Jane rifled through the various outfits Nalah dropped off. They were meeting at the clinic before heading to Dilia'u. It was a restaurant-bar run by an asari couple and where she was due to play. That little tidbit of news was not received well. She prepped for a night-club. Not a restaurant. Apparently, her research into the place had been sub-par.
She pulled on a green, army-man tank-top with (CHEW THE BULLET) written in bold, fat letters, a pair of tight, black slacks and combat boots. The blouse had a scoop neck yet refrained from showing an abundance of cleavage. Okanna's ass, she'd had enough of having to dress like that.
After messing about with a few bobby-pins and wrinkling her nose at the fact that her hair scarcely reached chin-length, she turned her attention to her violin and equipment. Well, equipment was making things out to be fancier than they were. She'd snagged a few essentials from the kitchen and jury rigged a drum-set out of spoons and dishes. After recording a track for the beat, she uploaded it to her 'boom-box' and set off.
To borrow the words of Frank, Jane had brought everything but the kitchen sink to her gig. The young woman was practically buzzing with excitement. She spearheaded the charge across the station, a wagon full of mysteries in tow.
Their destination turned out to be a seedy little joint in the Kenzo District. Then again, if there was an upstanding establishment on Omega, Garrus had yet to see it. Every place was a den of inequity. He was trying to change things, but there were days it felt like he was a mere breeze flailing against a mountain.
"This table looks good." Krul announced. He may have successfully bullied his way out of the hospital but, according to Mordin, the wheelchair wasn't up for debate. Nalah pushed him to the table's edge. And Jane immediately sat down at the booth, pulled her violin out of its case, and set the tuning program on her omni-tool.
Weaver had opted to stay home for his weekly family call. Mierin was in one of his moods, which meant the man wouldn't be leaving base unless there was a mission. And Sensat was busy developing some new explosive tech. That was fine by her. Honestly, she only needed one person to come. But nearly everyone decided to tag along. Jane was flattered. Each member of The Archangel team had been unbelievably kind. It wasn't something she was accustomed to.
When the time came, she opened with an energetic ditty before leveling things off with a slow-paced romantic piece. Frank took Nalah's hand and they danced cheek to cheek. It was adorably tender. And she found herself swaying to their rhythm along with her own notes.
A few patrons gathered snapping their fingers to the beat, clapping in-between songs. And when intermission came, she wasted no time hawking a few audio-books. After selling 132 creds worth, the frosty lemonade she'd ordered was practically calling to her. Thirty minutes of intermission remained. Then, the dinner rush would hit and she'd back on-stage. Frank introduced her to the yellow substance a few weeks back, and it promptly became her favorite drink. It was tart, sweet, and made her mind race with dreamy thoughts. A 'sugar rush' is what he called it.
Krul was in his own world, eyes closed. He was easily drained and had spent the past few hours swaying in his chair to the music. Frank and Nalah had taken a break from dancing and were working on polishing off a steak they'd ordered. Garrus was at the bar, chatting with a female turian or at least trying to. Okanna's ass. She may not know the first thing about courtship but Jane was fairly certain it wasn't supposed to sound like this.
"I mean, I'm one of the biggest, baddest mercs around." Garrus's voice carried across the floor.
"I see." The woman was clearly losing interest. One didn't need to be proficient on female turians to see that. Although, she was quickly realizing that Garrus was anything but an expert.
Ripper's head jolted forward, spraying beer down his chin. His shirt, (SlAyEr REIGN IN BLOOD) was soaked.
Nalah swiftly kicked the curly-haired dumb ass under the table. "Be nice!"
"This. Is. Glorious."
"Shut up!" Jane hissed, before turning to make certain Garrus was still preoccupied with their waitress and hadn't overheard.
"I… can't."
"… My skills rival the toughest bounty hunters out there." Garrus took a step towards the woman with his beer outstretched as if he intended to make a toast. "In fact, I have this big gun I want to show you."
Ripper made a strangled sound, head in his hands, futilely trying to cover up his laughter.
Jane turned to him. "I will actually hurt you if you don't shut up."
"I'm trying." His voice was high pitched, tears streamed down his face.
"There will be nowhere you can go, no where you can hide. I'll put itching powder day and night in your bed and slugs in your boots."
"You's… you's m-m-making it worrse."
The strain of laughing so hard while trying to remain silent was taking its toll. Ripper's face turned a ruddy color as a red flush battled against his swarthy skin. He gasped for breath.
"Wait, I think he's coming back. Fix your damn face!"
Nalah grabbed some ice water and splashed it on him. "HEY!" It may not have been well received, but it certainly got the job done.
When Garrus arrived, the sight of Ripper's dripping scowl catching his eye, Nalah coolly offered up an explanation. "Just sobering up you rambunctious boys."
Damn. She was better at lying than one would think.
"Right. Well, I have some great ideas for the sniper's perch. What if we installed a cannon? I mean, those casino creds won't spend themselves." Garrus scooted in and immediately began drawing diagrams on a napkin.
Not trusting herself to keep a lid on the giggling fits, Jane immediately scurried back to the stage. Tensing and flexing her fingers to the tune of Bad Guy, Havanna, and several other upbeat songs, she played into the wee hours of the morning.
Upon finishing, Veoslia, one of the owners, strode over. "Damn girl. Remind me to hire you again."
Jane smiled. "Well, you have my number."
"Hell yes. Next time, I'm going to advertise. Get this place off its ass!"
Hair was clinging to the sides of her face, slick with sweat. It'd be a mistake to try and clean her violin like this. Once Veoslia transferred the credits, she placed it in the case, left it with the squad, and scurried off the restroom.
The unmistakable sound of footsteps emerged when she turned the corner. She recognized the pattern without so much as turning her head. Human. Male.
"Hey sugar."
Her head whipped in the direction of the taunt. Tall but thin. A wisp of a man, really. Matted hair parted to reveal a ragged face, missing teeth. Drugs probably. She could get the jump on him, kick him right in the balls. Although, she wasn't certain what one was supposed to…
Nalah's hand suddenly cupped her shoulder, jolting her from her thoughts. "I don't think she's interested."
She could feel Garrus lurking behind her, a growl in his throat.
"What can I say." The man stepped forward. "I like the way you move."
This was a fool. Eyeing his bare neck, she fingered the dagger clasped against her belt. Leaping forward and slitting his throat would be child's play. The only thing stopping her was the fact that she was fairly certain such a mess would lead to her being kicked out. And she wanted to work at this particular establishment again. She liked the place. It had flavor.
Garrus's hulking form suddenly stepped in front of her. "Alright buddy. That's enough. You're outta here."
As Garrus half-lead, half-dragged the moron out, Nalah turned to her. "Honey, we were right over there! Why didn't you open your com? We'd have gotten here much sooner."
"It was one guy." She shrugged. "Besides, I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. Polite society right?"
"You are on Omega. This is not The Citadel or polite society. Goodness, I should've thought of this. When we get home, you and I are going to have a talk."
Nalah took her by the hand and lead her back to the table. And Jane chose to remain silent, not sharing how easily it would've been to cut his jugular. Nalah looked at her and saw an innocent child, something to protect. Whenever the woman laid a soft, gentle hand on her, it took everything not to try and cocoon herself within the woman's grace. Was this what her own mother had been like? Was it so wrong to want it to continue? Even if it was just for a little while.
She was anything but innocent.
