Chapter 5: Settling in
Jack was seated on one of the bar stools of the Dark Star Lounge for a while now. She was going through her third, maybe fourth bottle of batarian ale already. A bulky man came and rested himself next to her, leaning heavily on the bar. He was huge enough to pass for a krogan, if not for the lack of a headplate. He had fashioned his hair in some sort of a Mohawk, he wore a grey alliance shirt and dark blue alliance pants. A dog tag hang from his neck.
Hey, Lola, he prompted, admiring the ink around her midriff. Jack looked at him out of the corner of her eye and downed a shot that had managed to make its way to her.
The fuck do you want, Pelvis CuntThrust, she mocked, slamming the shot glass on the bar.
Don't be like that, Lola. You looked lonely sitting here, drinking without a partner. Thought you'd appreciate the company, the man retorted, clearly not daunted by Jack's remark.
Thanks for the sentiment, she nodded, but my ass is already taken, Girth ManMeat, she continued to tease him. The man seemed to be amused with Jack's knack for finding full names based on his manhood, as he cracked a smile at his new name. It's specter property, she concluded.
Specter property, huh? he started, before the realization hit him. That made the smile slowly disappear from his face and eventually get replaced by a rather serious look. Wait, human specter? You mean Shepard? Oh, shit, you're Jack, the man exclaimed.
His reaction seemed to interest Jack, especially since he knew who she was. Looks like you have me in a disadvantage there, as I don't have a clue who the fuck you are, Squirt ThickWad.
Listen, don't tell Shepard this ever happened. I'll ... I'll leave you to your drinking, OK? said the man, panicking and then getting lost in the dancing crowd. Jack shrugged it off. She had seen tons of weirder shit for this to even start to register.
Back in the Normandy, the group was starting to split up. Shepard had left to surrendered himself to C-Sec not too long ago. Garrus was having a chat with a few members of the crew in the CIC, his few belongings already packed in a duffel bag, slumped over his shoulder. Zaeed stood across from him with Jacob and Miranda forming a little rectangle, between the four of them.
At least Anderson was kind enough to let you crash in his pad until this thing blows over, Jacob noted.
Not being able to return to the Normandy is going to be a problem, but my bug is only short range, so I will have to stay in close proximity to C-Sec either way, Tali contributed, her voice resounding from the Normandy's com.
How's the leg, Tali? Miranda asked politely.
I still can't put any weight on it, but Chakwas said it should only trouble me for a couple more days. The infection lasted much less than I expected it, thanks to Mordin's cure. Oh, by the way, Garrus?
Yes, Tali?
Maybe when my leg heals, I could drop by Anderson's apartment and we could have a little sparring match. You know, test your reach and my flexibility? she asked innocently. A look of utter shock was painted on Garrus' face, his mouth left half open and, seemingly, not breathing. It was all quiet for a moment between the talking group, till Tali spoke again. Garrus? she asked, simply.
He can't talk now, love. He's too busy sweating like a salarian whore in a batarian prison, Zaeed described colorfully. Tali could be heard laughing over the comm.
I'm sorry, but after Jack told me the story, I couldn't help myself, she excused herself.
Garrus lowered his head and chortled. You got me good this time, kid. Then, he raised it again and addressed the group in front of him. Well, I guess that's it. Make sure the ship returns in one piece and tell Joker not to take it space drifting, OK?
Will do, Garrus, Jacob replied with a smile.
Take care, Miranda added, laying a comforting hand on his arm.
Give that bastard a piece of my goddamn mind, Zaeed cheered.
Garrus gave one last nod to the group and turned to leave. Samara was already waiting by the airlock, probably lost in her own thoughts. Samara, he shouted, grabbing her attention, let's go.
How bad does a Salarian whore sweat? Jacob wondered.
I've seen you work out, Taylor, and you don't sweat nearly enough, Zaeed sneered and left for his quarters.
I don't know what's worst. That he watched me work out or the fact that he knows how much I sweat? Jacob asked Miranda.
I don't know, she answered him, but he's right about one thing.
Oh, yeah? What's that? he gave her a meaningful look.
You don't sweat nearly enough, she replied with a smile and left Jacob behind too.
What the hell, man, he exclaimed, frustrated.
Shepard inspected his new quarters. He wasn't expecting much more than the bare minimum. Bailey had promised to make his prison stay as comfortable as possible, all five minutes of it, he had said, jokingly, trying to cheer him up. Well, it had been five minutes and he was still here. He slumped on the cell's cot and left to stare at the wall across him. He was all alone here. No EDI invading his privacy, no trying to catch Miranda reading his emails, no Joker being obnoxious, no Garrus, he sighed, calibrating, no Legion doing the robot, no Tali going keelah this and bosh'tet that, no Mordin singing, no Samara meditating, no Jacob doing pushups, no Zaeed being the only one to make it out alive, no Thane retelling his memories as if you were there, no Grunt to have food contests with, no Kasumi stealing his stuff, but the one he missed the most, was Jack telling him he was a dumbass. And it really didn't take him that long to realize he was one.
All the other times he had gone down to each of his crew members' quarters just to chat or sort through whatever was troubling them. For once, he told himself, I'd like for someone to visit me instead.
*Yes, that is James Vega trying to hit on Jack