand, but she knew most of the blood belonged to the man she'd beaten.
Still, there'd be traces of her DNA on the guy. Nothing she could do about it, though. They were too exposed, and there were too many bodies for her to try to dispose of before someone called C-Sec. The longer she stuck around, the more at risk of being caught and identified she'd be. Plus, two of the guys were still alive, and once the last man fell, they were no threat to her, nothing for her to justify killing the men.
Damn it, what am I going to tell Isaac?
She glanced up at Ares, still annoyed with him but willing to try to smooth things over if he was. "Thanks, and fuck you."
He hummed, letting the sound continue as he said, "Fuck you, too. And don't mention it."
She smirked, walking beside him in silence for a moment. "Sorry, about earlier."
Ares took a drag before shrugging and releasing his breath. "Same goes for myself. So we're even."
Glancing up at him again, she tried to catch his eye. Grinning wider when he looked at her, she said, "I was going to say I owe you one, but I'll take even."
He grunted. "I still want that bottle of whiskey."
She shrugged. "I'm sure as hell not going to drink it."
He chuckled and took another drag. "Don't tell me you're dextro sensitive."
"Nope," she said, turning her attention back out to the Wards. "Just think most dextro stuff tastes like shit."
Ares shrugged again, putting his hand back in his pocket, and she wondered if the deliberate slowness of the movement was for her benefit, his way of saying he didn't intend to pull a weapon on her. "Not drinking it for the taste, but okay."
She chuckled. "Fair point. Suppose if I wanted to get drunk bad enough, and that's all there was …. So, if you don't have a place set up … I've got a spare room."
He looked down at her, and when she begrudgingly returned his gaze a moment later, she saw confusion on his face. She forced her shoulders into a shrug, putting as much indifference as possible into the gesture, unwilling to let him see the pain his earlier words caused her and just how much she extended herself with the offer. Just in case … just in case things really had gone to irreparable shit between them despite his coming to her aid.
"If you want to crash at my place while you're here." She looked back out over the Wards, hearing the sound of C-Sec sirens in the distance. "Don't have anything for you to eat there, though, so we should probably stop somewhere and grab a few things."
He stayed silent for a long moment before he rumbled and said, "I don't sleep much, so I might be in and out at all hours. If you're a light sleeper, you might think this was a bad idea."
She was a light sleeper, and he probably damn well knew it, probably was one himself. She shrugged again. "Offer stands."
"Then I'll be sure to get myself some shit to eat," he said with a thrum in his chest.