"There's antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium, and hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium, and nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium, and iron, americium, ruthenium, uranium…"
Mordin's voice echoed off the walls of the tech lab as he sang, tapping at his display, then spinning to check on a line of test tubes against the wall. Flicking one tube with a clink, he continued.
"Europium, zirconium, lutetium, vanadium, and lanthanum and osmium and astatine and radium…"
Trust humans to come up with a song such as that, he thought to himself, outdated though it was. He sighed, tapping the worktable impatiently; the tetrodotoxin sodium channel concept had to be tested, and sooner rather than later. He glanced at the centrifuge across the room; it was almost finished.
"And gold protactinium and indium and gallium, and iodine and thorium and thulium and thallium…"
Mordin continued tapping a finger against the table idly, waiting for the centrifuge.
"There's yttrium, ytterbium, actinium, rubidium, and boron, gadolinium, niobium, iridium…"
The centrifuge gave a ding! as it finished, and Mordin hurried forward, tearing his gloves off and taking the small vial inside, handling it gingerly, with the pads of his fingers.
The cell tests and petri dish tests were done; he'd even sheared off a bit of the skin on his pinky finger and taken tissue samples from his own forearm in an attempt to verify the new formula wouldn't cause any serious reactions, and would have the desired result.
Still, the idea of injecting himself once more - after his initial Collector swarm experiments - with something completely untested in a full organism was… unnerving, to say the least, and his hands shook ever so slightly as he manipulated the tiny vial, transferring the liquid into another glass tube away from the residue at the bottom that he had just extracted out of it. Carefully taking the vial with the liquid in one hand, he retrieved a set of needles from the desk.
"EDI," he called.
"Yes, Dr Solus," came the ever-present AI.
"Is Dr. Chakwas awake?"
"Yes. She is currently reviewing supplies in the medbay."
"Good, good," he replied absently, attention already back on the newly-formulated chemical. Quickly, he swapped out a thin hypodermic needle on the syringe for a larger one, and drew up a carefully-calculated dose, then swapped the thin needle back for the actual injection.
"On standby," he told EDI; after the thorough research and testing he had done for the first Collector vaccine, she was familiar with his routine, and notified Dr. Chakwas of his experiment.
"Latency time?" EDI asked.
"Five minutes," he answered.
"On standby five minutes," she verified; after that amount of time, Mordin could either call off the countdown, or Dr. Chakwas would come up to the tech lab, anticipating an emergency. "Starting…"
Mordin held the needle to his skin; steeling himself, he pressed the needle in. "Now," he said, and pushed the plunger down. "Injection sensation no different than normal," he stated once the needle was empty and once he had flicked his shoulder frame into recording mode. "Standby started; will continue with test. Latency time five minutes."
With that, he busied himself around the lab, tidying up. "And strontium and silicon and silver and samarium, and bismuth, bromine, lithium, beryllium, and barium…"
Sweeping some dust off the desk, he paused as some stuck to his fingers; he blew it off gently, then continued. "There's holmium and helium and hafnium and erbium, and phosphorus and francium and fluorine and terbium…"
He scooped up a couple of discarded test tubes and deposited them in the 'hazard' bin to be cleaned, the tubes rattling against each other.
"And manganese and mercury, molybdenum, magnesium, dysprosium and scandium and cerium and cesium…" He picked up his display from the table and clicked it back into its cradle on his worktable, then turned, raising a hand to rub at his eyes - nictitating membranes only did so much in particularly dry environments, he thought to himself ruefully - and promptly slapped himself in the face with the display.
Well. That was unexpected. Giving himself a little shake, he clicked it back into its cradle, and turned to pick up the discarded centrifuge tube, then hissed as his wrist was nearly pulled out of place; the display clacked onto the worktable, yanked out of its cradle.
"Hm."
He raised his hand; the display stuck to it, fastened firmly to the grippy pads on the tips of his fingers.
"Hm."
He gripped the display with his other hand and pulled; it took a shocking amount of effort to detach it. He frowned, one hand coming up to gingerly scratch the back of his neck.
"Activation of grip pads possible side effect," he dictated to his recorder. "Right hand appears to be sticking to most surfaces." He scratched at the back of his neck a bit harder, but instead of going away, the itchy sensation began to spread. "Itch sensation also occurring," he noted. "Mostly limited to neck - no, spreading," he stated as it began to inch further along his skin. "Not very comfortable." He grimaced, forcing himself not to scratch his neck again, and sighed. "Likely allergic reaction," he muttered. Brilliant. Exactly what he needed; an allergy to the thing that was supposed to save them.
Still - allergic reactions were not something to mess with.
"EDI, going downstairs. Warn Dr. Chakwas, please."
"Yes, Dr. Solus," the AI said immediately. "Shall I warn her of the allergic reaction?"
"Yes." It had been a while since he had to pay the doctor a late-night visit, he thought with annoyance as he absently picked up his gloves, and promptly got them stuck to his fingers.
A minute or two later, unable to get his gloves off his fingers, he'd had to step on his own precious gloves to get his fingers un-stuck - and had to leave them on the floor, unable to pick them back up. He stepped into the elevator as a roaring started in his head; he absently tapped the elevator button for the corresponding deck, then impatiently rolled his eyes as his finger immediately adhered to the button.
"I could have brought the elevator to the correct floor," EDI told him blandly as the elevator descended.
"Yes, yes," he muttered, trying to ignore the roaring and trying to detach his finger from the button without dislocating it.
"Mordin?" Dr. Chakwas called for him, sounding worried, as the elevator doors opened. "Mordin, is everything all right?"
"Allergic," he called, fighting with the elevator button; suddenly it seemed very difficult to stay upright. "Stuck," he managed.
"Stuck?" Dr. Chakwas came 'round into view of the elevator. "Stuck on what?"
"Button," he forced out, staggering as his vision skewed to the left. "Allergic."
"What? Mordin!"
The salarian's knees buckled, and his head hit the elevator console with a dull thud; he stayed like that as Dr. Chakwas hovered over him, and he focused on breathing as evenly as he could. "Allergic." Breathe. "Neurotoxin antidote testing."
"Okay," Dr. Chakwas said quickly, her eyes narrowing. "Did you conduct the test with or without the toxin present?"
"Without," he breathed.
"At least you had the sense to do that," she muttered, bending down and carefully prying his fingertip off the elevator button with her fingernail. "Can you stand?"
Mordin shook his head mutely.
"Arm around me, then," she told him, and he unsteadily raised a hand; she grabbed it and threw it around her shoulders, then heaved the salarian to his feet. "Have you been drinking enough water?"
"Not now," he mumbled, listing to one side until Dr. Chakwas pulled him back upright.
"Come." With effort, she helped the much-taller alien into the medbay, and set him on one of the beds. Once satisfied he wouldn't topple over, she turned and began rifling through cabinets, and pulled out a water bottle and two small vials. "Water," she commanded, handing him the water bottle, and he shakily took it.
"Thanks," he croaked, and very carefully opened it and began to sip.
"Don't thank me yet," Dr. Chakwas murmured, drawing up an injection from one vial. "I'm giving you a sodium chloride booster, and then you're getting antihistamines."
Mordin made a face. "If you insist," he muttered, then groaned as he nearly fell to the left, the room spinning.
"I know, it's not pleasant," she commented, "but you look - no, you feel dehydrated, Mordin, the skin on your hands is almost tacky - which isn't helping your current predicament."
"Likely not," Mordin agreed, inching over to the head of the bed and slouching along the wall. "Very well."
"Arm," she demanded, and he held out his arm; she rolled his sleeve up past the two small dotted scars on his forearm, locating the main vein through his wrist, and made quick work of the injection.
Mordin rolled his sleeve back down and wriggled a bit, trying to get comfortable before the injection took effect. "Thank you," he said quietly.
Instead of responding, Dr. Chakwas sighed heavily and busied herself with drawing up another injection.
"Irritated?" Mordin asked neutrally, wincing as the skin around the booster injection site began to itch.
She sighed again and turned, flicking air out of the needle. "Mordin, last time you had to come to me for one of your experiments, you ended up out of commission for two weeks."
"My doing," he murmured, automatically holding out his arm; she made quick work of the second injection, too. "Not yours. Not reflective of your skill."
"I found you unconscious on the floor last time!" she said sharply, and he inhaled through his nostrils, one hand scratching feebly at his wrist as the itch spread - not a welcome sensation against skin already itchy from the allergic reaction.
"Incorrect dosage," he said curtly. "Miscalculated."
"I know that!" she snapped. "We talked about that after it happened - but that doesn't make this easier."
"Agreed to help with experiments," Mordin noted neutrally, and she looked at him, eyes flashing.
"I agreed to help you, Mordin, not be your emergency backup whenever something screws up," she said, her tone suddenly harsh.
Mordin blinked, not fazed, but didn't answer right away; after a moment, he said, "Irritable about methods?"
She rolled her eyes, running one hand absently through her hair. "Mordin, there's more to it than that."
Mordin was quiet again. "Explain please?" he finally requested.
"Every time you do one of these experiments, you do it by yourself with nobody but EDI to get help," she reasoned. "Every time I get another standby notice from you, I worry I'm going to walk up there to find you half-dead on the floor."
"Never half-dead," he stated, and Dr. Chakwas pressed her lips together tightly.
"That isn't my point," she said, her tone clipped.
"Never half-dead. Always take safety precautions. Ample tests, both cellular and macro tissue, simulations, notify EDI when doing tests - "
"Mordin, do you have any idea how stressful that was?"
He crossed his arms, trying not to scratch his skin as the allergic reaction and antihistamines mixed with the the booster, making his skin crawl. "Finding me on floor?" he guessed, and she nodded.
"I didn't know what it was you had done - all your notes were on your recorder, you left me nothing to go from, I had no clue if you'd had a reaction or if it was a side effect, if you'd anticipated any of the effects, what it was you'd given yourself…" She took a breath through her nose, willing herself to be patient. "I was terrified."
Mordin nodded as she spoke, a neutral expression on his face. "Meant to leave notes. Lost consciousness too quickly." He inhaled yet again. "Bad methods," he said, more to himself than her. "Should have left notes in different format. Did not anticipate such a bad reaction."
"That's why you need someone there with you when you do these things, Mordin," Dr. Chakwas said patiently. "Take today, for example - if it weren't for me coming to get you, someone would've found you passed out in the elevator!"
Mordin nodded slowly. "Stressful?" He invited her to elaborate.
"I was terrified to do anything the first time because you were unconscious and unable to tell me anything," she told him, "and I didn't want to trigger another reaction, or cause any biological interference, or make anything worse. I told you, when it happened, it was all I could do to move you to the medbay and monitor you."
"Was okay," he murmured.
Dr. Chakwas stood and caught his wrist; he inhaled sharply at the sensation of cold fingers against the irritated injection site. "That is not the point," she told him firmly.
Mordin held her gaze for a moment, then pulled his wrist back. "Not the point," he repeated.
"Mordin, you're a scientist!" she exclaimed, sitting back down. "If this was an experiment involving someone else, would you do the test and then leave them on their own?"
"Would need to observe, so no," he said carefully, and she huffed, crossing her arms.
"Of course," she snapped, "so long as you can observe it, then it's fine."
He blinked owlishly, nonplussed. "Can readjust parameters to not use you as - ah - backup," he offered. "Never intended to use you as such."
"I want you conducting these experiments in a safer way," she said, eyes narrowed.
"Safe enough."
"You nearly fainted in the elevator! This is the third time we've had a close call. At least this time, I didn't find you already unconscious." She took a breath. "Don't make me threaten."
"Threaten?" Mordin flexed his fingers idly, then examined one pad.
"I can take you off active duty," she told him bluntly.
Mordin sat back. "Would you?" he inquired, his tone calm and even, though she noticed his expression tighten almost imperceptibly.
"If I can't realistically be assured you aren't putting yourself in danger, then yes."
"Ah," Mordin said evenly. "Was unaware you considered it that bad."
Dr. Chakwas let the silence stretch on for a minute. "Would it really be that bad to have some help?" she asked eventually, her voice softer. "Can you truly say what you're doing is safe? I'm not a biologist, I'm a medical doctor," she said, "but I have science training and I'm familiar with your work." She paused to rub at her face, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "What you're doing is reckless," she told him sternly. "When I agreed to help you with your projects, I didn't anticipate this. I thought you'd have me take a more active role. Can you truly say that having me help would be a hindrance?"
Mordin eyed her warily. "Perhaps not," he said, rather noncommittal.
"Why the resistance?" she wanted to know; he inhaled again and steepled his fingers, pressing the pads together to keep from itching his wrist again.
"Efficiency. Prefer working on my own. Faster thought processes, more flexibility."
She stared. "That's all?"
"'That's all?'" he repeated, frowning.
"Mordin, I expected it to be something a little more crucial than preference!" she stated hotly.
"And schedule flexibility," he murmured. "Besides - experiments safe. Following precautions. You, EDI - both invaluable."
She stood, arms at her sides, a sharp expression on her face. "Valuable?" she repeated, and fixed him with a determined glare. "I agreed to help, not to be forced to play triage and A&E every time you think you've had a breakthrough," she snapped. "Did you even pause to think about the fact that every time you initiate that standby countdown, I have to freeze whatever I'm doing? That I have to wait for you, patiently, to tell me it's okay, there's no medical emergency tonight? That I have to sit and hope you haven't made some perilous mistake that I will end up caring for?"
Mordin listened to her, shifting uncomfortably on the bed - his skin was still itching - and remained silent, thinking.
The animosity slowly dissipated, and Dr. Chakwas sat back down tiredly. "Mordin, I've had nights I can't sleep after those standby countdowns," she told him softly, though firmly. "The amount of adrenaline that gives me - hm." She paused, watching Mordin fidget with his fingers.
"Hm," Mordin repeated; he had gotten his fingertips stuck together. At his nod, Dr. Chakwas stood, gripped his fingers, and began to carefully pry them apart.
"I keep odd hours, much like you, and I'm familiar with your Collector swarm work," she said pointedly, tugging at his fingertips. "Would it hurt to involve me a little further?"
Mordin sighed, flexing his fingers as they finally separated. "No."
"Apart from safety, it would also save me from having to find you on the floor again," she added. "Mordin… Despite the unlikely possibility, some small part of me was convinced you were in perilous danger."
"Danger?" he asked blandly; she nodded as she sat back down and reflexively smoothed the sheets on the edge of the bed. "Never in that much danger," he mused.
"Mordin, may I be blunt?" she asked, and he inclined his head. "You're old," she stated. "You're forty-two; the average lifespan for a salarian is forty. Your body is likely not up to handle as much strain as it used to."
"Ah," Mordin said, though something in his eyes belied amusement. "Worried about geriatric patient."
"It's a reasonable concern," she told him firmly, and he sighed and nodded, relenting.
"Fair," he agreed.
Silence stretched on, only a bit more comfortable than the last. Mordin mulled over the information. It was true, he was past retirement age; easily the most elderly out of all the crew, in fact, despite his athleticism. The danger wasn't there, but if he hadn't explained the situation fully, and merely relied on her medical expertise to pull him out of a medical emergency… and he had initiated these standby countdowns every time he'd made a breakthrough on the original Collector swarm problem. Had she really had to drop everything to wait on him?
"Sorry," Mordin finally said, his tone even and neutral.
Dr. Chakwas tilted her head to one side, mildly surprised. "Sorry?"
Mordin took a breath. "Did not mean to cause you such stress. Did not intend."
"Oh," Dr. Chakwas said, voice equally quiet. "I figured, Mordin. I didn't think you'd done so on purpose." She shifted in her seat, crossing her arms and tapping one elbow thoughtfully. "I would appreciate it if you could have a little more consideration in the future, however."
"Better methods," he agreed.
"Not just methods," she pointed out, and leaned forward again. "Safety."
He hesitated. "Want more involvement?" he asked her, and she paused before speaking.
"I wish there was a way around it, because I don't think want is the right word," she admitted. "I don't like the idea of you performing experiments on yourself like this. But I understand the urgency and necessity, so yes. I would like to be more involved."
Mordin thought it over; perhaps he had taken advantage of her availability thus far, and her medical expertise was invaluable to him, allowing him to continue these experiments. Perhaps some concessions needed to be made. "Would like to retain directive freedom," he warned, holding up a finger. "Will not compromise results for comfort. Safety, perhaps. Not comfort."
"I'm not asking you to compromise anything," Dr. Chakwas said, smoothing her uniform. "I just need some more reassurance that I'll be able to help in the event something doesn't go according to plan."
"Reasonable," Mordin said decisively, and held out a hand for her to shake.
"Your fingertips are still sticky," Dr. Chakwas reminded him, and he smiled and withdrew his hand.
"Ah, yes. Doesn't seem to stick to all surfaces," he commented, pressing a finger to the sheets and raising his hand without much effort. "Curious." Could be helpful as hindrance poison, he thought to himself, though he didn't say so aloud.
"Let me know when you've got control of it again," Dr. Chakwas advised, "and you can eat. I know you also don't eat as much as you should - high metabolism and all."
Mordin nodded wearily. "Thank you."
"Not a problem," she told him, standing. "I want you in the medbay overnight - just in case there's any other reactions," she said, pleasantly surprised when he nodded agreement without any protest.
"Allergic reactions not something to treat lightly," he explained, correctly interpreting her expression. "Would prefer to err on side of caution." He sighed, then added, somewhat begrudgingly, "Lucky reaction is not that bad."
"You need someone with you," she reiterated sternly, then stretched. "How about I go find us some food?"
Mordin nodded again, and she left. He glanced up at one of the displays hanging from the ceiling, and started up his omnitool; if he was going to be stuck here, he might as well have something to do. He set a video to play, then hit pause as Dr. Chakwas entered a few minutes later with two plates of food.
"How's your fingers?" she asked conversationally, and Mordin tested one finger pressed against another; they stuck, though he was able to pull them apart much more easily than before.
"Improving."
"Good. What are you watching?"
"Mary Poppins," he told her, and she turned, taken aback.
"Mary Poppins," she repeated. "Oh, now that's a classic."
"Like classics," he informed her. "Good music."
"Do you have a favorite? Ah, no, wait - let me guess," she said. "Pirates of Penzance?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "Favorite song from that," he noted, "but favorite is Anastasia. Broadway, not movie."
"Well, you're full of surprises," Dr. Chakwas remarked, and he smiled. "We'll have to see if we can find a recording, then, won't we."
Mordin glanced at her, surprised in turn. "Would like to watch?"
"I'd love to - assuming there are no standby emergencies," she said pointedly, eyeing him. "And I bet many of the others would, as well," she added. "We could have another movie night."
"Would be fun," he agreed. "Though preferably with fewer performances."
"I thought you had fun doing that."
"Did," he said. "But performed that before. Never performed Anastasia."
"Ah. That's fair." She carefully balanced one plate of food at the end of Mordin's bed, then sat and forked a few green beans into her mouth. "Did you really play the Major-General in Pirates?" she asked curiously, a smile tugging at her lips.
He returned the slight smile. "Yes."
"I have to admit, I can't quite imagine it," she said lightly. "He seems a rather goofy character."
Mordin placed a hand on his chest, mockingly taken aback. "Best part!" he insisted. "Challenge. Plus - " He paused to suck in a breath. "Fun to surprise others. Never see it coming."
Dr. Chakwas chuckled. "You're quite the odd one, aren't you."
"Been told that," Mordin said cheekily.
"You can keep watching, if you like."
"Was going to wait until you left."
"Nah," was the reply. "I don't mind." She took the second plate of food and offered it to him. "Do you think you can manage this?"
He took the plate carefully, testing his fingers on the underside of his plate, then nodded, picked up his fork, and stabbed a pile of the sweet spinach-like leaves known as liybh. He glanced at Dr. Chakwas; if he had truly caused her that much trouble tonight… "Would like to watch?" he asked casually.
"Oh, I don't know," she said airily. "I don't want to intrude."
"Not intruding," he insisted. "Don't mind."
"Is this some attempt to win me over after this experiment tonight?" she teased.
He didn't catch the joking tone and ducked his head, avoiding her eyes. "Not quite."
"I was joking, Mordin," she said gently, and he shrugged.
"Fair point either way," he muttered.
"I don't actually think you're trying to do that," she assured.
He stabbed a few more leaves. "Offer stands."
She paused, thinking, her fork halfway to her mouth. "If you're sure you don't mind."
"Not at all." He rubbed idly at his missing horn; she raised an eyebrow as she chewed. "Headache," he explained, and gestured to the missing horn. "Nothing worrying."
"I can get you something for that, but we'll have to wait a little while - I don't want it interfering with anything else you've got in your system," she told him, and he nodded. "Does it still hurt you much?"
"Pressure changes," he grumbled, and she winced.
"All too common on pressure vessels like this," she remarked, and he nodded. "I'll get you something as soon as you've finished your food - assuming you're feeling all right, and that your fingertips are back to normal."
"Reasonable," he agreed.
"In the meantime…" She took another bite, this time of mashed potatoes, then gingerly placed the plate on her knees and scooted her chair a little closer to the head of the bed. "Would you like to keep watching?"
"Certainly." He swallowed the bite he'd taken, then gestured to the screen. "Seen before?"
"As a very young child," she told him, and he smiled.
"Nostalgia," he said warmly, and pressed play.
After some time, once the food was finished and they had both set aside their plates, she leaned forward, a grin forming on her face. "Mordin?"
"Yes?"
"You can sing if you want to, you know."
He glanced at her. "Want me to?" he asked curiously.
"All I'm saying is that I can hear you muttering the words under your breath," she said, and his lips quirked in a smile.
"Most people dislike speaking or singing during movies," he said mildly, and she shook her head.
"I don't mind. I can hear you either way." She sat back in her chair, her hands clasped on her elbows. "Sing away." She nodded at the screen.
"Favorite song coming up," he commented, shifting where he sat.
"Which one?"
"'Jolly Holiday,'" he told her. "Jaunty, cheerful."
"That's a good one," she remarked. "I'm partial to the little song the children sing when they want to help find a nanny."
"Very cute," he agreed.
"You know Karen Dotrice once played Desdemona in Othello," she said conversationally. "Stage performance - there's no recording of it that I know of."
"Othello," Mordin repeated, raising one brow, and Dr. Chakwas gave him a smile.
"Have you not heard of it? Play by William Shakespeare," she commented. "Passionate, very passionate, with themes of love and tragedy."
"Heard of, but not seen many Shakespeare plays," he remarked. "More partial to operas."
"Like Pirates of Penzance," she said knowingly, and he inclined his head. "Well, if I remember correctly, it was adapted into an opera in the 1800s."
"True?" he asked, interested. "Recording?"
"I'm not quite sure of any," she admitted. "I know there were a number of human filmed stage operas in the 2150s. Some resurgence of old classics in popularity."
"Would like to see," he said. "Will have to look up later."
"Oh, if you find a good recording, would you forward it to me?" she asked him, bouncing one foot idly as the movie continued in the background.
"Certainly. Would appreciate other leads on classics - human music quite interesting," he added. "Varied. Complex. Diverse. Many different genres."
"Humans do seem to be rather like that, don't we," she agreed.
"Opinions on this?" he asked, pointing to the screen; she grinned.
"Julie Andrews is a gem," she said lightly. "But I thoroughly enjoy the father character."
"Really? Prefer Bert," he said with a matching grin. "Very fun character."
"A little, ah, outdated for me," Dr. Chakwas said ruefully. "I can't help it - I can't see past some of the era issues."
"Pirates even worse," Mordin noted. "Still - keep in mind flaws, and still enjoy that."
"Yes, well." She stretched in her seat. "Always did have trouble looking past things like that, I did."
"Not a bad quality."
"Perhaps. Even so. Your song's about to happen," she told him, pointing.
Mordin turned to her, struck by an idea. "Sing?" he asked suddenly.
Dr. Chakwas blinked, thoroughly taken aback. "I don't know the words."
Mordin gestured with his omnitool; subtitles appeared. "Don't have to. Just thought, two-person song."
"I haven't sung for anyone in a long time," she said hesitantly, smoothing a crease in her uniform. "I likely sound awful."
"Doubt it," he said breezily. "Cannot be any worse than me."
"You don't sound awful," she informed him, her tone lightly scolding.
He tilted his head to the side. "Have good enunciation," he noted, "though…" He gestured to himself. "Salarian. Not very deep voice."
"That doesn't matter," Dr. Chakwas scoffed. "You sound wonderful." He smiled, and indicated the screen - he'd paused the movie. Dr. Chakwas held his gaze for a long moment. "Oh, hell," she finally muttered, and scooted her chair a little closer. "Why not?"
"Thank you," he said, then after a moment, added, "Appreciate what you have done."
"I'm only singing," she told him, but he shook his head.
"No." He inhaled sharply. "Appreciate your work," he stated. "Should have realized sooner - strain. Stressful." He inclined his head. "Will admit - " he gestured at the screen, "motivation partly because I would like to take your mind off it. Did not mean for tonight to end stressfully."
Dr. Chakwas sighed and shook her head, tossing a lock of hair from her face. "Mordin, I just need you to be more careful. That will be my thanks. That, and not having to play emergency responder."
Mordin nodded, feeling chastised. "Point taken."
"Good. Now, are you going to hit play?" she asked, pointing at the screen with a gentle smile, and he tapped his omnitool, and the song began.
"Ain't it a glorious day? Right as a mornin' in May, I feel like I could fly…"
Author's Notes: You cannot tell me these two weren't friends of a sort. Not with all the overlap and necessity for collaboration sometimes (as Chakwas points out here).
The song that Mordin is singing is actually a song written in 1959 by Tom Lehrer - it literally just lists the elements that had been discovered at the time, set to the exact same tune as Scientist Salarian/Major-General's Song, so, naturally, I had to use it. Listen to it here: watch?v=AcS3NOQnsQM