REVISED: September 20th, 2013
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, friends and strangers alike. Thank you for your support and encouragement!
And a special thanks to my friend, Pups, for his help with this chapter. :)
Scene One
On Your Mind
Every species behaves differently. Most of these behaviors are harmless. Some even make sense.
Some do not make sense. When Kolyat Krios squatted in front of a vending machine located outside of the 26th floor's shipping warehouse, he decided then and there that of all the species in the galaxy, not even the hanar could touch the human race when it came to bizarre behavior. At least hanar were aware of how difficult it was to relate to them. Humans didn't even communicate in bioluminescence and he still had trouble understanding them.
"Tupari!" the vending machine sang. "It's good for you!"
But at least they weren't responsible for this.
Kolyat resisted the urge to shove his omni-tool through the machine's innards. These stupid things had optical triggers that were far more sensitive than they had any right to be. Oh, not to mention they were annoying. Fortunately, his shoulders were sore enough as it was, and while his temperament was only one notch above sour he had more discipline than that.
So far, anyway.
"I seem to have come at a bad time," the individual behind him said. The almost inaudible hum of his translator-aid filtered through his head once he stood to stretch his legs.
He wanted to say yes but in truth his shift was nearly over, so instead he settled on schooling his features into something resembling 'far from happy but not altogether irritated.' For drell this meant narrowing eyes and twitching the brow, but hell if he knew if the human would even pick up on it.
"What did you want?" he rasped when he gave the Tupari machine another check-over. No signs of vandalism. The credit-chit slider was only slightly chipped with one scuff mark at the corner. Someone being rough with their chit, maybe, or someone trying (and failing) to extract the internal chit-sensor with some type of crude implement.
"I was wondering if we could share some elasa sometime," the human behind him answered without missing a beat. "Consider it a housewarming? But it's fine if you say no."
"And if I say no?"
"In that case-"
"Tupari!" the vending machine interrupted. "It brings your ancestors back from the grave!"
There was a beat of silence. Kolyat stifled a contemptuous huff and rapped his knuckles against the top of the Tupari machine before swiveling to face the human. She appeared more amused than he was; her eyebrows lifted, causing fine lines to sweep across the pale skin of her brow. It had taken him days to get used to how pliant human faces were, or how naked they looked without scales to offset their soft flesh.
"Pretentious, isn't it?" she laughed.
"It's annoying," he said with a pinch of his brow plates. He wanted to be further annoyed by how casually she was taking this confrontation but couldn't muster the energy to do so.
He must be more tired than he thought.
"Anyway," she began again. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled a curving alien smile. "It's fine if you say no. I don't know if drell have a similar tradition."
Kolyat crossed his arms and felt the pull of his uniform at the back of his shoulders. It was a needlessly defensive posture but old habits died hard.
"Housewarming," he repeated, trying out the odd phrase. It sounded thick on his tongue.
"Close enough," she confirmed. By this time Kolyat had moved out of the Tupari machine's detection radius and was standing in front of some stacked shipping containers. The human followed him at a respectful distance and stopped just below the luminous banner that scrolled above the warehouse doors.
From the other side of the doors, a salarian manager glanced up from a shipping manifest. "Krios," he greeted. "Get done sorting early today?"
"The A-level containers are all ready for the lifts," the drell confirmed while rubbing at a partially sleeved bicep. Scales tugged at the soft pads of his fingertips as he kneaded the flesh with a suppressed wince. He didn't mind physical labor but it wasn't something he was used to - not that he was a whiner.
"Good, good," the salarian said. "I appreciate the help. Wish we could get some dedicated mechs for jobs like this, but you know how it is." He turned his attention back to the datapad and blinked his lower eyelids twice. "I'll log your hours and send Sergeant Haron a copy. Don't forget to sign off on it back at the lobby."
Kolyat opened his mouth to say something but then changed his mind. It wasn't worth it. He was tired, and snark cost energy. Bailey would be stunned. Self restraint, son? You sick?
...And now he was starting to hear imaginary Baileys talking in his head.
Yep. He was tired.
Not to mention the human was watching. Her blue eyes – small, almost comically so compared to his – shifted from him to the salarian. The corner of her dark mouth tugged in that malleable human way that Kolyat was fast growing familiar with. To her credit, she said nothing. Kolyat waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and moved toward the front of the warehouse lobby.
"Whatever," he mumbled.
"I'll see you later, Krios," the salarian piped without looking up or acknowledging that he had heard. "And Miss...?" This time he did look up, if only for a split second.
"Oriana," the human answered. "Um - Just Oriana, please."
"Oriana. So long, then."
Oriana caught up with him outside the 26th floor terminal. An uneasy feeling curled in his chest when he locked eyes with her. It felt awkward. Even his arms felt awkward in the limp way they fell at his sides. He didn't particularly want to talk with her but his conscience kept him from breaking for cover. It seemed like they were always running into each other.
And it seemed like he was getting used to her company. That thought wrested a sigh from him.
"You must get that a lot," she observed once she'd moved to stand by his side.
"Get what?" The pale flicker of his pupils tracked the sweep of her dress as she came to a stop. She was quite a bit shorter than him, so he had to tilt his head to keep an eye on her.
"You know. 'Don't forget," she answered while doing a weird thing with her fingers. Air quotes?
Huh. Well, she had a point. But what was he supposed to say? 'Yeah, that is kind of a dumb thing to say to a drell'?
"Why should they care?" he grumped instead while flapping a scaled hand at the general they. He sure didn't care. It was a mutual exchange of not caring. That was how he liked it.
Oriana didn't seem phased by the outburst. "You'd think..." Her voice trailed off into a murmur before her expression brightened. "It's a little funny."
Kolyat had every intent of informing her just how Not Funny it was, so it was more than a little disconcerting when his mouth instead said: "At least you caught it."
She winked. It was one of the weirder human expressions he'd seen, considering their limited number of eyelids. "How could I forget?" she teased. "Perfect memory."
Kolyat's mouth felt suddenly dry. He poked at the back of his flat teeth with his tongue and swallowed air.
...Gods. He never knew how to respond to her and she was looking at him and waiting on just that: a response. A silence fell between them, short and sharp.
He had to say something. Some observation about humans, maybe. Or a joke.
Wait. No, no. He didn't do jokes. He didn't do spontaneous conversations either. And this was why!
"What did you want?" he blurted.
(– he stands – a bright blue banner specks the corner of his eyes and he nictates, studying the machine before him – straight angles, flat alloy, the buttons glow - "What did you want?" he asks her while noticing a scuff.)
...Oh.
Right.
If Oriana noticed the repeat then she didn't show it. "Maybe I should have asked this first," she ventured and looked uncertain for the first time. It was a very subtle change, but even the smallest brow furrow could speak volumes to a drell. "Do you drink?"
Kolyat raised an eye ridge. Oriana's slip of confidence boosted his own and he stood straighter as a result. She appeared to take this as an affirmation because she continued, "Do you like elasa?"
"I've never had it," he admitted, and felt some of his newfound confidence deflate. As far as he knew it was a fruity asari drink. He didn't do fruity asari drinks.
Did he?
"If it makes you feel better, I've never had hanar brewed beer," Oriana said with another curving smile. "It must be a lot stronger."
Kolyat's gaze darted to the side as he felt another memory brush at the back of his mind. A numb feeling warmed the back of his neck and he nictated his secondary eyelids at the unexpected strength of it.
(Pain lurches in gut as the edge of a basin digs under his ribs – a hand at his back rubs circles, warm against his bare back – he vomits again, spitting out bile as it sours and burns – "At least your father isn't here to see this," she murmurs as tears of shame blur his eyes – another lurch and he doubles over, stomach swimming as she wipes his mouth with soft cloth. "Next time ask what's in the cup before you drink it.")
"It is," he replied when the memory faded. "This is..." His voice wavered. "...Some kind of human tradition?"
"When someone moves into a new place they'll sometimes host a party and invite friends or neighbors, and these people will give that person gifts." She must have noticed his dubious expression because her smile spread into a small grin, one that flashed her teeth. "Honestly? I have some elasa left over and I'm not much of a solo drinker."
Kolyat frowned as the possible implications ran wild in his mind. "Did you do this when you moved?" he demanded while the scales on the back of his neck bunched. It made the skin beneath his collar itch but he made no move to scratch it. If this was about pity then he wanted no part of it.
"I did," Oriana answered. Her voice was softer than normal and her focus seemed to drift to the floor. It might not be perfect like his own, but Kolyat knew the look of someone who was lost in a memory. The muscles of his arm loosened when Oriana looked back up to him, and her eyes were clear again. "My sister and I shared a few drinks when I first got here. It's what gave me the idea."
Her words were even; sincere. Kolyat felt the back of his throat flutter when he sighed and rubbed at his temple. The thick, plated scales there dulled the sensation but the pressure was good enough.
"I..." He had no reason to say no, but he had no reason to say yes either. But what would either answer gain him? Bailey had been more than happy to point out on more than one occasion – and in far blunter terms – that forward thinking was not one of Kolyat's strengths.
But he'd known Oriana for more than a month now. They saw each other all the time, as much as the Wards permitted: him on his way to some service call, her on her way to some transit station. They passed each other in the C-Sec lobby sometimes. She'd run into him here by the warehouse a couple of times. Hell, they'd even been stuck under the 27th floor scanner together on one or two occasions...
(– blue eyes flash orange under the scanning grid as it hums – he points at the turian by the controls and asks, "Every time, Haron? Every time I enter the lobby?" – the sergeant laughs, pays him no mind – beside him she tries not to smile but he sees it reflected in the glass when she turns away – her voice, amused, carries through the hum: "It only takes a minute, Kolyat. It's not that bad.")
A clipped chime from his omni-tool cut Kolyat's response short. The sudden interruption seemed to invite the rest of the Wards into their personal bubble as the air filled with the murmur of crowds and the ring of kiosks. Oriana feigned disinterest (out of respect for his privacy, perhaps) and looked out toward the 26th level's hub as she interlaced her hands below her stomach. Kolyat half-turned to the side and triggered the device with his palm; a moment later the omni-tool hummed to life and as he tilted the viewspace towards him. The familiar orange glow was a stark contrast to the splotchy scales of his arm, but it was a tiny scrawl of text that caught his eye.
It was a reminder from his parole officer. Anticipation spiked in his stomach as Kolyat deactivated the omni-tool. Just like that, his thoughts were elsewhere.
He was on his last cycle of service before his third evaluation. If he showed well he would qualify for direct employ by Bailey. All he had to do was turn in today's hours, maybe log a few more...
Gods knew all the shifts he'd spent scrubbing up elcor piss at the Dark Star had to amount to something.
"Was it important?" his human companion inquired. The muscles behind Kolyat's frill twitched when her voice startled him back to the present.
"Yeah. I have to go." Oriana's face softened in understanding, but for some reason he felt compelled to add: "I have to turn in some things and... see about some stuff."
Things. Stuff. His situation wasn't a secret but discussing it out loud and in public was nonexistent on the list of things he'd like to do that day. Or ever.
"I shouldn't have kept you," Oriana apologized. She sounded genuinely contrite. It was a perfect opportunity for him to explain that he was as much at fault as she was but his pride, shriveled and flaccid as it was, prevented him from doing so. The objection came out as a muffled nrghmmphhrr noise instead.
Fortunately said noise was beyond a human's range of hearing, so all Oriana saw was his curt nod. Kolyat had learned long ago that incorporating inter-species body language made communication much easier.
"I'll see you later then," she said before easing out into the crowd. "It was nice talking to you."
"Yeah," he mumbled, half-listening and half-wondering if he meant it. His jaw tightened when he realized that he did. Almost.
Almost.
It wasn't until she was lost to sight that Kolyat realized he hadn't asked what she'd been doing on the 26th floor to begin with.
"I know you're weakening," a mechanized voice boasted from nowhere. "Tupari is on your mind!"
Kolyat whirled around to glower at the salarian manager, who at least had the courtesy to look embarrassed while he retrieved a Tupari Sport from the vending machine.
"Do you want one?" he asked the drell after an awkward pause.
Kolyat's scowl deepened.
"Give iiiin..."
Gods as his witness, as soon as he got a gun that was going to be the first thing he was going to shoot.
Kolyat,
I hope you don't mind the note. Or the drinks.
We didn't get to finish our conversation the other day. I thought about it, and decided I didn't want to put you on the spot. Don't make that face. You know it's true.
I decided to send some elasa anyway. Try it out and see if you like it. Maybe one day when we've got more time I'll stop by. Don't worry, you don't have to let me in!
Hope you don't mind that I knew what address to send this to. A little bird told me.
ADDT: That's a human idiom.
ADDT: It was Bailey.
See you around,
Oriana
The Wards never slept. They had no concept of day or night. Time passed in cycles and was regulated by galactic standard hours, but in the back of Kolyat's mind his biological clock was still counting the sunsets of Kahje that he could no longer see.
Nearly three of these had passed when he found the package secured outside his apartment door.
At first the sight had chilled him and conjured up dark memories and even darker thoughts. It had been a package that had brought him here and nearly cost him everything. It had also saved him, eventually, but that was something he was not prepared to admit just yet.
He approached this new parcel with a great deal of caution, all of which transformed into embarrassment once he studied the message that had been bundled with it. It was from Oriana. Not left by a ghost... just Oriana.
He brought the offering inside with him and set it on one of the counters. It looked nearly as awkward as he felt, sitting there like a yellow-spotted varren in the corner of the room, so he wasted little time dressing down from his new standard-issue C-Sec uniform to see what was inside. The barren air of the apartment soothed the hardened slope of his shoulders as he wrested the shirt over his head and peeked at the package from across the kitchen table. It hadn't moved or exploded yet, which was as good a sign as any.
It was a stupid thing to feel, but he couldn't help the stab of anxiety that twisted his gut when he moved to open it. He was not going to find a holo of a human child and a lifetime's worth of regret. He was going to find some fruity asari drink. Nothing more, nothing less.
Kolyat stopped to fold his shirt. The air against his bare torso felt icy and it wasn't due to the temperature. He frowned at his own nervousness and stacked the uniform next to a hamper before rounding on the counter and the thing still sitting on top of it.
The interior of his apartment was dead silent. The noise of him popping open the container nearly made him wince, but the discomfort soon transformed into curiosity when he removed two untouched cylinders of un-distilled elasa and set them on the countertop. Gods, how much of this did she have?
...Should he try it?
The smart thing to do would have been to wait until he had some proper food in his stomach - gods knew the crap from the dispensers in the 27th floor lobby barely counted as food - but he was curious. If he weren't so disagreeable he might have even been excited.
Kolyat unwound a cylinder and sniffed at its lip, recoiling as the fumes burned the inside of his nose. The reinforced heels of his boots thumped across the floor as he looked for a glass to pour a bit in. When he returned he tipped the elasa over and poured half a shot – just enough to get a taste – but as he stared down at the shimmering liquid with the cylinder still suspended in one hand, it didn't seem like enough.
Oriana drank it. Tiny, frilly, weird little alien Oriana. He was not a coward. Spurred by the thought and the memory of that dainty human face, he proceeded to triple the amount. Setting the cylinder aside, he raised the cup to his bottom lip and cinched his nostrils before letting the contents wash over his tongue.
What followed could best be described over a kitchen sink, because that's where Kolyat found himself moments later as he proceeded to spit out anything and everything that was inside his mouth.
"Son of a bitch," he swore while swallowing back a gag. No wonder he'd never tried this stuff. It tasted like shit.
While Kolyat had been calling this apartment his personal residence for weeks now, he had never bothered to commit things like the kitchen appliances to memory. But in that moment it felt like he knew nothing and no one as intimately as he knew the bottom of his kitchen sink, and with a grimace he finished washing off his tongue and teeth with water from the filter.
Okay. In retrospect having Oriana not present for this was a very, very good thing.
Gag.
Ugh.
It would have been easy to pour the rest of it down the sink, but something kept Kolyat from doing so. It was only when he snapped the lid back onto the first cylinder that the reason occurred to him.
'Maybe one day when we've got more time I'll stop by.'
Wiping the corner of his mouth, the drell allowed himself only a small frown as he moved the remaining elasa to one of the kitchen's overhanging shelves. She seemed to like it, so she was more than welcome to drink it whenever she damn well pleased. He'd be more than happy to get it out for her if she ever stopped by and he could be bothered to remember it was there.
(Dark hair halos pale skin as she turns, stops – blue dress uncurling as she looks at him, blue eyes dark on white – "You know. 'Don't forget.'")
It wasn't like he had a choice, but maybe that wasn't so bad.
