"Are you kidding me, Grak?"
Marcella's hands slammed on the counter. Her rifle sat on top, as beautiful as ever, until the krogan's thick fingers wrapped around it and slid it toward him. It emanated a high-pitched screech as it scraped across the rusty metal counter.
"No bounty, no gun." he growled.
Marcella clenched her jaw and scratched her talons noisily across the metal. Grak's tiny shop was made even more so by the amount of weaponry that was crammed onto every wall and into every crate. Even its low ceiling had draped nets full of crude swords and maces. Every time she came in it seemed like he accrued more and more.
Grak liked to buy or salvage weapons for cheap, then jack up the price by an obscene amount, making them almost impossible for the average customer to buy. He lent them out for a fee, making more expensive weapons obtainable, but forcing the lender to ultimately pay more money for something they could never truly own. Not to mention his connections to cutthroats more than willing to make debtors who didn't follow the rules disappear. His stinginess was unbearable.
"It wasn't my fault," She sneered, "there was a co..."
She hesitated as the face of that stubborn cop resurfaced in her mind. It was a few days ago but she could still see him perfectly in her mind's eye. Dark eyes, broad face, blue markings. What was his name again? Vakros? Vakrin? He could have turned her in and yet…
"...complication."
"I don't wanna hear it." Grak rolled his large shoulders, snapping his head to the side and releasing a loud crack. "Now, get out of my sight"
"Oh, come on, don't be like that!" She went for a different approach, propping her elbows on the counter, and tried to look chummy. "How about a second chance? For old times?"
"That was your second chance." He turned and hung the rifle on the wall behind him, already full of other confiscated guns. Practically a graveyard.
What a waste.
"It's not gonna earn you any credits by just hanging there—"
"I said I'm done with you." The krogan squared his large shoulders and stared down at her. "Don't push me."
Marcella slammed a fist on the counter, her anger boiling over. "Would need a tank to push you, you big, lumbering, fatheaded—"
Grak thrust his head forward over the counter and smacked her in the nose with his giant forehead.
"Augh!" She fell back, clutching her face as she felt a gush of warm liquid drip down her hands.
"That mouth is gonna get you in big trouble someday. Too bad I probably won't get to see it." He let out a dry cackle and retreated behind the gun-lined wall.
"Bastard…" She hissed. She turned and walked out, pinching her fingers to her bleeding nose.
The door of the shop shut behind her trapping her out into a flat patch of desert, flanked by a few bare hills. The night air was still oppressively hot and dry but of course, as a turian, she didn't mind. The wind kicked up dust and swirled it around her feet as she made the short walk toward Nadir, an old bar that was usually used as a hideout for the locals. Most of Grak's customers were bounty hunters and when they weren't hunting, they were drinking.
A tall repurposed building covered in neon signs advertising defunct services loomed out of the darkness like a beacon for debauchery. The muffled sound of club music could be heard echoing around her as she wiped the remaining blood from her nose and passed under the awning into the dark open doorway.
Repetitive, pounding music accosted her from all sides causing her chest to vibrate. Dust and smoke gathered near the high ceiling, caught in the neon lights that shone from practically every corner. An unassuming eye might think the place was mostly empty. Besides a small group sitting right in the center on some derelict couches, everyone else was huddled in the shadowy corners, conducting deals, selling drugs, or engaging in otherwise shady business. The place was filled with the usual bounty hunters, pirates, mercs, and petty thieves, usually passing through to fuel up and gather intel before moving on to more lucrative planets.
She ambled over to a large booth near the back where the vibrating beats of the music were reverberating from and approached a bored salarian fiddling with a datapad.
"Hey, Bo—"
"No." The salarian frowned and tapped a finger on the screen of his e-book.
She scoffed and rolled her head back onto her shoulders, mouth agape at the ceiling in a dramatic manner. "I didn't even say anything yet—"
"No, Marcella." He held the datapad higher, forming a barrier between them. "Go away."
She exhaled slowly and chewed her tongue. "...Alright." She rapped the counter with a knuckle and wandered farther along the wall to a short round table with no chairs. A few mercs were leaning on it and talking amongst themselves.
"Hey, guys." She tilted her head in greeting.
Two of them averted her eyes, starring off purposely somewhere behind her. The third met her gaze and slowly shook his head.
"Damn…" She turned away and surveyed the room, sizing up every patron in the bar. There was not a single person there she hadn't burned. Except—
"Sulla." She approached a large turian sitting on one of the shabby couches scattered in a circle squarely in the middle of the floor. Sulla was one of the heavy-hitters in the area and one no one cared to cross. Like most, he had various other dealings happening across the planet, but his reputation and connections made him almost untouchable. He carried sway with the other hunters and businesses making him a powerful ally to have if you could get on his good side. As usual, he was flanked by his two lackeys. He was eyeing a dark corner of the bar and didn't look up.
She crossed her arms and leaned back casually on one leg. "I need your help."
A voice behind her answered. "I'll help you, Mar."
A lanky turian with light green markings splashed across his face was laying on the couch behind her, picking his teeth. He was another common face around here and his favorite pastime was being irritating.
"Turkus," She turned to sneer at him. "Do not call me that."
"Hmmm…" He slid out his tongue and spat out a nail. "Where's that rifle you're always carrying? Don't tell me you lost it…"
"Grak is uh, holding it for me. I need some help getting it back." There was no use lying.
"So you're unarmed?" he asked innocently. The look he gave was disconcerting.
She stared him down. Turkus was always all talk and no action, but he had to have had the most punchable face in the galaxy. He and his sister were among the others that hovered around Sulla like flies on a carcass. They could both choke. "I don't need a gun to kill you."
"Both of you shut the fuck up." Sulla had not looked away from the corner. He leaned forward, leering hungrily as though stalking some kind of prey.
Marcella tore her eyes away from Turkus who had started to make a lewd gesture. "The hell is your problem?"
"There's a cop over there." Sulla pointed a finger slowly toward the dark corner he was watching. "Right...there."
Marcella scoffed. "Yeah, right..." But even so, she subtly turned her head to catch a glimpse at the corner.
Standing in the corner under one of the support beams was a law enforcer from one of the nearby outposts trying to fit in. His posture was unnaturally rigid except for his head which swiveled around erratically as though trying to keep an eye on everything at once.
Total amateur.
"...Huh." She glanced back at Sulla "Well, then...what are you gonna do about it?"
He bit his tongue. "What we always do to trespassers."
Marcella took a wary glance around the room. "He might not be alone..."
"Then we need to get him alone."
She shook her head. "Pretty sure when he sees you coming he'll run. No one's that stupid."
Sulla considered. His two cronies leaned in intently, ready to do their master's bidding.
"Listen, here's a deal for you," he said finally, his yellow eyes flashing, "you lead him out back and I'll talk to Grak for you."
Marcella felt a rush of relief. Sulla's reputation was worth more than just intimidation.
But...
"What'll happen to him?" She nodded in the cop's direction.
The look Sulla gave her said it all. "We'll take care of it."
She took another sideways look at the suspicious figure. He was probably some rookie sent out on patrol by a cruel supervisor. That, or he thought he could take on a hideout of thugs by himself. Either way, no one deserved what Sulla was planning on doing to him in the back alley with his team of miscreants. But there was no other alternative. Trying to survive out here without a gun would be suicide. It was that sad little rookie or her.
Poor bastard.
"Fine."
She backed up, readjusting her jacket, and turned toward the corner. She made her way slowly toward the supposed cop's direction, walking and musing inconspicuously as to not draw any attention from him. Halfway across the floor, her feet started to drag. She felt herself deflate, thinking of all the terrible things Sulla and his mooks would do to this poor idiot.
Keep it together. You need that rifle.
Finally, she managed to make it over to the corner, making sure to approach him from behind. He was too fixated on a pair of gamblers arguing over a bad call to notice. She lifted a finger to tap his shoulder and prepared a flirty line.
'Hey, new around here? Why don't you come out back? I have something to show you…'
Her finger hovered inches over his shoulder. Her mandibles twitch nervously.
Do it. You have to.
She noticed a slight movement and glanced down. His leg was slightly trembling. She let out a long sigh and cursed under her breath.
This is why no one trusts you
She slammed her hand hard on his shoulder and felt him tense. "Excuse me, Officer, do you have a death wish?"
The cop whirled around, eyes wide and hands up defensively. He was a few inches shorter than her, but stood up unnaturally straight, accentuating his wide shoulders. His jacket was bright-colored, ugly and loose-fitting, obviously just some civvies he had thrown together in place of a uniform. He had dark eyes and a broad face with a thick blue line across his nose, cheekplates, and mandibles—
Marcella's mouth fell open. "You!"
"Uh...!" The cop froze, eyes wide in unblinking shock.
She threw her hands up in disbelief. "What are you doing here?!"
"Mar—" He snapped his jaw shut and cleared his throat noisily. "I mean, Miss Khatirus…!"
Her eyes lit up and she felt the shock ebb away into something warm. "You...remembered!"
"Well, of course!" He had clasped his hands together and rubbed them nervously. "How could I forget?"
A light feeling was thrumming in her chest. He seemed actually happy to see her this time, the stern face reminiscent of their last meeting was gone and he seemed relaxed and almost...pleased? He was still as cute as she remembered. Even his stance, the way his hands were constantly fidgeting, awkward but earnest and well-meaning. The fact that he had stood up for her...a rare kindness in her line of work. It was odd, she never thought she'd see him again, and yet having him in front of her now made her feel a kind of happiness she hadn't felt in a long time. She felt herself unconsciously reaching for his hand.
Oh no.
The light feeling immediately died and a cold shock of panic zapped its way up her spine as reality set back in. She felt the eyes of Sulla and his ugly gang, watching them and waiting to make their move.
Now it was her turn to freeze. "No, no, no...!" She muttered, eliciting a confused look from the officer. She clenched her jaw as wild ideas ran rampant in her head. She had to get him out of there.
Think. Think!
There was only one thing to do. She gave him an apologetic look.
"Sorry about this—"
Suddenly, she stepped forward, closing the gap between them. She seized his hands and pulled them past her waist, tugging his head forward until their foreheads bumped together.
"Oh, it's you!" She shouted loud enough for the whole bar to hear. "You came to see me!"
"Wha-!?" The officer's face was contorted in horror at the sudden intimacy. He sputtered and shook. "Wha...what are you-!?"
She nuzzled against his cheekplate and whispered in his ear. "You are in serious danger."
She grabbed his shoulders and spun him until his back was to Sulla and his gang, then pulled him into a hug. She peered over his shoulder at them, flattened her hand, and made a swiping motion at her neck.
False alarm.
"Come! Buy me a drink!" She led his shivering form across the room over to the bar, a sea of eyes staring from the shadows.
"Bartender!" She motioned to an annoyed-looking batarian leaning on the counter." Two of my usual please!" Her voice rang across the room.
The bartender stared. "I don't know what your 'usual' is—"
She leaned in closer and growled. "I don't care, Thok! Just give me anything!"
He rolled his multiple eyes and grabbed the closest bottle and 2 greasy cups. He poured a blue liquid messily into both of them. Marcella swiped them up, immediately splashed one of them into her mouth. She turned to the cop and thrust a drink into his hand.
"I'm so glad you could make it out!" She was still speaking more to the room than to him. "I missed you so much, Officer...uh…..."
She paused, lowering her voice to a whisper. "What was your name again…?"
He stared at his glass, nervously sloshing the liquid. "…Vakarian."
"Right!" She gave herself a light smack on the forehead. "Of course. Officer Vakarian."
He looked up and they locked eyes for just a moment. His eyes were a dark purple, it reminded her of the violet glow of the night sky. She felt the light feeling again.
She shook the feeling away. "Look, you really shouldn't be here." She leaned in and touched him lightly on the shoulder, keeping her voice low. "This is no place for a stake-out. Everyone here would love nothing better than to beat the shit out of you and then display your body outside as a warning. Dark clouds come to swallow your stars, do you understand?"
The officer blinked at her in confusion. "'Dark clouds'…?"
"Yes! You need to pretend you're with me and try to fit in." Marcella leaned past him to catch a glimpse at the exit.
"Just follow me and maybe we can sneak out the…"
A figure was standing in the doorway, haloed in the neon light from outside. She could just barely make out a face, staring straight at them and grinning sinisterly. It was Turkus.
"Shit!" She blurted. They were not gonna make this easy.
The officer jumped, spilling some of the drink on his ill-fitting jacket. "What? What happened?"
"I...hate this song!" She yelled, whirling on him with false indignation. She grabbed his wrist and began pulling him toward the DJ booth. "We're changing it right now!"
"Wait—" He stumbled as she pulled, still gripping the mostly-full glass in both hands.
"Drink it!" She hissed.
He stiffened at the order and downed his drink obediently, finishing with a shudder.
"Come on!" She yelled, yanking at his wrist. "Bodi can hook us up!" She pointed at the salarian in the booth who had looked up at the noise and caught her eye. He started gesturing wildly that whatever she was doing he didn't want to be a part of it.
The cops' nerves seemed to alleviate slightly. "A salarian? Here?"
"Oh yeah, Bodi tried to play bounty hunter." They were almost halfway across the dance floor and Bodi was bracing himself for their presence.
"I've...never actually met one before." Vakarian admitted, "Do salarians make good bounty hunters?"
Marcella scoffed. "Well, he's here playing shitty techno so you tell me—"
"Oh, hello."
A short female had stepped directly in front of them almost causing Marcella to stumble. One of her mandibles was partially torn off, showing a half-face full of teeth.
"Who's this? New guy?" She squeezed between them, shoving Marcella roughly with her elbow and sliding up uncomfortably close to the officer. "You're kinda cute. What's your name?"
Marcella clenched her jaw and slowly inhaled between her teeth. Turkus's equally annoying sister. He must have sent her to come sniffing.
"Careful, Pyra," Marcella's subvocals rumbled a warning. "You know what happens when you try to take what's mine."
Pyra slowly turned toward her and bared her already exposed teeth. "Marcella. Am I supposed to believe you're with this guy?"
"Well, obviously." She placed a hand on his waist and felt him shudder. "Officer Vakarian and I have a long history." She flexed her mandibles and exposed a few sharp teeth of her own.
"Oh?" Pyra looked from his face to hers, studying them both carefully. "Okay, what's his first name?"
SHIT.
"Ah...well..." Marcella blinked nervously and readjusted her grip on his waist. "You see….he..."
Prya crossed her arms, smugness radiating throughout her body.
Marcella paused then gave a soft chuckle. "Huh…I didn't know you had a thing for men in uniform..."
Pyra let out a harsh laugh "Don't change the subje—"
"Is that why I saw you talking to that patrol the other day?"
Her laugh died in her throat. "...What?"
"You were talking to them for a while. I could only catch a bit. Something about a guy named..." Marcella eyed her meaningfully. "...Markus?"
Pyra stiffened, her eyes bulging out of her head.
"Yeah, and...something about...a stolen shipment?" She tilted her head and placed a finger on her chin. "Hm, you know, I think I actually know a guy named Markus, do you think it's the same person?"
Pyra opened her mouth but only a pained gurgling sound seemed to escape it.
Marcella put her hand to her mouth, eyes gazing at the ceiling in mock contemplation. "Should I say something to him? If it involves him it's probably something he should know—"
"Shut it!" Pyra snapped, her face angry and open and full of teeth.
"So, are you saying...I should perhaps..." Marcella lowered her hand slowly and locked eyes with her, "...mind my own business?"
She slid a hand up Vakarian's arm and wrapped it around his bicep. She gave it a quick squeeze, a subtle attempt at a warning.
I'm really sorry about this.
Without breaking eye contact with Pyra, she slowly leaned into the cop's neck and placed her mouth onto the side of his throat. In one steady motion, she stuck out her tongue and licked the side of his neck up to the base of his jaw.
To his credit, he didn't flinch.
An angry sound escaped Prya's teeth, but she backed off and turned to slink back from whatever dark corner she came from. Marcella pulled away and gave Vakarian an apologetic look.
"Sorry about that. I had to really sell it." Her mandibles flicked mischievously. "She didn't seem like your type anyway."
Judging by the look he was giving her, he didn't feel too broken up about it.
The light feeling returned.
Castis was reeling.
He didn't drink alcohol, he didn't like the taste or the way it clouded his head. He tried to keep himself focused, tried to keep his feet steady, but was failing miserably. Between the drink, the noise, and all the excitement it was almost too much. Panic flared in the back of his mind every time some new realization reared its ugly head.
I should not have come here. I'm in too deep. I'm a fool and I'm going to get myself killed.
Anxiety ebbed and flowed inside him like waves on a shore. Every time he felt a wave rise, threatening to pull him under he would look at her and—
"Don't worry," Marcella smiled and gave his hand a light squeeze. "You're doing great."
—the wave would shrink, lap at his shoulders, and gently pass through him.
"Alright, Bodi!" She had dragged him the rest of the way across the floor and was now accosting the agitated salarian sitting at the booth. "Play that song! You know, with the, the one that goes..." She waved her hands at him, as though trying to coax the name out of him,"...you know, the one I always ask for, come on, you know!"
Bodi scrunched his face in disgust. "I'm not playing that song again you keep—"
She pounded a fist on the table. "Play the fucking SONG!"
He yelped in fear, whirled over to a panel of bright-colored buttons, and started pushing them frantically.
The song transitioned to a softer beat accompanied by some light melody and a voice singing about love or rhythm or something else vague. Castis closed his eyes and attempted to bob his head rhythmically. He didn't care much for music and he was no dancer, but the alcohol was really taking hold now and he felt himself start to get into it a little. Maybe this wasn't so bad. See? He could be 'fun' when he wanted to be. Surely she'll be impressed by how easy-going he is. Maybe he could even take her on a real outing and they wouldn't even have to worry about being murdered—
He felt Marcella's hands grab his shoulders and he gasped, snapping his eyes open again.
"Just follow me." She gave his shoulders a light squeeze and trailed her hands down his arms, making him shudder. She reached his hand and her talon clinked on the empty glass he was still holding.
"...Why do you still have this?"
He gulped. "I...didn't have anywhere to set it down—"
"Focus! 'Dark clouds', remember?!" She shook his wrist violently in an attempt to loosen his grip. "Just - drop it —!"
"No!" He clutched the glass to his chest protectively. "Someone could step on it and trip or - or it could break and then it - it cuts - !" He felt himself getting emotional.
Spirits, this is why I don't drink.
"Okay, okay!" Her hands went up defensively. "Look, how about you just give me the cup and I'll give it to Bodi, okay? Bodi will put it away. Is that alright?" She gave him an empathetic pat on the shoulder.
"...Yeah." Castis held out the glass and dropped it into her hands feeling incredibly foolish.
She held it over her head. "Bodi! Heads up!" She tossed the cup in an arc behind him. He heard the tinkle of breaking glass and a high-pitched scream that sounded distinctly salarian.
"There, done." She put her hands on the sides of his face. "Now just relax. Sway with me, like this." She slid her hands down to his shoulders and started to rock her hips back and forth to the beat.
Castis took a deep breath and tried to quiet his anxious mind. The music continued to pulse, resonating with his own heartbeat. He obeyed her and began to slightly sway his hips. Despite the haze from the alcohol, he still felt a little ridiculous.
She gave a wary glance around the room. "Closer." She ordered.
He shuffled forward awkwardly and hovered his hands over her body, not sure where to put them.
"Uh…"
She quickly placed his hands on her waist and put her own hands back on his shoulders sliding them forward to lightly brush the back of his neck with her claws. He twitched instinctively.
"Sorry." She gave him an apologetic look. "I know this is…a lot, but it's gotta be convincing." She leaned forward toward his neck, causing him to gasp.
"Don't worry, I won't - " She snorted, holding back a laugh, "- I promise I won't lick you again." She leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder. The warm weight of her body made him shiver.
"Relax." She chuckled. "Just pretend you like me."
He exhaled slowly and allowed himself to rest his cheekplate against her head. There was no need to pretend.
"That's it..." Her hands went to his waist, moving him to sway along with her.
Castis felt like he could melt into the floor. In truth, he had very few experiences with dancing, all equally unpleasant, and had come to the conclusion that it was terrible and not worth enjoying. Just another thing to avoid, among all the others he had failed at immediately and thus, given up entirely. Dancing wasn't an important skill to have no matter what Fedorian said. But this…
He swayed, moving along with her hands, his body melting into hers.
Maybe I could enjoy dancing.
"Alright, ready?" She turned suddenly and whispered excitedly in his ear. "When I give the word, we break away and when the beat drops, I want you to see you really dance."
"You...what? Drop? Beats can drop?" The relaxing haze had evaporated and was replaced with sudden terror.
She could barely contain her amusement. "Wait for it…!"
Suddenly, he sensed it. The beat had become faster and more intense, obviously about to ramp up to something.
"Nonono - !" He started to panic. "I didn't agree to—"
"Ready…!" She was bouncing on her toes.
"No! I have never been nor will ever be ready—"
"Go!"
The music had crescendoed, erupting into a loud culmination of melody and bass, thumping and singing. Marcella jumped back, releasing him from the safety of her embrace, and started performing a dizzying array of movements.
Castis froze, completely lost. He made a sad attempt to copy her moves but her speed made it impossible. Arms waggling limply, feet shuffling clumsily. His brain was screaming in panic.
I NO LONGER ENJOY DANCING.
The music was so loud. Everyone was probably staring. The wave of anxiety was back, higher than ever, rolling into a crest. It bore down over him, a wall of water, powerless in its shadow. He was going to drown.
Marcella noticed him floundering and danced over in a bid to save him.
"Stop trying so hard!" She shouted over the song. "Just feel it!"
"I feel like an IDIOT!" Heat rose in his face. The urge to flee was overwhelming. He looked around frantically as if for a nearby hole he could crawl into and die.
"Come on!" She panted. "Dancing is about letting go. No one's watching you—"
He lowered his voice, "You said this whole bar was watching me!"
"Not your dance moves, you tu'vra!" She pulled his arms, spinning him around. "Look, whose opinion do you care about more, theirs?" She jutted her chin at the direction of the crowd then turned back toward him, eyes narrowed. "Or mine?"
Again, the wave shrunk and broke gently upon his body. He would try.
For her.
The music was practically boring into his skull. He squeezed his eyes shut and started bobbing his head. Then, he started tapping his toes. He gyrated his hips. He pumped a fist in the air. He even threw in a half-hearted 'woo'.
It was no use. "This is so embarrassing."
Marcella scoffed and shook her head, still moving to the song. "You know what's really embarrassing?" She leaned in, her subharmonics rumbling flatly. "Being carried the entire way to your little fort like a child."
"...Oh." He felt his insides curdle. "I didn't...but you were…!"
"Which reminds me." Her mandibles twitched eagerly and a sultry look crossed her face. She lifted a finger and traced it down his chest and around to his side. Castis felt a tingle go up his spine.
"I - I..!"
Suddenly he felt one of her claws jab him in the side.
"Ow!" He yelped. "Why-!?"
"That," She grinned wickedly. "Is for making me walk—"
"Hey!" He yelled as she poked him again.
"— all the way back —"
"OW!"
"—to get my cycle!"
A spark of irritation gave him an ounce of courage. "Well, maybe," He wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides, and lifted her off her feet. "you shouldn't have kicked me in the face!"
"Hey-!" Her smile faded and her eyes went wide in surprise. He felt her body tense.
"Oh, damn -" Castis set her down immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to scare—"
"No, do it again!" Her eyes flashed with excitement and she bounced on her toes again. "But this time, spin me around!"
"Uh, okay!" He grabbed her waist and lifted her into the air while pivoting into a spin.
"Yeah!" Her hands clutched his shoulders and she threw her head back. "Faster!"
He turned in a tighter circle and felt the alcohol in his stomach slosh around.
Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up.
He set her back down but continued to hold onto her waist for support. His feet were wobbly but his head felt a strange euphoria. The room teetered in a way that resonated with his dizziness.
"This is...kind of fun..." He panted.
"Told you." She gave him a wink then suddenly moved toward his waist. "Okay, your turn—!"
"NO!" He grabbed her wrists and held them in an iron grip.
She threw her head back and laughed. "I'm kidding!"
"...Ah. Right." A nervous chuckle escaped him. He softened his grip but didn't let go.
She gave him another wink and lifted his hand, twirling herself underneath it. The music continued to pulse and she continued to move on beat. Her head bobbed and her hips moved, never losing the rhythm. She pulled and pushed his hands, guiding him through simple movements. Every time he locked eyes with her he felt his chest thump harder. Any independent movement on his part was met with encouraging looks which only fueled his confidence. At one point he managed the courage to even twirl her on her own.
She gave him a sly glance. "Now you're getting it."
He felt his heart tug. "Yeah." He allowed himself to smile. "I wish this was…"
Real.
"Hm?"
"Ah...mm." He clenched his jaw.
He understood the act. Understood that this was all pretend. When, or if, they actually made it out alive he would never actually dance with her again. She wouldn't grab his hand or tell him it's going to be okay. He probably wouldn't ever see her again. The thought turned the wave into a sinkhole, the water thickened into mud that pulled at his limbs. He felt himself sink and he didn't bother to struggle. He had to accept it.
"You know, Pyra had a point." She said, snapping him out of his proverbial bog.
"Huh?"
"I don't know your first name."
"Oh...yeah." It was true, and now he felt a little unsettled. The thought of giving her the privilege of knowing his first name gave him a feeling he couldn't quite describe. "l guess we didn't really get the chance for a formal introduction...
"Well then." She let go of his hands and took a large step back. "Allow me to properly introduce myself."
She leaned into a low bow.
"My name is..." She paused for dramatic effect. "Marcella Khatirus." She looked up, mandibles flicking and crinkled her nose. "As you so kindly remembered. And you are..?"
He smiled back in spite of himself.
"I'm…" A strange feeling welled in his chest, as though he was about to take a plunge into a dark body of water. "...Castis Vakarian."
Her mandibles flicked revealing a smile and her eyes narrowed. She seemed to study him, eyes roving over his face as if seeing him properly for the first time.
"Castis." She breathed.
A jolt shot up his spine that exploded in his head, raining down warmth and settling in his chest. The music, the lights, and the room was all a sluggish alcoholic haze, but this he knew for certain. His name from her mouth was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard.
Slowly, her eyes went from his face to above his head, eyeing something far behind him.
"The door..."
"Hmm?" He stared at her, mesmerized.
"It's clear..." Her voice was still soft.
He followed her gaze and looked over at the exit. Wide-open, a square of bright light in the dark room.
She blinked furiously and clamped her mandibles tight to her mouth. "The door! " She snatched his hand. "We have to go. Now."
Castis also blinked, snapping himself out of his trance. Of course. The threat of imminent death. He had almost forgotten. His whole body jerked as she yanked him toward the exit, head down, pushing anyone even remotely close out of the way.
"Move it." She snarled at a patron who had walked across their path. They returned a look of disdain.
"I swear I've never seen it so crowded," She mumbled seemingly to herself. "How many people are actually here?"
Castis didn't hesitate. "37."
She shot him a quizzical look. "Uh, okay, well we should be good as long as—"
A large figure was suddenly in front of them, apparently waiting in the shadows for just this moment. He was flanked by two apparent underlings holding large guns. Marcella froze, causing Castis to bump painfully into her shoulder.
"Fuuuu…!" An angry sound ground out of her throat. He felt her squeeze his hand painfully.
The figure wasn't especially tall but his very presence seemed to loom over them. His calm demeanor was undoubtedly a mask for something more sinister and violent. The neon lights flashed across his face revealing small black markings around his nose and chin.
"Hi." He said simply. "Going somewhere?"
Castis straightened up, took a few steps forward, and gave the turian his most authoritative stare. Marcella may reduce him to a quivering mess, but he wasn't afraid of any egotistical criminal.
"I'm leaving." His voice demanded respect. "You can go about your business."
"Mm." The turian shook his head slowly, his eyes unblinking. His voice was calm but his subvocals buzzed with an underlying threat. "I don't think so."
"Stop!" Marcella pushed Castis's arm out of the way, forcing him to break his gaze with the criminal. He hadn't even realized he had lifted an arm to shield her.
"Sulla." She addressed the figure. "He's with me."
Sulla's eyes darted to her as though just noticing her presence. The humming of his subvocals grew louder.
"We had a deal—"
"The deal is off!" She snapped.
There was a long pause as Sulla's eyes seemed to pierce through her skull. No emotion so much as flickered across his face.
"I won't forget this." He said finally. He made a slight head motion signaling his cronies to follow him and walked past them and into the dark.
Marcella closed her eyes and let out a long breath she seemed to have been holding. "Damn, that's...everyone." She jammed her fingers into her eyelids and rubbed. "I've officially burned everyone."
"What?" Castis tore his eyes away from the thugs and gazed at Marcella. He fought the urge to touch her shoulder.
"Nothing." She placed her hand on his back and pushed him the rest of the way to the exit, leading him out through the door and into the night.
The night air was a reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere of the bar. Castis took a deep breath and exhaled as though the air could clear out any remaining nerves. He felt her hand leave his back.
"Sorry about all that."
He turned. "It's okay...thank you for..."
"Yeah." She adjusted her jacket collar, a far-off look in her eyes. "Don't come around here anymore. Sulla won't be so... forgiving next time."
"...Right."
There was a long silence between them. The wind whipped around their feet, kicking up specks of sand and swirling it around them both.
"...Well," She gave a curt nod in his direction and turned to leave. "Until next time." He could hear the faintest sound of dismay in her subvocals. A promise they both knew would never be fulfilled.
"Wait."
She hesitated. Normally, Castis would shut his mouth and leave, lingering questions be damned. But he couldn't let her just walk away. Not again.
"What….was that back there?" He asked tentatively. Somehow, he knew he wouldn't like the answer.
"...Ah." The gravel crunched under her boots and she shifted uneasily. "Sulla noticed you and wanted me to...help him out." She averted her eyes in shame. "I could have sold you out for a gun. They took mine away."
"Wait, what?"
"I wouldn't have, even if you weren't—"
"Hold on - you don't have a weapon?" His hands flew together and he squeezed them painfully. Her, in that bar unarmed...!
"I didn't say I didn't have a weapon, I said I didn't have a gun." She gave him a wink that he didn't quite follow. "But, hey, even I'm not good enough to bring anyone in without some decent firepower. Truth is, I owe money to this weapons dealer. I could pay him back if I collect bounties but I can't collect bounties if I don't have the gun so—"
"Oh." Castis clenched his jaw, mind racing. "Maybe...maybe there's something I can…?" He wasn't even thinking about the logistics of what he was saying.
"No way." Her voice was firm. "Grak has his stupid favorites, and his connections and…" She waved her hands dismissively. "He doesn't know you, he wouldn't trust you, and he definitely wouldn't let you out of his sight. Probably just try to distract you with his war stories until he can get you to—"
She froze, eyes wide and mandibles twitching. Her hand slowly moved to her chin.
"...What?" He looked at her warily. "What is it?"
She wasn't listening anymore. He could almost see the gears of her mind beginning to turn.
