They didn't say a word after they left the briefing room. They had to walk through the war and communication room on their way back to the elevator. The positions were sparely filled, the night cycle was coming to an end and the early shift would soon take over. The few crew members present glanced at them and whispered as they walked by, but nobody talked to them or dared to ask questions. A look at their battered condition, and the fact that they had been summoned by the captain himself alone offered enough room for speculations, and none of them spoke of an easy day for the squad.

"I'm sorry that we hadn't been open with Crusher before you came, Mojo." Amalthea had waited until they were back in the corridor, where nobody could overhear them easily. "Arek and I agreed that we wouldn't mention names without you and Meyrani present. I didn't expect him to single you out like that."

"Wouldn't have blamed you if you did. That was your chance to get me kicked out of your happy circle".

"That it was. How about not making us regret that we didn't take the opportunity?" The asari stopped at the intersection that parted the corridor – one way led to the elevator, the other to the bridge. She placed herself in front of Mojo, raising her hand to stop him from walking on.

"Listen. We didn't do too bad on Noveria. You and Arek didn't, and that already started on Omega. We ran out of luck when Cerberus showed up, that's all. And even then you two did a good job. I don't think we'll all be best friends at the end of the day, but dammit, Mojo. We just started to work as a team, and I think we could really be a damn good squad if we gave each other a last chance and get used to each other."

"Nice speech. Do you really believe what you're preaching?"

"Yes." She met his stare without flinching or blinking. Mojo noticed her calm expression, with only a hint of a frown. Her face mirrored the stubborn streak of her personality, but was free from hostility. She neither blushed nor did a muscle in her face or body twitch. If she was lying, she was doing a damn good job. He had seen and heard enough of her and her temper since he had been teamed up with her - Amalthea valued good work, success, and preferred a direct approach over sly and underhand ways. There existed worse characters, that were far more unpleasant to have around, and to work with. In spite of his own stubborness, Mojo began to believe her

"Fine, whatever." He shrugged, and headed towards the elevator, the rest of the group following him.

"I think he wants to say 'Good to hear, I'll take you by your word'. If you don't mind me translating, Mojo." Meyrani limped by his side, smirking at him.

"You got quite daring, kiddo. Or are you flirting with me?" They arrived at the elevator, and walked in. Mojo hit the button that would bring them to the floor with the crew quarters, the others didn't object. He glanced at the faces around him. All three of them looked tired and worn out. Arek seemed to be about to fall asleep while standing – he leaned against the wall, arms and legs crossed, eyes half closed. To see him not being in the mood for banter was rare, and refreshing. Although a bit boring, he had at least expected a shocked gasp, maybe even an attempt to jump to Meyrani's help and defend her honor.

"As flirting means I'd have to put up with your personality – no. Sorry, Mojo." She gave a laugh, while Arek and Amalthea looked at her in mild confusion.

"Is there something going on between you guys? Weren't you about to gut each other only a few days ago?" Amusing, how the asari asked the same questions like the human. Mojo smirked, leaving the answer to the female turian – if Meyrani didn't feel like explaining, good. Should they rack their brains over that riddle.

"We were, and it cleared the air. Sometimes you have to make it clear that you're meaning business, and won't let another mistake slide," Meyrani explained, stepping outside the elevator once it halted and opened.

"Kinda like a turian ritual for demanding respect?" Arek stifling a yawn that threatened to let his curiosity looked like boredom.

"Yes. And it isn't a hollow phrase or gesture. If one of us oversteps the other's boundaries again, there will be blood. All right, I'll leave here." Meyrani stopped at the next intersection. "If I had to, I'd stay true to my word, of course. But I'm glad I don't. Two functioning turians are better than one functioning, and one dead. Anyone of you want to come with me to the mess? I'm starving." The change of topic came too abruptly for Arek and Amalthea to ask any more questions, and Mojo had nothing he wanted to add himself. He had been impressed when Meyrani, who was more a girl than a woman in his eyes, had threatened him. She had also proven herself as smart and tough; he had been in the wrong when he judged her as spoiled and whiny because of her origin, age and girlish appearance. He didn't need to provoke a ritual fight to see her as acceptable anymore to acknowledge that much.

"Not today, Rani. I hear my bed calling," Arek said with a tired smile.

"And I need to get out of this thing, and a shower." Amalthea stretched, and tried to loosen the collar of her armor. "I'll come afterwards, and join you if you're still there."

"If you come, I'll have a cup of tea and wait for you. Mojo?"

"Bed."

The two women left, one heading for the shower room, the other for the mess. Mojo continued his way to his quarters, Arek was on his heels. They reached the door to the human's shared quarters, and Mojo walked on.

"Wait."

He stopped, turning around.

"When I said 'bed' I meant my bed," he snarled at Arek, who responded with a grin.

"Good one. No, it's not that. I'll leave it to you to agree to my idea, so don't worry, I won't harass you into anything."

"Like you could." If Arek thought a somewhat handsome face and one of his smiles he liked to throw around would be enough to get him interested he was mistaken. "What do you want?"

"You owe me an answer." Persistent human. Mojo remembered their talk on Noveria, and he wasn't delusional enough to hope that Arek had forgotten about it. Too bad for the human, Mojo didn't feel like talking now, and less like apologizing.

"Later. I'm tired. And you should sleep, too." There would always be a reason for another later, and it was only a matter of time until Arek would finally give up and leave him alone. What did he plan to achieve anyway? He had saved the human's ass, they had worked together, they were still in the same squad and yes, Mojo had decided that it was wiser to play along during the missions. While he saw no reason to admit it aloud, his defiance had been childish. Old habits died hard, bad habits died harder. He'd correct his mistakes. What else did this guy want from him?

"You'll always find a later. No, Mojo, and if you worry about my sleep, you better spit it out, or I spent the next hours wide awake, brooding over why the hell you hate me that much."

Are biotics now able to read minds?! Yo, human. You 're small, pathetic, and your hair's weird, and that it's a kinda nice color doesn't help. And shave, by the Spirits! Besides, I wish I let the phantom kill you! He watched Arek's face for a moment for any change, but he only looked back at him with unchanged, determined curiosity. Okay, I don't wish that it killed you. Better? Anything? Of course not.

There was something about biotics that made him paranoid sometimes, and he almost laughed at his own silly notion. If Arek could read minds, he wouldn't have to pester him with so many annoying questions. So, all what there was left to do was to find the words to explain them.

"Nobody likes the popular kid," he said, and, as though that explained it all, he turned back to his way to his quarter. He should have thought that Arek wouldn't let him get away that easily.

"What the hell, that doesn't even make sense! It's a contradiction of the very meaning of popular!" He hurried to catch up with Mojo, walking next to him, glaring up at him with a frown. Mojo opened his mouth, but clenched his jaws together, processing Arek's words.

"Damn, you're right!" he suddenly burst out, laughing. "Too bad, and I thought it was a good slogan."

"A slogan for what?!"

"Labelling guys like you. But I guess that's still not enough for you? Why am I not surprised." He chuckled when Arek rushed past him and planted himself into Mojo's way, his eyes glowing with blue biotic energy, his lips tightly pressed together.

"Fine, let me try again." His tired mind wandered further back than he wished. He had met guys like Arek Turner before, and he had never enjoyed it. But the first time still stung the most, he refused to remember more about it.

"I know your kind. Not humanity, I mean guys like you. Always smiling, always playing best friend with everyone. Greedy, and never satisfied unless everybody falls to their feet and applauds as soon as you grace a room with your presence." He was getting carried away as he spoke, clear words slurred into a sneer, his head tilted back, and his eyes rolled towards the ceiling. His hand made a dismissive wave towards Arek.

"What the fuck, that's bullshit! Yes, I like it when others like me, but I don't want any standing ovations!" Color shot into Arek's face, his clenched fists were shaking. The biotic glow vanished, leaving an odd mix of anger and sadness in the human's eyes. Smiles could be faked, the sweet and friendly tone of a voice could be faked, as could gestures and, to a degree, body languages. Eyes were the only betrayers, in every face of every species. Mojo was forced to make his decision - either to pretend he didn't see it so he could hold on to his truth, or to admit that this truths had been cracking over the last days, and was about to shatter. If only - if he only had had more time, a few more nights to sleep over all this. More time to get used to the idea that things were different than he had thought, that would have made things so much easier.

"You don't? Sure? And next you're telling me you also don't put up that 'Oh, I'm so fun and nice, nobody will ever suspect me of being an asshole'-act to hide your true nature, and that you're not the kind of guy that wouldn't hesitate to stab everyone around you in the back when it benefits you?" He bent towards Arek, glaring into his eyes, and poked the human's chest.

"Of course not!" Arek called out in desperation and slapped Mojo's hand away, his face whiter than before. The spark of anger was gone from his eyes. For a moment, he looked year older. "I... I can't believe you think that I'd do anything like that. I haven't done or said anything to deserve that, have I? Yeah, I was rude to you, because you pissed me off! But I'm nothing, NOTHING, like what you said! You hear me? That's not me at all!"

"I know..." That was still easier than saying he was sorry. Mojo sighed, rubbing his neck and staring at the wall next to him. "I know," he repeated, taking another deep breath. "Omega, then on Noveria... now with the captain... if I had been right, you'd... I'd have been kicked out of this ship after Omega, or died on Noveria before Crusher could have discharged me."

"So... you're changing your mind? Are you saying that you know that you're wrong? Come on, Mojo, Rani isn't here to translate! This would be a good time for your usual, direct way." He had begun to yell, but quickly lowered his voice. The corridor was still empty, but so close before the end of a shirt it was only a matter of time before the doors opened - if their argument didn't attract curious onlookers anyway.

"Honest mistake on my side. I'm... not always right." The door to his quarter was so close, only a few steps and he could escape from this whole unpleasant conversation. However, he didn't suffer in vain - the tension fell from Arek and there it was again, that smile that Arek so often wore that Mojo still found it difficult to believe it was always real.

"I'll take that as a sorry. But it's really not something nice to hear, or to know that you thought about me like that all this time, when it's far from true. You really owe me, you know? How about a drink, later, when we had some sleep?"

Mojo recognized the metaphorical olive branch he was offered, and took - less metaphorical - a step back.

"Don't misunderstand me, Turner. I was wrong about you being an asshole in disguise, yes. But I didn't say anything about becoming friends. I still don't have much use for bubbly guys like you. You never stop talking, laughing, throwing yourself at others, jumping from conversation to conversation – so damn tiring."

"Oh. You really prefer being the dark, brooding loner, don't you?" Arek sounded so surprised as though he had just made a mind-altering discovery, that Mojo had to bite his own tongue, or he would have laughed out loudly.

"I prefer being in places where I can hear myself think." Like on the roofs of Omega, above the noise, the corruption and the filth. From where he could watch the world unfold in front of his eyes without having to be a part of it, unless he chose otherwise. The beautiful sight, the lights and the colors were a welcome bonus. He missed a place like that on the cruiser.

"But not necessarily alone, yes?"

"Yes." He missed Kader, too, that damn son of a bitch. He hoped he was dead, served him right, after leaving Omega and breaking off all contact after a few emails; being dead would be an acceptable excuse. No, of course Mojo hoped he was all right, but if he was, damn, then he would break every single bone of that bastard. Best friend, sure.

"Try to contact him, or find out if he's dead, if it bothers you that much. Which it does."

"What?" Mojo was pulled back to reality, needing a second to remember that he was standing in the corridor, a door between him and his bed, and a too curious human blocking his way. "You don't read minds, do you?" Haha, very funny! He growled lowly in the back of his throat when Arek laughed.

"Nah, don't worry. Just an educated guess." He grinned, tilting his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "It was written all over your face that you were dwelling on the past, the rest was putting one and one together. And maybe," Arek added with a chuckle, "I'm learning to read turian expressions after all."

"About time." Yes, he knew it was unfair to demand from humans, or most non-turian races, to learn about the subtle changes of a turian's face as quickly as turians learned to understand the body languages of humans. Especially humans like this Arek Turner were so easy to read, it was fun. He might as well announce his emotions, like an elcor. Now, that would really be amusing. Anyway, as wrong as he might have been about certain aspects about Arek's character – he was still right about one thing. Arek was shallow in more than one regard, and seemed to see it as a joke that he didn't bother to pay closer attention to the turians around him, even if he enjoyed their presence, like Meyrani's.

"Yeah, I know. Not my strongest virtue, but I'll try to better myself. For Rani, and if it helps you and me to get somewhat along, the better. Come on, Mojo, give me a chance. We can also have a drink in the mess, it's less crowded and noisy there." Arek was stubborn in his desire to relax the negative tension between them, Mojo had to give him credit for that. He began to fear that he had to prove Arek that he really wasn't the kind of company he hoped for to get rid off him.

"Mojo! Oh, and Arek, too! What a surprise, to see the two of you chatting so amiably." Neither Arek nor Mojo had heard the drell arrive. Barat nodded at the turian, and greeted Arek with an elegant bow. He reached for the human's hand, but Arek crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Hello, Barat, nice to see you." Arek's monotonous reply caught Mojo's attention. Strange, for somebody who behaved like everyone was his best friend, and probably hopped into bed with at least half of them.

"The pleasure is on my side. Had I know you were already back from Noveria I would have reminded you that you still owe me."

"What do I owe you?" Arek took a step back, a lost expression on his face.

"To accept my invitation for dinner. I apologize, I did not wish to confuse you. Forgive me my harmless joke." Barat gave a gentle laugh that almost convinced Mojo, if he didn't know him better. The drell was fun to talk to once in a while; there weren't many snipers on the ship, and Barat was one of the more skilled ones he had known. That made it enjoyable to exchange knowledge about rifles or to brag about their kills, but beyond that – unpleasant. Barat hadn't given him any reason, but there was something about him Mojo didn't trust, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. It wasn't a secret that the drell appreciated, well, certain superficial aspects about Turner, and he had mentioned that he planned to step up his game to charm the human. Arek didn't seem to all too excited about that, quite the opposite - he looked rather unsettled. Mojo could understand that, even if he couldn't explain why. Somehow, he guessed that 'because he's an asshole' wasn't a reason for Arek to avoid somebody. It hadn't, after all, worked for Mojo to keep Arek away.

Well, he had to acknowledge that Arek seemed to have at least a few standards, and he couldn't deny the hint of glee he felt.

Too bad he doesn't care for your advances. Why don't you make a guess who he did offer to have sex with. That, though, didn't change anything about what he thought about the idea.

"Well, it's okay. I'm sorry, I'm just tired today. Let's think about dinner another time, okay?" Arek had found his speech, and the smile in his face looked almost convincing. Mojo was almost sorry for him, he assumed that the later-until-it's-forgotten-strategy wouldn't work well with Barat either.

"Time for me to go to bed. I'm glad things turned out well, Mojo. Let's talk later, yes?" Are grinned at the turian, and, finally, gave the way to the door free.

"Sure," Mojo heard himself reply, groaning at himself. Talking without thinking wasn't a habit he wished to develop. He touched the lock and the door slid open.

"Hm, maybe I should take my chances and go after him. His hips lack the usual swing, a massage should help with that." Barat chuckled after he followed Mojo inside.

"Let him be, he had a hard day." And he's not the only one. He opened his locker and chose a shirt with short sleeves. The chill wasn't gone from his bones yet, but a comfortable warmth filled the well-heated room and the Alliance had provided races who preferred a warmer climate, like turians and drell, with thick duvets. Wearing a sweater when he went to bed wasn't necessary.

"You worry about him? You?! About Arek Turner? Did I hear that right, Mojo?" Barat shoved himself between Mojo and his locker. The turian ignored him – he steeped away and pulled the sweater over his head.

"Oh dear, those are some nasty frostbites on your arms. And is that a bullet wound? And your ribs! Not your lucky day, huh?" The drell followed him, pressing his slightly moist fingertip on the bandage covering Mojo's shoulder.

"You have no idea how lucky." And I'm not going to tell you. Spirits, I swear! If he doesn't fuck off I'll drown him in the kitchen sink at the earliest opportunity! He regretted that he had ever agreed on sharing a drink or two with Barat. He was the kind of guy Mojo only endured under specific circumstances, and being exhausted and hurting wasn't one of those.

"Really? Sounds like a good story to tell. Share it with me over a drink! Later, of course." Barak chuckled, moving over to his own locker and opening it. He took out his rifle, a widow. Nice looking weapon, sweet damage, but too heavy for Mojo's taste, and too slow. Why taking out one target and reload if he could take out up to six targets in the meantime? Barat still doubted that Mojo could do that, but the turian assumed that he would also refuse to believe it if he saw it with his own eyes. The drell only enjoyed Mojo's company because he was convinced to be the better sniper, Mojo was aware of that. If he took that guy serious it would anger him. As it was, to him, this drell was a clown, a pretender, with his big stories and fancy way to talk.

If he had to choose his company for 24 hours, he would prefer his other room mate, the second drell that Arek liked to hang out with so often. That chatterbox and gossip would drive him insane within minutes, but at least that guy didn't put up any airs and graces. Simple and annoying over fake, pretentious and annoying anytime.

"Maybe." He tossed the sweater into his locker and closed the door before it fell out again. Barat gave a woeful sigh, polishing the barrel of his widow with the sleeve of his coat.

"My second rejection in less than 10 minutes. Although Arek's hurt my tender heart more. Say, Mojo, do I have to regard you as my rival? You are aware that I fancy the human." The sweet, amused gentleness was gone from the drell's voice, leaving it harsh and creaking. "I do not value competition in such a matter. If you want to challenge me, keep to headshots and stories from the battlefield."

Mojo found himself caught between the temptation to strangle Barat, or to shove Arek's suggestion into his face. Well, he could do both – but decided on laughing it off and climbing up the ladder to his bed.

"I don't see any ground for competition. Good night." Take that like you want. He fell into his bed and reached for his data pad from underneath one of his pillows, wondering if he should watch the news or a movie while falling asleep.

"Of course there isn't, you hate each other's guts. Or so I hope." Barat chuckled. The slick sweetness was back as though it had never been gone. "Well, there's always a tomorrow, and always a chance for a dinner for two. Now excuse me, my friend. I have a hammer swinging krogan to impress with my skill and my weapon."

"Whatever." Just fuck off! Mojo closed the curtain of his bed, welcoming the dark and silence that surrounded him the second he was separated from the rest of the quarter. He activated the data pad, browsing through his selection of movies while he made himself comfortable. Spirits, if he hated anyone's guts right now, then it were Barat's. That vain snob hadn't spoken that frankly about his interest in Arek before, and Mojo was irritated that it bothered him. He had forgotten for a moment that a krogan had indeed joined the third squad, shortly after they had left Omega, and during that moment, he had suspected Barat of wiping up a quick lie, to cover up for other intentions. Then, to his relief, he remembered the krogan – of course Barat wouldn't miss the chance to brag to a warlord about his qualities as a sniper. Good. If the drell found a new drinking buddy – better! Whoever Barat decides to annoy wasn't any of Mojo's business. On the other hand, nothing was. He had better things to do, like deciding on a movie.

Besides, he's a biotic. When he can take care of himself against troopers and dragoons, he can fight off a damn horny drell. The screen flickered in front of his closing eyes. He should turn up the volume if he wanted to hear what was happening, but before he made up his mind if it really mattered, he had fallen asleep.