Haron spent nearly an hour in Bailey's back office, working through the mountain of paperwork generated by the mission that hadn't quite gone awry. Back up, emergency medical services, beat cops to keep the public at bay; all of those services cost money. The bureaucracy of the higher ups, in its credit pinching wisdom wanted to be 100% that requisitioning said services had been an absolute necessity before they shelled out money to cover the cost. Otherwise, it would fall on this particular department.

Haron was down to his last datapad, and he sighed with relief. One last signature on his official statement and he could go home and start sorting out a different kind of mess.

Flowers and other expensive trinkets had always helped smooth things over with Shatira, but Haron doubted those sorts of gifts were to Kolyat's tastes. He tapped his stylus against the datapad as he wracked his brain.

What did he know about Kolyat? Aside from what was in his file, definitely not enough. The drell had been as loath to share as Haron was, but a few things had snuck through his guard.

Kolyat enjoyed music—but who didn't? Usually he played it too low to hear outside of his room, but last night it had been blaring, loud enough that he wouldn't hear Haron return to the apartment. At that volume, it just sounded like unintelligible noise. Haron couldn't make out the lyrics or even the genre. Getting someone music they wouldn't like could be as bad as buying clothes a size too large. Haron had found that out first hand wand wasn't willing to risk it again.

Scratch that idea.

It was far easier to name things Kolyat disliked that to pin down something he actually cared for.

He hated shopping, but Haron couldn't fault him for that. He hated it, too, and avoided it when he could. Kolyat seemed to hate clothes. He rarely got dressed when they were set to just stay in the apartment all day, not that Haron didn't appreciate the scenery. The drell even disliked video games as blasphemous as that sounded. Though, to be fair, he may have hated losing more than the games themselves. Haron had seen him storm out of the living room in a fit of anger on more than one occasion.

The only thing Haron could remember Kolyat showing any exuberance for was…

Food.

During one of his research sessions, Haron had come across a site boasting recipes that were sure to be—in their own words— "titillating" for drell. He never much stock in those sorts of claims, but in this case, it might be worth a shot. He was already formulating a game plan.

First, he'd stop at that specialty store, the one that imported items from all over Citadel space. Then, he'd go home and amaze Kolyat with a meal prepared with his own hands. All right, maybe not amaze—he'd settle for mildly impressed. After dinner, if Kolyat was up for it, a healthy portion of Haron for dessert.

He knew it was corny, and the look on his face must have been nothing short of lecherous, but he couldn't help it. Make up sex was one of Haron's favorite things about arguing with a lover. Sex on its own was great, but something about the emotions involved made it all the sweeter. Plus, if it even happened, this would be their first time.

Haron knew he was getting ahead of himself, but he was on a roll. Just thinking about trying positions that had piqued his interested and subsequently saved to his terminal at home was getting him so—

"You alright over there?" Bailey glanced up from his respective stack of datapads and raised a brow. "You're looking very 'cat who ate the canary' over there."

Haron cocked his head to the side. He was pretty sure he'd just been caught with his mind in the gutter, but it was the terminology with which he'd been caught that intrigued him. "I'm sorry? I look what?"

Bailey sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sometimes I forget who I'm talking to. It means something like… you look satisfied with yourself, almost smug. Anything you care to share?"

"Oh… I'm down to my last form." Haron glanced down at the pad and the large white blotch where his signature should have been. He flipped the stylus over and began the tedious task of erasing. "Maybe that's it."

"Maybe," Bailey snorted with a shake of his head.

Haron slid the pad across the desk. "All done, sir." He flexed his hand, trying to work out a cramp. He'd written his name down so many times, he was sure the stylus could probably do it from memory by now.

"Those bureaucrats really don't mess around."

"Yeah, no kidding." Bailey picked up the pad and scrolled through the information idly.

"Do you need me for anything else or am I finally free to go?"

"Just a few more things," Bailey said as he rummaged through the top drawer of his desk. "Shouldn't take more than a minute." He pulled out a small leather case and flipped it onto the desk.

"What's that?"

"An identification card for the kid. He came to the station with a false one, figured it was time we made him official. After all, you can't work for C-Sec without being a registered resident." He added quickly, "I used your address. I hope that's alright."

Bailey had said it all so nonchalantly and so quick, too, like Haron was supposed to know. The turian cocked his head again, clearly confused. "Come again?"

"I gave it some thought and I got the Krios enrolled in C-Sec Academy. I had to pull some strings to get this off the ground, so he's gotta be sure he wants this. He needs to be there every day on time."

It was better than Haron had dared to hope. At most, he thought Bailey would put in a word with one of his civilian contacts and get Kolyat a gig as a delivery boy or something low key. This… this was security. It paid well, they even provided a healthy stipend while he was still undergoing training. It was a perfect fit for Kolyat. But it all hinged on him.

The job was there if he wanted it, but if he decided he didn't, Haron would help him find something else.

"If he decides this is what he wants to do, he's to show up bright and early at the beginning of next week, no later than oh-seven-hundred. You're on leave until then, to help him get ready." Bailey jabbed his stylus in Haron's direction, in an attempt to look menacing, but all Haron could see was the big softy he had for a C.O.

"Now hurry up and get out of here." Bailey said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I've still got work to do."

Haron rushed straight home. In the wake of this news, his idea to make Kolyat dinner seemed stale. They had to do it up big. This was worth celebrating. If it were him, he'd want to do something flashy and exciting, out of the ordinary. But Kolyat wasn't him, but a long shot. He ran over a few ideas, but ultimately, it would be up to Kolyat.

When had it come to this? Two months ago, Haron couldn't put enough distance between him and the drell's bad attitude, now he couldn't wait to see him and wipe that surly look from his face.

Haron opened his apartment door and his elation was quickly replaced with dread.

All of his posters, trinkets and datapads were in a heap on the living room floor. The wall scroll for Nekiya corridor was torn from end to end and carelessly on the top of the pile. There would be no replacing it.

For a brief moment, Haron considered that Kolyat was more upset than he let on. But Haron didn't think he had the capacity to be this cruel. Haron could only think of one person who could have such a flagrant disregard for anyone else's things.

"Welcome home," Shatira said as she rushed from the extra room—Kolyat's room—her arms thankfully empty. She went in for a hug, but Haron stepped back cautiously.

"What are you doing here?"

"What a silly question." Shatira shook her head as if correcting someone with whom she'd lost patience. "I live here."

"You haven't lived here for a year, Shatira." She didn't respond to his comment, but instead dropped down to the meson the floor.

"Do you want all of this to go into storage? Or maybe we should donate it… Oh! We could have a bonfire."

Something was very, very wrong. Haron took a few more steps back.

"Let's start with something easier." Haron took a steadying breath. "How did you get in here?"

"The super, " Shatira said conversationally. "He let me in once I told him I forgot the new code. He overrode it really quick. Nice guy." She smiled as she shifted through Haron's things.

"Where's Kolyat?" Haron had been so distracted by her sudden reappearance that he'd forgotten the reason he'd rushed home in the first place. He was about to call out to him when Shatira said "Oh, that's his name?"

She shrugged. "Damned if I know. He came by earlier, but he didn't stay long. I think my being here might have upset him."

Haron was losing his patience. Clearly he was dealing with someone who was either incredibly disturbed or self-absorbed or a smattering of both. He couldn't begin to imagine what her exchange with Kolyat must have been like with her in this state and Kolyat so… Kolyat.

"You need to leave, Shatira."

"But I just got here. I was even trying to fix up the place so it can be how it was. With Kolyat gone, things can get back on track."

"You aren't welcome here," Haron growled, the last strands of his control primed to snap. "If you won't go on your own, I'll have someone assist you."

Shatira laughed, a merciless, cruel sound. "Who? C-Sec? You'd never—"

"I would," Haron said coolly. "Feel free to try me, though." He opened his omnitool, talons hovering just above the interface.

"You don't mean that." Shatira's confident cackle turned into a nervous titter that punched the stale air as she moved towards him in a poor pantomime of seduction. "You can't really prefer Kolyat over me." She draped her arms over his neck, a feather light touch tickling his cowl. "He's so young. He doesn't know half of what I know."

"That may be true… But He's got something you don't."

"I hear that's overrated… but if that's really what you're into, I could always get one-"

"Kindness," Haron bit out. A genuine concern for others. A good heart."

Shatira laughed in his face. "You can't be serious."

"When was the last time you did something for someone without expecting something back? Ever? To be fair, you probably would have helped me, if only not to inconvenience yourself.

"Be real for a minute. You never loved me. You stayed because I adored you. But then that novelty wore off and you left. But I don't blame you. I was boring. I lost focus, lost who I was. That tends to happen when you're in such an unhealthy relationship."

She slapped him full on in the face with a hand swathed in a biotic field. It still probably hurt her hand more than it did his face, but he still turned his cheek.

"You're such a loser, Anur. Do you even know what you're giving up?"

"I do." And Shatira left just as quickly as she'd blustered back into his life.

Haron collapsed into his armchair, his knees finally giving out. Even when they were together, dealing with her had been an ordeal that left him feeling drained.

He opened up his omnitool and wrote himself a note. In the morning, he and the manager would have to have a talk regarding Shatira's presence. Right now, he had more pressing matters to attend to and he was going to need help.

"This is Sergeant Haron, Anur badge number zero-eight-seven-four-alpha-tango-Charlie. Patch me through to Lieutenant Nodi."