Chapter 14
Garrus
November 9th, 2190
I sat against the bed's headboard, scanning over some datapads when Amelia noisily entered the room. "Hey, Amatra," I said, setting the datapad on the bedside table as Amelia clomped into the room, "How was it?"
"An abject failure," She huffed, tearing the heeled shoes off her feet and tossing them haphazardly towards the closet. I stifled a chuckle, interested in hearing how the night failed so spectacularly. Amelia aggressively pulled off her dress, a tight, black number with very little fabric that left nothing to the imagination, and threw it towards the closet as well, followed closely by her bra.
Retrieving one of my workout shirts, she climbed into bed and slipped it on, leaning up against the headboard next to me, her arms crossed in evident frustration. "Explain to me how I, a very clearly mated woman, who wore my husband's clan paint and proudly displayed his mark, am the only one to get hit on at the club?"
"Wait… what?" I started, feeling my territory encroached upon.
"Gah! I dragged Miranda there with the express purpose of getting her laid, and I'm the only one that got hit on! Like c'mon, I know turians aren't blind! Miranda is hot as fuck! How…" She threw her hands up dramatically.
"Rewind for a second," I said, "You got hit on?" I bristled for a moment before deciding that I had nothing to be jealous over and that the guy probably paid dearly for his error.
"Yea…?"
"And what happened?"
"I pinned him against the bar and almost twisted his arm out of socket after he grabbed me."
"Oh good, I don't have to go to the morgue then," I prodded, extracting a halfhearted snort and an eye roll from her.
Anger abated by the joke, she gave me a peck on the cheek plate, "My failure ass is going to sleep. Goodnight."
"I'd say your ass was pretty successful, actually…," I joked, giving it a light smack.