"...This is a bad idea."

They were crouched outside of Grak's door, the neon light of the hovering advertisement sign washing over them, blinking sporadically. Even for a shack on a depleted planet, it was small, but the door was rigged with all kinds of security tech. It didn't take a genius to know there were valuables inside, and that it would be a fool's errand to try to break in. A small slit on the upper part of the door was the only indication there even was an interior. Castis wrung his hands, eyes roving over the various scratches on the building's metal surface, too many to try and count. A bad sign. He squeezed his hands even tighter. "A really, really bad idea."

Marcella's hands were clasped together in front of her face. Her eyes shifted in thought, back and forth so quickly it looked like her pupils were vibrating. She'd had this expression for almost five whole minutes. "Yes."

"If this fails, we will be screwed."

Her expression didn't change. "...Yes."

Castis's eyes darted from the door to the sign, back to her. "...No. No way, this isn't gonna work-"

"Yes, it will." She grabbed his shoulders, her eyes finally focusing on his face. "Grak always keeps the back door open when he's in the shop. He doesn't think anyone would be stupid enough to sneak in while he's still there." Her mandibles flexed in amusement. "All you have to do is keep him distracted. Buy something, attempt to arrest him, make small-talk, I don't care. Just keep him occupied. I'll take care of the rest. Trust me." She nodded reassuringly. "I've done this before."

"...You've stolen a gun from this place before?"

She paused. "Well. No. But it will be fine!"

"I…" Castis's fingers were practically numb from his grip. Normally, he would never even consider doing something like this. It certainly seemed every time she was around, he went along with whatever she wanted. Dancing, drinking, not to mention lying to a superior officer's face. What was it about her? And now this. However...she did help him. His foolishness would have surely resulted in him becoming a blood smear on that bar floor if she hadn't saved him. Technically, he owed her.

He sighed and popped his head up and peeked into the tiny slit in the door. Through the window he made out an impossibly large form, milling around the shop and tending to its wares. They had a large hump on their back, wide-set eyes, and a wide mouth full of sharp teeth-

"A KRO—" He choked, quickly ducking his head back down. "Is that a...!" His stomach churned into knots. A krogan? Really? He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. What a night this was turning out to be.

"Oh, they're not that scary come on—"

"No way!" He balled his hands into fists and started knocking them against his temples. " No! I can't, I've never...!"

"Listen to me!" She gripped his upper arms and gave him a firm shake. "You won't be in danger, if anything happens which it won't, it'll all be on me-"

"I don't want that either—"

"Listen to me! You can do this. I saw you in that bar, you were great! And we made it out didn't we?"

"But…"

"If you can do that, you can do this. I know you can do this. I…" She reached for his hands and entwined their fingers, giving a small tender squeeze that made his heart leap. Her voice was soft and pleading. "I can't do this without you. I need you." She leaned forward and her eyes practically shone. "Please? For me...?"

Castis swallowed the lump in his throat and returned the squeeze. One look from her, and he would give her whatever she wanted.

And she knew it.

He narrowed his eyes. "...I know what you're doing."

She tilted her head toward him, the wide-eyed, innocent look still plastered on her face. "...Is it working?"

He tightened his jaw.

Yes, he thought. Damn it all, yes.

"Just trust me." She said again. She gave his hands one last squeeze before leaping to her feet and darting toward the back of the building.

Castis paused, allowing the hot desert wind to blow over him, feeling the tingling in his hands where she had squeezed.

What have I gotten myself into?

He stood up and faced the metal door, the convoluted plan running laps around his mind. He stared at the dents, the scratches, the security tech, willing the courage to open the door to come forth. He paced back and forth a few times for good measure.

'I need you.'

He rapped a knuckle on the door. There was a brief pause, then the panel buzzed and the door slid open.

The room was small, dim, and crammed with every weapon Castis had ever seen or even heard about. Shelves upon shelves of pistols, racks of rifles, and even large weapons capable of catastrophic damage. His eyes roved over the inventory, numbers flooding through his mind as he struggled to count them all. Behind the long counter against the wall was a frighteningly large alien glaring at him apprehensively. To his left was a small darkened doorway leading to the back room. There was a decent-sized gap between the krogan and the layered chainlink wall behind him. Just enough room for a limber turian to sneak past.

"Um….hello?" he ventured.

The krogan's mouth curled in a snarl and his eyes turned into slits. "Evening, Officer."

Castis shrank slightly at the rebuff. How do they all know?

As he took a cautious step toward the counter he saw Marcella appear in the doorway to the left of the krogan, practically dwarfed by his large frame. She gave him an affirmative hand signal before slowly inching out the door and sliding against the wall. It took everything in Castis's power to keep his eyes on the krogan and not her. Everything he had ever read about krogan flooded his brain in loud distracting thoughts. Thick hide, resistant to extreme heat, cold and radiation, redundant vital organs, able to go into a type of rage that makes them even more difficult to kill and wanna rip your head off—

He jerked his head to one side as if to shake the thoughts away. "Are you Grak?"

The large krogan looked above Castis's head. Following his gaze, Castis craned his neck to see 'Grak's Wares' lit up in neon above him.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um...right. Anyway…" He straightened up, attempting to shift back into interrogation mode. "So...uh...what's a krogan doing all the way out here?"

The krogan glared and swept his arm dramatically, gesturing to the wide array before them. "...loaning weapons?" He said it slowly, as though addressing the stupidest person he had ever met.

"...Right," Castis dug his nails into his palms, mentally kicking himself. "but...at an old turian outpost? I thought krogan didn't like turians—"

"I don't like turians!" Grak banged his fists into the thin metal counter making it rattle and causing Marcella to freeze behind him. "I like their money."

Castis felt a sudden rush of fear that he forced himself to swallow. "I see…"

The krogan straightened up to his full height, a good two feet taller than Castis. "Look, I loan weapons here. If you wanna see my credentials—" He jerked his thumb to the left, "—they're on that wall. Now if there's anything else you need...?" his voice turned into a threatening growl, indicating that the conversation had better go somewhere fast.

From the back, Marcella waved a hand in a small circular motion, looking at Castis in desperation. Stall!

"Um, actually I - I am here for a gun." He said suddenly.

The krogan's tone was poisonous. "Oh really."

"Yes! I heard you were carrying a…" Castis's eyes surveyed the store, his mind racing. He avoided eye contact with Marcella who kept sliding her way inch-by-inch against the wall, closer and closer to the rifle hanging behind the krogan. "...a…" His brain turned into sludge as he tried to think of a gun, any gun. The fear seemed to have wiped any knowledge of weaponry from his mind.

"Let me stop you right there." Grak leaned on the counter, his thick elbows taking up most of the space. "I don't lend to anyone without a reference."

"...Oh. Um…"

"Now if you're done wasting my time—" The large alien waved a hand dismissively and began to turn around. Marcella froze and flattened herself as much as she could against the wall, limbs splayed and eyes wide in terror.

"WAIT!"

The krogan paused, his body half-turned toward the wall but his beady eyes still fixed on Castis. "What!?"

"I...I do have a reference…!" Castis's heart was beating so violently against his chest he was afraid the krogan would hear it. "Someone you know, right? Someone you loaned to before?"

"Who?" Grak's impatience was quickly turning into anger.

"Khatirus! Marcella...Khatirus…?"

From behind the Grak's large frame, Marcella nodded her head frantically.

A sound of disgust escaped the krogan's wide mouth.

Castis continued, "You...know Marcella Khatirus, right?"

Grak rolled his tongue as though trying to rid an unpleasant taste from his mouth. "Unfortunately."

Marcella slowly began to make her way to the rifle on the wall again. She was right underneath the mounted rifle now and was beginning to steadily move her arm up towards it. She gave him a small nod, indicating he should keep going.

"Right then. Uh..." Castis scanned the walls, the shelves, and the crates, drawing out his words as slowly as possible to buy more time. "I would like...uh...a….uhhhh..." He could see Marcella's fingers just starting to brush the tip of the rifle's barrel.

"A what?!" Grak let out a full-bodied roar that rattled a few guns off their shelves causing them to clatter noisily to the floor.

Castis lunged toward the closest crate next to the counter and grabbed the first thing on top, a long black cylinder with multiple attachments. "T-this weapon, please."

Grax didn't move nor did he even look at the weapon Castis had presented him on the counter. He stared at him, eyes narrowed and mouth pressed tight in contempt. "...That's a scope."

Castis felt his stomach drop to his knees. "Oh." He cleared his throat. "I mean. Yes. That's what I meant -"

"It's broken." Grax thrust a finger in the direction of the crate the scope came out of. "That's the trash."

"...Oh." Castis said again. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marcella, mandibles pressed tightly to her face, gently easing the rifle off its hook. He clenched his jaw, determined to sell this act.

"But...I...want it?" He said stupidly.

"...No."

Castis swallowed, his hands shaking slightly. He clenched his fists and drew himself up to his full height, meeting the krogan's eye with a piercing stare.

You can do this, she is counting on you! For once in your stupid life just be the assertive smooth-talking man you need to be. All your hours of negotiation training have led to this. Now shake this guy down!

"...Please?" He whimpered.

In one motion, Grax swept his large hand across the counter, launching the scope across the room and shattering it against the wall. Its pieces tinged as they fell against the floor.

"Listen." Grax slapped both hands on the counter, once again causing Marcella to freeze. "I'm gonna let you in on a little piece of advice."

Castis flinched, preparing himself for another angry krogan tirade.

"If you really are Marcella's little pet, you should know not to listen to a word she says."

Castis blinked. "I...huh?"

"She's nothing but trouble and thinks she can just talk her way out of anything. She's like a wounded klixen, back her into a corner and she burns everything around her."

Castis shuffled uncomfortably. It took all his willpower to avoid looking at Marcella, who seemed to be listening intently. She had retrieved the rifle and was just starting to head back. "Is..that so..."

"Yeah." Grak pulled his large hands off the counter causing the thin metal to wobble with the release of the weight. "Except she can't hack it. She can't make any ruthless decisions and doesn't know how to cut the varrenshit. No one trusts her and no one likes her. She's too soft-hearted to be a career criminal but too troublesome for a real job. A real pain in the ass."

Anger flared through Castis at the krogan's insult but he kept his tone even. "If she's so bad at it, why keep her around?"

"Because she's loyal. These guys will shoot their own mothers to prove they're tougher than the next guy, but she won't sell you out." He nodded slowly, scratching at the tough skin of his neck. "I'll admit it, there's a part of me that likes her integrity."

"Oh?"

"Yeah...but there's an even bigger part of me that hates her stupid little tricks."

He slammed his hand behind him, catching Marcella in the chest, knocking the wind out of her and causing her to drop the pilfered rifle. Grak swung his meaty head around, glaring at her with beady yellow eyes. "I told you not to push me."

"A-Aww, Grak you do like me-!" Marcella gasped, struggling against the chain.

He closed his fist on the front of her jacket and hoisted her into the air with a belly laugh.

"Hey!" Castis reached out an arm reflexively feeling as though his heart had stopped.

"It's fine!" She motioned for him to stand down. "I have everything under control-"

"Oh, come on Marcella," He gave her a rough shake. "You must be even stupider than I thought to think I would fall for this."

She gripped his fingers in a vain effort to pull them off her jacket. "That rifle is practically mine! I've paid more than enough for it-"

"Then face me yourself!" He slammed her head against the wall, dragging it against the chainlink, knocking her head into the various guns hung upon it "Think you can sic your little stooge on me you, sneaky, stupid-"

"- ow - owie - OW -"

"-backstabbing, little-"

"Stop!" Castis was starting to panic. He didn't know what to do. Would a tiny pistol even stop a krogan? Would it just make him angrier? He reached out his hand again, uselessly. "Stop or I'll….!"

"Cas, don't." Marcella's voice was slightly muffled from being pressed against the wall but her subvocals conveyed a warning.

His breath caught in his throat. A strange wave of warmth seeped through him coupled with a ripple of confusing emotions. 'Cas'? A nickname? He shuddered at the informality. The way he was raised, only someone really close to the individual would ever call them by a nickname. He must have misheard. Or it's an act she's putting on. Or she forgot what his real name is. Whatever the reason, it doesn't mean anything, don't read into it. He felt himself begin to shake.

No one has ever called me by a nickname, not even my own parents.

"But -"

"I got this." She sounded surprisingly calm for someone who was at the mercy of a giant terrifying alien, almost as though this was a common occurrence.

Grak laughed, thick and hearty, thrusting Marvella into the air again. "Hey, you stupid little pyjak, isn't it obvious yet? She tricked you. Bet she hoped I would just crush your skull while she ran off with the weapon, right Marcella?"

"Hey, this is just between you and me, buddy," She still struggled in his grip. "besides, you're too dumb and slow to hit anybody-!"

"What did she tell you?" He gave Marcella another shake, forcing her dangling body to sway back and forth. "Did she give you her sad, little story?"

Castis couldn't hide his look of confusion.

The krogan's eyes went wide with mock surprise. "Whaaaat? She didn't tell you?" He brought a large hand to his face. "Oh no!"

"Grak, don't you dare -"

"Go ahead, tell him. Tell him what you tell all the others." He raised his voice in a loud fake wail. "Oh, boo-hoo! Pirates killed my parents!"

Her body went rigid, all pretense of calm evaporating from her face. "Stop."

"I think the galaxy owes me revenge!" His fake sobs continued. "I'm gonna kill the Pirate lord all by myself!" Grak laughed in his normal gravelly voice. "Poor little girl. What a sad lot, to only live for revenge! Maybe if you screw over everyone, someone will finally be smart enough to put you out of your misery and you won't have to go on your little suicidal quest-"

"Shut the fuck up, Grak!" Marcella flailed helplessly, fury burning in her eyes.

He turned back toward her with a toothy grin. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't just snap your neck right now."

"Okay listen. Just listen to me!" She stopped struggling and looked into his eyes. "I can get you the money. If you kill me, you get nothing."

Grak seemed to consider, his large face screwed up in contemplation. "Hmmm...I have a counter offer." He reached his other hand toward her. "You pay me what you owe and I get to break one of your arms."

For the first time since entering the shop, genuine fear flashed in her eyes. "Hey - no - you don't wanna do that -"

"Oh, I do. I really do."

Castis's brain shrieked. Do something!

"Don't-!"

There was a flash of steel and Grak yelled, more in shock than in pain. Marcella had slashed the front of the jacket cutting herself free and slicing his knuckles in the process. The shreds of her ruined jacket were still clutched in his bloodied fist. She hit the ground hard on her feet and clambered over the counter, landing in front of Castis. She brandished a long knife in her hand.

"You sneaky little...!" Grak growled, throwing the bloodied fabric to the ground. "Now you've done it."

"Sorry, Grak." She smirked and bodily pushed Castis backward towards the entrance. "Better luck next time!"

"Uh-huh." He ducked his sizable form under the counter and emerged with a large shotgun.

"Hey, come on, no need for that!" She moved faster, backing into Castis until he was practically smashed against the door. "I get it. Point taken."

"No, see," He cocked the shotgun pointedly. "Now I'm going to kill ya."

"Uh...!" Castis struggled uselessly between the metal door and her body, fear gripping every fiber of his being.

"It's alright," Her voice sounded calm but he felt her hand scramble for the buttons to open the door. "He's just kidding-"

Grak rose the shotgun at them both and took aim.

"Okay-he's-not-kidding-run!"

A harsh buzz rang in Castis's ears as a blast hit the wall next to his head, knocking a few of the objects hanging precariously off the wall. He fell backward as the door slid behind him, the hot air practically smacking him in the face. Marcella fell back on top of him, crushing his ribs and leaving him gasping for air. They both stumbled to their feet and took off running into the night. "Come back here you little bitch!" Another shot rang out from the shop, but they had already ran past the bar and out of sight.