Sara's nose wrinkled as she stepped down from the Tempest. She'd been told that this place was a hole, packed full of people who were too unpleasant or criminal to be allowed to remain on the Nexus. Exiles, outcasts, shady characters. It didn't smell like there were any sewage workers in their numbers. The place reeked to high heaven.

The people milling around the docking area gave some clue to the source of the aromas. Grubby clothes, greasy hair, dirt ground into their skin. Sure, there were problems with the water source around here, but Sara wondered if any of these people had had a bath in their lives. She rubbed a hand over her nose, trying to breathe in the scent of her own clean skin as a barrier to the filth of the city.

No doubt Kralla's Song would be worse. She remembered the nightclubs of the Citadel – dark, sweaty places where even the most virtuous of people could find themselves getting into trouble. If things were that rough in the Milky Way, she dreaded to think what the watering holes were like in this place.

Mind, in the Citadel clubs, she could always be certain that she'd find some fun to be had. There were usually a good few attractive soldier types around, either before or after a bottle of whisky. She'd lost count of the nights she'd find herself in a back alley, legs wrapped around a tall turian or a muscular human, gasping into the darkness. Somehow, she doubted that even an entire bottle of spirits would be enough to persuade her that the same type of entertainment might be on the cards here. Shame. It had been a few weeks since her brief dalliance with Liam on the Tempest – cute, but rather too clumsy for her tastes - and she was starting to get a bit antsy.

The bar wasn't as bad as she'd feared. Yes, the music was loud and the room was dark, and there was a definite stench of stale beer. But it wasn't overly busy, and the floor looked as if it had been cleaned in the past year. Her shoes didn't even stick to it that much.

She was leaning over the counter to attract the attention of the asari bartender, who was arguing with a krogan, when she became aware of a warm body looming beside her.

"You look like you're waiting for someone."

The voice was low and sultry, tinged with an accent she had not heard for many years. It sent a tickle down her spine, and she turned her head slowly, hoping that the man speaking was not one of the grim and greasy exiles she'd seen hanging around earlier.

He wasn't.

He'd already turned away from her to collect drinks from the bartender – who had leaped to serve him immediately – and she let her eyes graze down his profile. Skin like burnished copper, dark hair swept into a neat style, eyes the colour of her favourite vintage whisky, full lips which seemed to be permanently quirked into a half-smile. And he looked relatively clean and well-presented. She felt her stomach twist and send a shard of desire sparking through her abdomen.

Damn, Sara thought, if only I was here on a night out and not on a mission, I might be tempted.

The man turned and met her gaze, holding out one of the two tumblers he held. Sara looked down at it, and back up at his eyes.

"I've got time for a drink," she said, reaching out to take it. Her fingers grazed his, and she felt her skin prickle. She lifted the mug to her nose, scenting a harsh single malt. One of those down-in-one drinks. Which was precisely what she did, with a wry smile.

The man downed his, too, slamming the mug down before tilting his head to one side and regarding her intently.

"Shena," he said. "But you can call me Reyes, I hate code names."

Sara would have choked on her whisky, had she any left. So this was her Angaran contact. To say he wasn't what she expected was an understatement. She said as much to him and he chuckled, a warm, languorous sound.

"I work for the Angarans. The Resistance pays me to supply information," he hesitated and grinned, "among other things."

Ah. A smuggler. Sara thought that it was only to be expected. It seemed that everybody on this planet was a criminal of sorts. At least this one was of the smooth variety. She snickered, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry. I don't know why I was surprised that you were a smuggler."

Reyes gave her another of those little smirks which played so easily across his face, and gazed at her in silence for a few beats. Then, with a little shake of his head, he moved away from the bar, now all business.

"The man you're after – Vehn Terev – was arrested by Sloane Kelly, leader of the Outcasts. Word spread about what he did to Moshae Sjefa. The people are calling for his execution. Sloane? Well, she's a woman of the people."

Sara snorted. "Say it like it is, she's a goddamned criminal."

"Aren't we all?" Reyes said. "Anyway, Sloane was part of the uprising on Nexus, I doubt she will give Terev up to you easily."

"I'm taking him, with or without her permission," Sara said with a wide smile. She'd heard a lot about Sloane. In her opinion, the woman was all talk.

Reyes rewarded her bravado with another of those chuckles which shot straight to her centre. "We are going to be friends, you and I."

The thoughts appeared in her mind before she could stop them. Only friends? I hope not. She just about managed to stop herself saying the words aloud, the tip of her tongue catching in her teeth. Reyes looked at her as if he had heard them, anyway.

He inhaled sharply. "There might be another way to get to Vehn. You work Sloane, I'll talk to the Resistance."

All business again. He turned to walk away, and Sara called out after him. "How do I contact you if things go south?"

That smirk. One side of his plush lips pulling up, giving him a look which was like a dagger to Sara's stomach. His eyes glinted before he closed one of them in a roguish wink, leaving Sara speechless and shifting her feet from side to side in an attempt to steady her breathing and ease the sudden ache between her legs. She didn't even argue when the bartender charged her for the whiskies that Reyes had ordered.

Later that night, back on the Tempest, she had never felt so glad to have her own private quarters.

Jaal grumbled about hanging around Kadara, trying to push Sara into taking the Tempest to other, more pleasant places. But, Sara thought, this stuff wasn't about pretty flowers and waterfalls. It was about making places more habitable, finding somewhere sustainable for everyone to live. It wasn't until Reyes suggested that the Roekaar were behind the murders in the Kadaran slums that Jaal stopped complaining and became more interested.

Sara was less interested in the corpses, and more interested in the very alive body currently installed in the upstairs room of Tartarus, a club even seedier than Kralla's Song. Reyes was terrible at hiding his delight at her visits, his rich ochre eyes growing wide and shimmery each time he looked up to see her standing in his doorway. For her part, she was always happy to be there, happy to help him with the tasks that he asked of her. Always with the expectation that he would help her out in future with her objectives, of course, but if she was being honest she was there just because she wanted to be.

Between them, they solved the murders and made Kadara just a tiny bit safer. Sara was feeling quite pleased with herself – and, she felt, she had got to know Reyes just a tiny bit more. When she helped him take out his smuggler rival – who also turned out to be his ex-girlfriend, which made putting a bullet in her head a little more personal – she received a flurry of openly flirtatious emails from him which made her giggle like a teenager.

And then, an invite to Sloane Kelly's party.

Sara brushed her hair, dug out a clean set of clothes and even applied a little bit of mascara. She knew that this wasn't a traditional party – for starters, it was hosted by Sloane Kelly, a dangerous woman who hated her – but it was a chance to spend more time with Reyes. Or so she thought. She hadn't even been there for five minutes when Reyes disappeared, leaving her wandering around the dingy room talking to strangers. She was less than impressed when she finally got away from a turian who wanted to monopolise her to complain about all his worldly problems, and realised that she hadn't seen Reyes for over half an hour. Some date this had turned out to be.

She found him in a store room, digging around in boxes with a distracted look on his face.

"Hey, Reyes. Where the hell did you get to? It's kind of rude to leave your date hanging, you know."

"Ryder!" Reyes got to his feet, hands out in a mollifying gesture. "It's not what it looks like. Trust me, this is for both our benefits, I promise."

Sara raised an eyebrow. "You've been making a lot of promises."

Reyes opened his mouth to reply, but a shuffling sound outside the door drew his attention.

"Shit – someone's coming. We need a distraction!"

Sara didn't know why it was the first thing she thought of, but it was like her body went into auto-pilot. Her arms went around Reyes' waist and she leaned forward to press her lips against his. Briefly, his spine went rigid and his expression froze. Sara stroked one hand down his back and with a sigh he relaxed, returning the kiss, softer and more gentle than she might have expected.

From behind her, and through the blood thrumming in her ears, Sara heard the guard clear her throat and mumble, "Oh – sorry!" followed by the sound of footsteps hurrying away.

Reyes broke away from her and stepped back, taking a deep breath. "I think we're in the clear."

Sara's voice was rough and husky as she looked him in the eye. "Maybe another kiss? Just to be sure."

Reyes' bronze skin flushed a shade darker and he let out a low chuckle. "Now you're just teasing me."

Sara shook her head and laughed. Oh, if only he knew.

Whisky. It had been whisky that he'd been searching for in the dingy little store room. Not just any old bottle, either. Triple-distilled Mount Milgrom bourbon, a bottle that had come through centuries of space travel with them, lending new meaning to the word "aged".

"I hope you're planning to share that, Reyes," Sara said, gazing at the bottle hungrily. She hadn't had a decent whisky since before cryo-sleep, and this went way beyond decent.

"We'll see." Reyes looked at her through narrowed eyes, a smile creeping across his features. "Come on, let's get out of here."

He grabbed her hand and she had to sprint to keep up with him as he led her through the corridors of the Outcast headquarters.

Sara gazed around at the view. It was the best she had seen Kadara look, she thought, the sun setting over the city and the sky a rich burnt orange and deep crimson. Up here, on the rooftops, even the smell didn't seem so bad. She took another drag from the whisky bottle and sat back, eyes closing, feeling the heat of the liquor trickle smoothly down her throat.

Reyes exhaled loudly beside her as his gaze swept across the city beneath them.

"Gorgeous, isn't it? I sometimes forget." He turned to look at Sara. "So, Ryder. Is Andromeda everything you hoped it would be?"

"Every day's an adventure. Even my nights off are interesting." She handed the bottle back to Reyes, her eyes sweeping over his face, his skin glowing warmly in the dying rays of the sun, his expression solemn. "What about you? Why did you come here, Reyes?"

He regarded her carefully, thinking about her question, before turning away and taking a long swig of whisky, pulling a bitter face. His voice, when it came, was softer than she had ever heard it, almost sorrowful.

"To be someone."

Something in her heart ached for him then, this suave and clever criminal, this man who made a living in the filthy places between the law and the grave. There was so much she wanted to know about him in that moment. All she could do, instead, was to reach out and lay her hand on his arm.

"You're someone to me."

There was something desperate about his expression when he heard her words, something lost and dark and wanting in the way he cupped his hand around her cheek and leaned towards her.

"I'm starting to think that kiss was more than just a distraction," he murmured, before moving in to meld his mouth against hers once more.

He smelled like gun oil and leather and tasted of whisky. Sara sighed as she felt his tongue trace the seam of her lips and scrabbled her fingers loosely against his back as he leaned into her and explored her mouth with vigour and passion. This kiss was nothing like the dry-lipped, hesitant mouthing of the previous one. This was real, and they both knew it. She saw his eyes flicker closed and felt his body relax into hers, as if he had been carrying six hundred years of tension in his shoulders which had seeped out in an instant across the dirty rooftops of Kadara.

She had no idea how long they kissed for, only that their bodies, pressed together, sank into darkness as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. His arms encircled her waist, her hands tracing long lines down the centre of his spine as he shivered beneath her palms. Her skin was fizzing with need and she leaned into his body as if she could melt and become a part of him. Every so often, he would groan, low and soft, into her mouth and, with each little noise he made, she would feel another flame burst into life between her thighs. She had never wanted anyone as much as this man, never felt the burn of desire as hot as this.

"I want you, Reyes," she murmured, her voice breaking, as he moved his lips down to press against the soft skin of her neck. He shuddered and shook his head.

"Not here, Sara. You deserve better than this."

"Reyes." She drew out his name in long whining syllables as his soft mouth traced hot lines down to the collar of her shirt. "It doesn't do to keep a lady waiting."

He chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder. "So you're a lady now?"

She slapped his arm lightly. "Of course I am. I just happen to be a lady who knows what she wants."

Reyes sighed, a long exhalation of whisky-scented breath. "And I want the same thing. But not yet. There are… things I need to do, first. Trust me. It's for the best."

Sara felt a spear of jealousy shoot through her. "Another girlfriend to get rid of?"

Reyes shook his head and laughed softly. "No. Nothing like that. There's nobody else."

"You keep asking me to trust you," Sara said, running a hand over her hair and frowning. "As if you're a model citizen, not some backstreet smuggler who makes a living out of doing people over."

"Ah, but I've been honest about my tendencies," Reyes said, eyes narrowed. "Look, Sara, I'm all yours. Just, be patient with me, okay? You'll understand, later."

Sara grunted and rolled her eyes. "I have no idea why I'm putting up with this."

"Because I'm devastatingly attractive and a great kisser?"

She couldn't deny that. "We can keep kissing, though, right?"

Reyes' smile reached his eyes which glittered in the twilight.

"As many kisses as you want."