"Do you have children, Commander?"
The question catches him by surprise, and he chuckles. "No, I don't, Eve. I'm not exactly a family type."
"But a man of your merit should definitely pass his genes on. It would be a great loss if you didn't. Haven't you found a worthy mate?"
A mate. All of a sudden, his mind is full of Jack's smile and lips and eyes, the defiant stride, the sensual dance, the tattooed limbs weaving with his, all the images and memories that he has been struggling to keep at bay night and day.
Eve leans forward, her voice gaining a deeper timbre. "I am sorry, Commander. Is she dead?"
After all his dealings with Wrex and Grunt and Wreav, Eve's perceptiveness offers an entirely different perspective – one that gives him hope for the krogan, though the thought how much depends on the single female is daunting.
Sometimes, he feels the same about his own role in it all.
"No, she's not dead," he replies, forcing himself to remain calm, yet again as he has so many times of late. "We had a break-up, though. She didn't take it lightly – broke my nose in a way of goodbye, actually," he tries to make light of it.
Unsuccessfully. Eve will not be deterred and her eyes are intent on him, and his strained defences are breaking.
In a way, it is a relief that someone is not deterred, not buying the light-hearted deflections or "mission first" crap.
"It was my fault. I let her down and I don't know if she would still want me back." And if not...
The wise reptilian eyes watch his struggle, the clawed hand rests on his – those very claws that dug Eve out of the darkness of a cave where she was buried alive.
Eve never gave up hope, be it against the ton of soil or the curse of the genophage. Whereas I -
"You need to talk to her. You know that, Commander. What holds you back?"
The answer is the one that presses on his mind at sleepless nights when he is afraid to lose that sliver of hope which still remains.
Suddenly heavy, the claws dig deep into his flesh. "Or would you give her up without a fight, Commander?"
"But I already have a fight that I must fully commit myself to. I cannot fight on two fronts -"
A deep grumble of Eve's vocal chords. "And you would let the Reapers make you think that you can have either a mission or a mate but not both? Would you grant them such a victory?"
"But -" he starts, about to reiterate all those sensible reasons that he has drilled into his mind – and then comes to realize how meaningless they have become.
His hand hurts but he suddenly feels much better than in months. "Ah – I see. You're right. I'll call her right after we wrap it up on Tuchanka." On an impulse, he puts his other hand over hers, feeling the scars on the scaly skin. "Thank you, Eve."
Behind her veil, the sharp teeth flicker in a smile. "You are working so hard to allow me and my people to procreate. I am merely trying to return the favour."