NSFW
Chapter 4
The house had a sober feel to it….Ironic, since all she did was get drunk and make her way home every night, crawling or stumbling. It didn't smell like booze or the sweet smell of the auto shop….It smelled like her….Distinctly the woman he had helped guard on her way home every year since he first saw her in '88, and as he held open the door, he would remember the change that came over him….He felt like he had stepped into a secret, and it unnerved him. "Commander," his voice was too soft—He cleared it, "….Commander Shepard?…." He listened, "….It's…." Who was he….Who was he—The "guy from the bar", the "mechanic of the shop that had made her spare key"?….Who the hell was he to her….Walking into her house as he was….He repeated her name, louder, because he doubted she knew his.
From the back of the house, his sharper hearing picked up movement in the other rooms.
The linoleum of the kitchen floor stuck and unstuck from his boots, the place lived-in but not cared for. The floor was covered in dust, food crumbs, and grease. It was dirty, but standard for poor living.
Crossing through the kitchen left of the entrance hallway, he came seeking for the bumps he heard more of coming from the doorframe to the next room—and found on a thick, worn-down carpet, the woman he had been watching every year, every trip to the bar, now in seizures on top of it.
Her eyes were open, mouth open, too, in a frozen scream as she convulsed.
Without much thought of whether it was right or wrong, or if it would help, he got down on his hands and knees and picked her up, holding the seizing woman to him, keeping her head tight to his chest as she shook violently into him.
A bottle of Moonshine was on its side on the carpet nearby, unopened, liquor trembling inside it from her vibrations through the floor.
He sat with his legs aside him, holding her for who knew how long….She continued to shake violently, his whole body tense from restraining her.
Eventually the shuddering stopped, and he felt her go very still and limp….Moving her gently out from him, his hands secure about her arm and head, he peered at her face—Her eyes were closed, but she was breathing.
"Commander."
Her lips parted, "….Liquor….liquor bottle….please." He looked at the bottle on its side by them on the carpet, and reluctantly, he holding her with one arm, reaching with the other picked up the bottle by its width and brought it to her shoulder where his hand lifted to help unscrew the cap….She had function of her arms, and was able to hold the fat bottle as, between his hand and her own pair, she proceeded to drink the entire bottle in long, thirsty "chugs"….He withheld his laugh….After all that.
"You've been like this?….For how long?"
"Fucking….ever."
"The alcohol—"
"Helps…." She spoke between swallows.
"So it's….been getting worse…."
"How'd you….tell," her voice was low and husky, and he couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. "What made….you come…?"
"You have a friend, supposedly, in town….I came here to get you since….I've been the only one for a while now," he took the bottle from her hands and set it down, "….He claims you served with him in the war."
"I….think I know who it is."
"His name's Kaidan Alenko."
"Yep," she pulled in a breath and ran her palm over her face, "….I know him….Is he hanging around outside?"
"At Verne's….I told him to stay there."
"Good."
"You want me to tell him to come here?"
"No," she pressed her hand onto the carpet and started to move herself off him, "….I just need to clean myself up," she was wearing only a pair of sweatpants and a tee-shirt, "….help myself into a shower." He stood up and offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet when she saw and took it, "….I'll go down there and meet him afterwards…."
"I'll walk with you. If you're able to walk," he looked down into her face, skeptical, and he could smell the harsh alcohol on her breath….She's only just had a seizure….She should be laying down, not going back to the bar, "….Do you need a carry….or even better, a ride to a doctor for a medical opinion?"
She looked up at him, "….I can walk….Thanks….And I don't need a medical opinion….They'll not know what to make of me anyway."
He let her go towards the alternate exit from the room, which let her out into the hallway that connected to the front door, and she uneasily made her way to another door across the hall, opened it as he looked around to find somewhere to place himself while she climbed the staircase revealed through the opening to reach the next floor….He looked up at her ascending the stairs, "….You sure you'll be okay?"
"I'm….I'm going to get up there," she was annoyed, "….Stop rushing me," she paused on the middle stairs and turned her face down towards him, "….I don't know your name—"
"Casnar."
"Casnar?….Right, Casnar….Thanks…." She resumed climbing the wooden steps.
"I'll go to Verne's—"
"Stay….I didn't mean….Just stay…." She stopped again, made sure he didn't move from his place by the doorframe, and went the rest of the way to the floor above.
He stayed put like she asked….Commanded, more like….A few seconds went by and then he heard water rattling the pipes through the wall. While the shower had begun, he gazed about, studying the peels of paint on the ceiling, and thick overcoatings from years of added layers to the doorframes and walls. He gazed down the hallway to the front door, and went to close and secure it. This place needs some tender loving care….He was somewhat appalled at how she lived….Maybe now they were on talking terms, he might ask to help her bring the place out of its sad condition with an overhaul.
He returned to the opposite end of the hallway, looking at the boards in the wall and stopping to inspect the doorway and stairs leading to the second level. Looking up the staircase, seeing all the scuffs and memorizing what should be ripped up and replaced, he glanced at the ceiling above through the opening of the stairs, and looked again with some hesitation….He narrowed his eyes.
His eyes then widened at what he thought was the ceiling….He wasn't sure, but he thought he was looking at one painting up above….The "mural" was in fact composed of multiple paintings. What is that….Wanting a closer look, he widened the door for his frame to enter through and tested the first step with his weight….He didn't think she would hear him, what with the hiss and rattle of the water pipes concealing his creak—until he heard the wood sound louder than he was comfortable with. Grasping the railing screwed by brackets into the wall, he tried easing his weight off the first step to lessen the noise, and it even complained at his load leaving it….Casnar attempted the second step, bypassing the first in hope that would be less plaintive….The second was found to be so….He set his weight onto the third….Moving to the fourth, his view of the ceiling expanded….He could make out the smaller details. He went up then as far as he needed to see the whole of the angled ceiling, combined of its entire panoply of designs. He gaped from the sight of the intricate detailing, both sketched and colored….Emerging from the entry in the floor, he turned, eyes drinking what had been created in this place hidden out of sight.
They were scenes from a city, sky black and sky blue, or rippling with the colors of sunset and dawn….The city's dominant color was greyish-silver, and she had captured details of trees and gardens, people dressed in other colors, creatures and beings he had seen and not before….Skyrunners, too, he believed by how these were painted in between the buildings and alleys. All this crammed into the ceiling panels, and the walls, overlapping corners, onto the floor….This was her imagination, or someone else's….? The details in the brushwork….parts were messy while others extraordinarily painted down to the clothes….The entire studio-loft was covered, the windows and furniture and the stand-up shower left alone.
He came out of the stairwell, fully into her bedroom. The water in the shower turned off.
Pushing the curtain aside, she stopped from fully emerging, seeing him there gaping at the "fresco" she had made and walking around to study it….He paid no attention to the fact she was there, "….By Kala, this is—"
"Weird….Intense?"
"Hey," he suddenly was aware of her again, "….sorry," she was standing behind the curtain of the shower, watching him as he looked to the staircase, "….I shouldn't—"
"Wait…." She glanced down in thought, gave a shrug of her shoulder, pushed the curtain out of her way as she stepped over the stand-up's retainer wall, "….It's not like you've seen me in less compromising situations—"
"Drunk and crawling home isn't usually…." He turned, saw her approaching, "….You were clothed….It's different," he leaned backwards as she stepped to him and stopped inches away, "….What can I—Did you need—" She lifted the heels of her feet, balancing on the balls and her toes, moving towards his lips with hers, "….No," he tilted his head back, away from her face, and stepped backwards.
"What is it," her eyes were open, grey irises sharp to him, "….not what you want?"
"I….I don't think we're—"
"Supposed to do this?….You have the key to my house, walk me to and from the bar like I'm yours, a prize to watch over….What do you want, Casnar….You said your name was Casnar."
To say it was more than compromising was an understatement, he nodding as she dripped from her skin onto the carpet, the paintings on the floor boards underfoot, her short, black hair slicked back, dropping water from the shower still onto her back, her shoulders, dribbling down over and between her breasts….He was aware of the noise of the waterdrops falling from her fingers, off the curve of her chin.
She stepped away from him, turning to retrieve her towel from over the shower bar, and barely abashed by her nakedness in front of him….They were familiar in a distant way, and being there in her bedroom-loft-studio, after a shower, the woman tempting him….might prove too much for a lesser man….or Drell. Her feet left wet prints as she walked away, body tight and curves but athletic….Casnar had a vision of a woman standing there, her dark silhouette of back made lighter by the windows ahead of her form, casting silver fingers over her curves framed in the view of the crater beyond the glass….The windows caused her silhouette to burn into his eyes, and the way she walked, bent, dried herself, bare before him….The dampness in that room, the cooler air, made him remember—and he near solip'ed into Drell memory….This place, this scene unfolding before him made him feel lonely, intimate with her, and sentimental….The crater was empty, and ironically, she was filling it in his gaze….Casnar began to feel miserable.
"You should get dressed," he wet his lips and turned to the stairs.
She pulled a second towel from over the shower bar atop the installation, reaching up and lengthening her body, lifting her right breast in her stretch….Casnar caught a glimpse of the artful pose as he went down the stairs, having glanced again and just at the perfect moment.
He grimaced at himself, knowing the seduction at play, pausing with his boot out over the next step and gazing distractedly about the staircase walls. His eyes set on the exit below, and he lowered his boot to contact that next step.
He made it to the halfway point, eight stairs to go….He stopped, hand on the railing.
Am I a "lesser" man….He could remember how long it had been since he had sex with a woman….Am I a "lesser" man….She was right there, welcoming him….Am I a "lesser" man….? He turned his eyes up at the ceiling, saw her movements faintly recreated in shadow on the wall.
"I'm a lesser man," and he turned and went back into the loft, unbuckling his overalls, dropping these on the floor as he stepped out of them, pulled off his cap, shirt, and kicked off his boots….He made his way into the shower for a quick cleaning of the "shop" off him before she could ask what he was doing.
She lowered the towel from her hair, the other falling from her breasts as she leaned over to stare at him cleaning himself rapidly in the shower, and when he was done and turned the water off, he stepped out, quick and dripping, "….Do you have—" She hooked the towel around his neck and pulled him towards her turning face….He lingered there before her mouth, the cusp of this next step, her nose pointing up to his, "….Are you sure about this?"
"You're never sure about anything," he heard her whisper, "….That's something I learned from service, Casnar," she blew on his lips, his tongue darting out to taste her breath, "….You nervous?….Have you not slept with a human before?"
He nodded, but then shook his head, "….Asari don't count, do they."
She smiled, "….No." Her grey eyes slowly shuttered her black lashes, not all the way but enough for him to see the freckles appearing on her eyelids as she moved closer for the kill, Casnar waiting for the first caress of her soft lip….The taut nipples of her breasts poked into his golden, damp pecs before the ensuing soft and memorable spread of warmth from her globes followed….Her thigh brushed against his….His body reacted.
Her hands dropped the towel, sliding it from his neck to replace with her fingers over his traps….Casnar's eyelids drew together as she pulled on his lower lip with her own mouth closing on this….His hand slid up the middle of her back, trailing his golden fingers over the canals of her spine, damp, warm, and long.
