That, Tri'im thought, grimacing at the sharp ache in her neck and jaw, was a bad idea. The last images from her dream, which had morphed from a pirate adventure to a pitiful attempt to fly in the Presidium, faded away. Sitting up straight didn't help, her back protesting after being hunched over for the night.

One eye opened showed Jinny curled up, still fast asleep. Tri'im reached over the sleeping girl, one leg on the ground, then the other, then gradually removing the rest of her weight. She almost unlocked the bed, hand halfway to the mechanism before she caught herself and cracked open her other eye to ponder the bed's remaining occupant. It was, she had to admit, kind of tempting to unlock it and see at what angle Jinny woke up and keep going just to tease.

Kinda like it had been in the cabal. Sibling-y, as confirmed by her teammates who had siblings.

Ah, no point to it here and now. She shook her head and stepped out and down the stairs.

Her mother was nowhere to be seen. Somewhat surprised, Tri'im blinked and wandered around the perimeter of the room, listening for the sound of movement in the rooms above. Nothing. She made a slow spiral inwards, ending at the datapad lying on the counter.

Hi Tri'im,

I got called in for a little extra work. Apparently a big liner hit something and had to dock here. Lots of folks trying to get through, so all hands on deck here! I managed to stop by the store and get some levo food for your friend. Have fun!

Love,

Mata

Well, that explained it. Galantian was always first for pulling extra duty at the Citadel's port security, especially at odd hours. At times Tri'im wondered if she was just looking at scans all day or if she'd managed to get her old job as an undercover C-Sec agent back.

She checked the fridge. There were indeed a handful of foods labeled 'LEVO' stashed in one half of a shelf, surrounded by 'DEXTRO's and unmarked containers with varying amounts of leftovers. A jar of pickled eggs, with the majority of the label in an asari script, a pack of flat bread that resembled the dan she was more familiar with, a bunch of yellow, curved fruit, and something labeled as 'peanut butter.' With a shrug, she grabbed a packaged slice of auronnech and shut the door.

It wasn't long after the slab of meat hit a frying pan that Jinny got up and shuffled about, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She took the same datapad-to-fridge route Tri'im had, ending when she stood with the fridge door open for around a minute.

"Hey, no wasting the cold."

The door shut hard. "Oh, uh, sorry."

After Tri'im turned back to her auronnech, she heard the door open again and before long a ripping sound. Predator quick, she homed in on the source, which turned out to be Jinny, who popped back up with the peanut butter, bread, and a yellow fruit in hand. The initial rush of the unknown condensed into disappointed sludge, even more so when the girl asked where the plates and a knife were.

"Uh, can I ask you something?"

Tri'im turned a palm up while the other hand maneuvered the meat from pan to plate. "Sure. Might not answer, though."

Jinny hesitated by the stove, apparently abandoning any further cooking plans to follow Tri'im to the seats by the counter, hauling herself up while Tri'im settled in. "Oh, well, it's about last night."

"What, do I snore?" Please don't let this become a cryfest. I don't know what to do. You've been sturdy this whole time, no breaking down on me now.

"Nuh uh, it's just that you were talking about your dad and a krogan?" Jinny tittered, taking a bite of her sandwich. "I don't know, you were talking kinda weird, and like, I thought I'd ask?"

The conversation stopped while Tri'im picked at her food, debating whether or not to answer. The question picked at a wound she thought had scabbed over, and she wasn't sure if the scab was ready to come off yet. But for her, there had always been only one way to find out. "He was a brute."

"Like, as in-"

"As in a brute. Reaperized." She picked up the slice of auronnech and mumbled, "Hardly lasted six months."

"Oh...sorry." Now Jinny's voice was low, soft-spoken in a way that pissed Tri'im off. Why couldn't she be quiet all the time, instead of doing shit that got her in trouble? "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just hungry." With that Tri'im ripped into her breakfast, shoving thoughts of her father out of her mind and memories back into locked boxes, forcing in considerations of what to do today instead. Jona and Traii were probably recovering from their night out, but it was worth a try.

Jona. My place? The biocircuitry along the side of her face glowed for a moment as she sent the message.

There wasn't a reply until she was at the sink, cleaning her plate. Ugh. Going places? Is there food at least?

Her mandibles twitched. Only your stash.

"Hey, Jona's going to be here soon. Traii, too, maybe." She stepped aside to let Jinny wash her plate, giving her wet hands a quick swipe on her pants. Hm. She'd have to explain why Jinny was staying here. Not like Jona couldn't keep a secret. Traii would just need to keep the camera drones out.

"Uh..." Jinny bit her bottom lip (how could a soft-faced organic deal with sharp teeth like those without mangling themselves?), eyes darting side to side. The only movement near her was running water.

Both hesitated for a moment before Tri'im shrugged it off, moving like an unpaused vid. "Trust me. It'll be fine."

Still, Jinny insisted on hiding in Tri'im's room. The turian was stewing on the couch at the situation when the door keyed open. Jona stood in front of the doorway, foot raised as if he planned to kick his way in. His balance failed soon enough, sending him stumbling into the apartment, Traii not far behind.

Jona made his way to the fridge, steadying himself on it while grabbing one of the bottles from a door shelf. "Carbs..." he groaned, holding the bottle to the light. "Glorious, glorious carbs."

Soon Tri'im found herself pushed to the edge of the couch, Jona wedging himself in the middle, and Traii curled up beside him, arms over their head. She gave them a side-eye, more for show than anything.

Jona produced a straw from a side pocket, quick to tear off the sterile packaging and stick it in the bottle. He fitted the straw to his mouthpiece, then hesitated to ask, "Mother's already at work?"

"Mmhm," Tri'im answered, watching Jona's straw darken with nutrient slurry. Just looking at it reminded her of the time he'd let her try some, and how boring it had been. She still remembered the taste of the vaguely grain-flavored sludge, and she had last had it a year ago. "Work. Port got busy."

Traii squinted at her. "The spaceport? The Clarke collided with debris, yes? That is what I heard."

"Yeah, well, she works security, so that's why." She readjusted, giving herself more room on the couch, just enough to be comfortable. "So, last night."

That got a laugh from Jona and brought a glaze (she figured it was wistful) over Traii's eyes. "If only you were there," Jona said, considering his quarter empty bottle. "I might need two of these."

Traii chuckled under their breath, producing more shuddering than anything.

Jona nudged them in the side. "Thinking of Eternity?"

The question got a hum from Traii and started jealousy gnawing at Tri'im's stomach. The raloi unfolded, chin pressed to their chest. "We were lucky, weren't we?"

Jona threw his head back, barking out a sharp hah! "They were lucky, you mean." He leaned closer to Tri'im, whispering, "This fellow can flirt like a pro." He turned back to Traii. "Remember Fazia?"

That was definitely wist in their eyes. Tri'im ensured she wasn't connected to Jona before indulging in her jealousy and the new aches that Fazia represented. One of the Afterlife dancers, displaced during the war, who came with her old crew to Eternity on rare occasions. It was hard for Tri'im not to lust after her, but actually talk to her? Few dared.

"Them and... and Fazia?" She couldn't help but sound incredulous. Traii just tilted their head away, trying to be humble.

Jona nodded, eyes wide. He took a sip of his drink before continuing. "Poetry. Apparently she likes poetry!"

Poetry. Why hadn't she thought of that? She ignored Traii's muttered explanations, trying to find one of her own. Soon she shrugged, leaning back. "You're probably real attractive to her, Traii. Being different and all."

Their eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

She straightened up again, mentally slapping herself and trying to come up with something to salvage the situation. "You're raloi and everything-" Not good enough! "And I bet nobody else would think a dancer likes poetry."

They sighed, not relaxed enough to look entirely satisfied by her answer, but it would do for now. "I am certain lessons in interspecies communications helped." Now their laugh was dry. They stood, taking a moment to examine the apartment. "I, ah, where is the bathroom?"

"Go towards the stairs, door on the right," Tri'im and Jona answered in unison. The two sat in silence while Traii found their way.

The bathroom door clicked shut. "Look, Tri'im," Jona half-hissed, half-whispered, "I know it may be hard for you, but please be nice to them. No backhanded insults or anything, okay?"

She hunched fowards, elbows on her knees and chin on her interlaced hands. "What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"Ugh, I don't know, but-" He flipped over so he was on top of her, mask inches from her face, hands on her shoulders, legs around hers, feet perched on her spurs. Seriously. Tri'im. They could be the key!

She held back her uncertainty, but narrowed her eyes all the same. Is that what this is all about?

Honestly, yes. But think about it! Bringing a diplomat's favor back home? It puts geth parts to shame! A burst of thoughts, half-formed ideas and more complete fantasies flashed in her head from his. A common thread of adoration and acceptance ran through all of them.

It was attractive. Go with it, let Jona play up Traii until he'd won the raloi over for the quarians. Then watch as he went back to Rannoch, his Pilgrimage done, which hurt in a way Tri'im knew was selfish. She nodded, gripped him by the shoulders, and moved him off her lap. I get it. Be nice to the bird.

Good Tri'im. Jona patted her shoulder before breaking the connection. The two sat back to wait for said bird to finish in the bathroom.

The satisfied silence was broken by the sound of footsteps on the stairs, a door swishing open, and dual high-pitched screams.