James leaned up against the bar on the upper level of the casino. It was not so energetic as Purgatory, but the liquor still tasted decent enough to make up for it. More than anything, he stuck out like a sore thumb. Dressed down in his typical garb he preferred about the Normandy, he was generally unconcerned with the stray sneers or eye rolls in his direction.

As luck would have it, he did not stay any sort of attention center for long. A small gathering formed by the dance floor, hushed voices commenting on two particular dancers. His view from the bar was obstructed, difficult to make out the shapes from where he was. Yet, James found himself intrigued. Anything that got this much attention from the crowd had to be worth a look.

Pushing off the bar and sauntering toward the growing group, one brow jerked upward in surprise. Closer inspection revealed a human-turian pair. And a very familiar one at that. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. The sight was quite unexpected, especially given the rumors he'd heard of Elara's… odd dancing habits.

He moved through the audience with relative ease, crossing his arms across his chest once he reached the front row. James swallowed the growing lump in his throat, shifting ever so slightly in his discomfort of the growing sensations zipping through his body.

Yet in spite of it all, he gave an unashamed rake of his eyes across her body. Taking in the fact that she was wearing that dress. The one he'd only recently been able to clear from his mind's eye. The image of her dripping wet; the fabric hugging each and every curve of her body and leaving very little to the imagination. The mix of water, sweat, and blood that had made the sight all the more alluring when he'd first seen her after her little… incident.

James clenched his jaw, arms flexing as he tried every possible way to ground himself and keep his cool. It didn't take long to realize she'd taken note of him. A devious glint in her eye as she spun away from Garrus, and right at him. He sucked in a sharp breath through his nostrils. At this distance, this painfully close distance, he easily caught a whiff of the essence that was distinctly Elara Shepard. That was Lola.

There was a smugness in the grin she gave him, a teasing invitation for him to try something. Anything. And God help him, was he tempted. Tempted to join the intricate dance, to take over the dance. To just pull her close and kiss her until she couldn't breathe. But rather than words, rather than action, a strangled sound of interest clawed it's way up from his throat.

And all too soon the moment passed. Fluttering by as Garrus outstretched his arm to pull Elara back in close to him. James felt his stomach flip, his breath hitch as the dance drew to its conclusion. He turned, slipping away from the spectacle, down the stairs and out of the casino. He needed to find a place alone to relieve the ever building tension. Preferably before it drew him to do something utterly loco.