"What is this place?" Shepard asked, glancing around warily at the crowd that was lined up at the entrance. The building itself was a single-story structure with the exterior awash in brightly colored lights and the pulsing beat of the music within audible at street level; this was one of the areas where most of the rubble had been cleared away and the majority of the structures remained largely intact. At night, when you couldn't see too far, it looked like nothing had happened. Which, Shepard figured, was a large part of its appeal.
"Just a dance club," Liara replied. "Jack told me about it; she said it was too quiet for her."
"Figures." There didn't appear to be any ongoing brawls, at least. Fleets from nearly every species in Citadel space had participated in the titanic battle in the Sol system, and the survivors had been stranded there when the Crucible had knocked the mass relays offline. They had begun to filter out once the Charon and Arcturus relays had connected, but there were still several million aliens on Earth. The patrons here looked to be mostly human, however … and nearly all of them were staring at Liara.
Crap. Just what she needed: a bunch of horny Earthborn who still believed the tired stereotype that all asari were sex machines and a best friend who had dressed the part. On the upside, no one seemed to recognize the legendary Commander Shepard without her armor and wearing a dress. Between that and the extremely high probability that she'd wind up punching more than one idiot tonight, things were looking up.
She had resigned herself to what looked to be at least an hour's wait in line, but Liara towed her straight for the door, speaking in a low voice to a bouncer who could have been Vega's body double. The lunk listened to the asari, gave Shepard a surprised double-take, then stepped aside.
"Go on in, Commander."
"Keep it down," she growled at him. If the damn press showed up, she was leaving and Liara could dance the night away with Khalisah al-Jilani.
"Will do, ma'am," he said, refusing the credits she offered him. "Corporal Adam Tate, 415th Brigade. I've got your back."
"Thanks, Corporal," she said quietly, touched by the promise and feeling a bit more secure in the knowledge that she'd have at least one more marine to back her up if things went to hell.
"I'm surprised he even recognized me," she remarked as she followed Liara inside. "I don't look much like the vids any more." It was more than the dress. She'd lost weight in the hospital, and diet and exercise hadn't brought her all the way back yet. The thick, red hair that had almost been a trademark had been shaved to treat the injuries she had sustained during the final battle; it had grown out into an unruly mop, too short to tie back and too long to comb down. At least she'd healed without major scarring; the medical teams had busted their asses on that minor miracle.
"You look beautiful," Liara replied, leading her to the bar, turning and reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. Blue fingers trailed down her cheek, dropping to trace the curve of the necklace, lingering over the emeralds. "You should dress like this more often."
"What for?" Shepard shrugged, trying to ignore the electric tingles pulsing along her skin wherever the asari's fingertips touched.
"I'm not a good enough reason?" Sapphire eyes watched her, the challenge in them mixed with something else that Shepard couldn't quite interpret.
"I'm here, aren't I?" she replied gruffly. There were only a few other people that she'd have let drag her out, and even fewer that she'd let talk her into a dress that only let her conceal a single pistol.
The smile that Liara gave her was a little sad. "Yes, you are," she said softly, turning away before Shepard could ask her what was wrong. "Would you like a drink?"
"Sounds good." If she was going to feel this strange while she was stone cold sober, she might as well add alcohol. She watched Liara lean across the bar to speak with the bartender (who hastily averted his eyes from the asari's cleavage when he saw Shepard glaring at him), and wasn't surprised when the shot glass that was set before her was filled with her preferred brand of tequila; Liara did know her well. She lifted the glass to her lips and downed the contents, liquid fire rolling smoothly down her throat and spreading in her belly. She set the glass on the bar, signaled for a refill, and only then noticed the blue liquid that Liara was downing.
She blinked. "Did you just drink ryncol?"
"Yes." Liara set the empty glass down and turned to her. "I am one-quarter krogan, after all."
Casey eyed her suspiciously. "I thought that wasn't how it worked?"
"The genetic code is a part of my makeup," Liara replied, pointing at her glass until the bartender topped it off again, then tossing it back as quickly as she had the first. "And given who my father is, a tolerance for ryncol seems likely to have been included in the selected genes."
Knowing Aethyta, Shepard wouldn't be surprised, but she also had a strong suspicion as to what the matriarch's reaction would be to the knowledge that Shepard was helping her daughter get drunk in a human bar. A headbutt would be the least of her problems.
"Oooh!" Liara's eyes widened, and she swayed visibly before giving Shepard a goofy grin. "I like ryncol!" she announced happily, waving her hand and pointing at her empty glass again.
Casey stared at her, feeling a distinct sinking sensation in her gut. "I thought you came here to dance?" she said, placing a restraining hand on her friend's wrist as she reached for ryncol shot number three, her own shot of tequila forgotten.
The tipsy grin turned into a sultry smile that made the warmth of the alcohol in Shepard's belly flare unexpectedly into a small bonfire. "Oh, I'm going to dance, Commander," she purred, slipping her hand from under Shepard's and tipping her head back to drink. She set the empty glass down and stepped close, the swell of her breasts pressing against Casey's arm. "I don't suppose you'd care to dance with me?"
Shepard swallowed hard and glanced at her shot glass, wondering if she had inadvertently downed a worm in her first drink. Things were getting more surreal by the second. "Nope." She shook her head. "You wanted me to look after you, so I'll just stay here and – um – look." God, that sounded wrong … didn't it?
"Please do." Liara pressed even closer for a dizzying second, then stepped back. "I suppose I'll have to find a partner, then." Turning, she sauntered unsteadily down the line of the bar. Eyes turned to follow her.
"I'm impressed," the bartender murmured. "Never saw anyone who wasn't a krogan take more than one shot without doubling over and heaving their guts up."
"She's one-quarter krogan," Shepard muttered absently, her mind occupied by trying to put everyone in Liara's general vicinity into a threat tier so she'd know who to take out first.
"No shit?" The bartender looked at her as though unsure if she was bullshitting him, then turned to stare after the asari. "She wants you," he offered in a matter-of-fact way.
"What?" Shepard looked at him sharply. "No. She's just a friend." She felt her fingers curl into a fist as the asari approached a muscular blonde guy that was looking at her like she was a steak dinner, but Liara passed him by, leaving him to glare at her back. Shepard immediately put him at the top of her list.
"Yeah, right," the bartender snorted. "If I had a 'friend' that was that friendly, I'd -" He broke off, swallowing nervously as cold green eyes fixed on him.
"Do not finish that thought," Shepard said in a flat tone, draining the shot glass and setting it aside. "Water," she ordered curtly, dismissing the tempting thought of a fortifying third shot … and maybe a fourth. She was going to need her wits about her tonight, it seemed, because apparently, Liara had lost her damned mind.
