So after consulting with the concierge and a short taxi ride after, Shepard found herself in the lobby of a public bathhouse.
They were taking drink orders at the front desk.
Shepard was truly not expecting that. But hey, maybe oil setting did take as long as a drink, so why not? There were levo-friendly drinks on offer for the myriad of galactic visitors that passed through Cipritine regularly and she ordered one beer. To start.
She was a little perturbed to notice men getting into line also for the changing rooms.
And there goes their shirts.
Okay.
Right.
She glanced around and noted that none of the women were making a fuss as they stripped down also, putting their clothes into readily available bins and taking them to another desk, where their IDs were scanned and the bins put away for safe keeping.
There wasn't much point in staring at the floor and she was probably just as strange looking to the regulars as they were to her, so Shepard casually kept her gaze level as they got into another line. Ahead of her, turians were receiving their choice of oil (with different scents? Viscosities? Shepard couldn't read the menu), their drink if they did order one, a towel, and a scraping tool.
So Shepard kept her expression neutral as people chatted in the nude around her about normal, mundane subjects that did not coincide with her inner observations.
That turian armor added a lot of bulk to the average turian, because wow, they were all rather willowy and skinny up close and personal. Especially their arms.
That yes, actually, turian men kept their junk packaged internally, which made the whole situation more... dignified.
Or at least, not likely to cause her to burst into incident-causing laughter.
After she got her beer and cleaning supplies, she followed the other patrons to the actual bathing areas. The facility had a number of large rooms available, all alike in layout. The perimeter had alcoves with benches. The central area had more seating that you could lounge on while you waited for the oil to set and there were little tables scattered around to put your drinks down.
Shepard found a free lounging chair and after checking what others were doing, put a towel down first before sitting and taking a sip of her beer.
There were some people seriously multitasking by drinking, reading from datapads, with earbuds on and rubbing oil on themselves.
There was a group of women who had pushed a couple of the little tables together and were giving each other what looked like manicures while gossiping.
And there were some who simply seemed to be completely asleep. They rather looked like a row of turtles on a log.
Shepard put her beer down and squeezed out a dollop of oil onto her palm. She supposed she could start with her feet first.
"...Hello."
Shepard looked up. There was a lone stranger standing a respectable distance away (not that that helped with his height. She had to lift her chin so that she wasn't staring right at his crotch).
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"No. But. Ah, I'm sure you could, because you're Commander Shepard, and you've helped so many people-" the stranger managed to stop his babbling. "...It's a real honor to meet you. That's what I mean."
"Sure. It's nice to meet you too," she graciously offered her hand out. "Mr..."
"I'm Tysten Juncus," he shook her hand. "I'll leave you to your bathing, Commander."
She watched him go. He was apparently with a group of other turian men, obviously his friends who had been watching their exchange with some interest from their spot at one of the alcoves at the perimeter of the room. Judging from some laughing and ribbing as he neared, he was probably dared into introducing himself. Shepard resumed rubbing oil on herself after rolling her eyes. Boys and their boy behavior.
tbc