The hush that fell over the gallery as Shepard entered brought the tiniest smile to her lips. She quickly studied her surroundings. The crowd was predominantly asari, with a fair number of salarians, and a handful of other aliens. No humans. One turian. Perfect. An asari in catering staff uniform offered her a tray of fluted glasses, which Shepard waved away. Most of the guests had a drink in hand, but the one she was interested in didn't. She wanted a level playing field, and perhaps the decision would draw his attention. It was unlikely, but this game was going to be a challenge, and she needed every possible edge she could get. Drawing Sparatus's attention early would do nothing but help.

The quiet chatter her entrance had interrupted slowly resumed, and after a glance around the gallery, she crossed the large room, silk skirt whispering over her thighs, and heels clicking sharply, to view an angular sculpture that was taller than her by a good measure. It had caught her eye, but mostly she chose that piece because it stood alone and was within the turian Counselor's line of sight.

The staccato sound of her heels on the brushed steel floor cut through the low hum of respectful conversation the rest of the crowd created. She wished she could see how many eyes were on her, and hoped for one specific set in particular. No one would expect to see her here, and she had learned that context was a major factor in whether she was recognized or not. She had faked her invitation, but she had dressed the part so her presence wouldn't be questioned. Her pale blonde hair was swept away from her face and elaborately braided around the crown of her head, and she felt that the short, white dress which left one shoulder bare and sheathed her body in shimmering silk effectively disguised her profession and her identity. The cap sleeve on the other side hid the Alliance tattoo and the recently healed cuts left by Avitus's hand. It was like the designer had made the dress specifically to suit her purposes.

The color she had chosen to wear was flattering on her, but it also had meaning. Most sentient species had static associations with such things, but asari would take the context into account before assigning meaning to the color. At an event like this, it was an invitation or a challenge. Tonight, this dress bordered on offensive, depending on how she conducted herself. She was banking on the fact that humans were usually regarded as crude and backward– generally unaware or uncaring of the customs of other species– to avoid getting thrown out. Most of those present would think nothing of her choice of dress, and if a few did, decorum would demand they keep their disapproval to themselves. She was also counting on the likelihood that Sparatus would be aware of how the asari, particularly the featured artist, would interpret her wardrobe. Of the entire group, she assumed he was the most likely to confront her about it. At the very least, she hoped he would take note of her, maybe scan her identity chip if she was lucky.

The young asari artist being featured couldn't paint and sculpt fast enough to satisfy the demand for her work on Illium, and tonight was her debut on the Citadel. Penephaedra herself was at the heart of the crowd of distinguished guests– most of whom were in attendance merely in the interest of garnering favor with the asari councilor, who was sponsoring the event and was wildly enchanted by the maiden's art. Shepard would have assumed that Sparatus was present to show respect for someone who sat on the Council beside him, but she had recently learned of his fetish for art. Sparatus was here because he was just as taken with Penephaedra as the asari Councilor, if not more.

Shepard turned and moved on to the next piece– this time a painting that was uncharacteristically dark for the collection presented. A delicate red tendril wound through an abstract design that reminded her of an oil slick full of shrapnel, drawing the eye through the painting. It was dull. Honestly, she couldn't see what the fuss was about. She left it behind, heading for a small sculpture that brought her closer to Sparatus.

"Madam," a tense asari voice interrupted, "may I see your invitation, please?"

Shepard arched an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. "Excuse me?"

"You see, no, ah... humans... were given invitations," the attendant began explaining, clearly daunted by Shepard's reaction. "And none of the purchased tickets were paid for by..."

"You're right, I didn't purchase a ticket," Shepard interrupted. Shepard smiled mildly and waited.

"If you'll please come with me, Ma'am, you have to leave. This is a private showcase."

"Here's my confirmation number," Shepard stated, activating her bluewire and sending the authorization code– faked, of course– to the usher's 'tool. "It was a gift." Along with the string of numbers, she also sent her ID, just for good measure. She wasn't disappointed.

The asari blinked in surprise, "You're... the hero of the Blitz? My apologies, Commander. Your name wasn't on the guest list, we had no idea..."

"Which was the point, after all," Shepard said, a polite and only slightly forced smile on her lips. "Are we done here?"

"I...," the asari began, her eyes flicking over Shepard's dress, a small frown appearing on her face. "Yes, of course. If you'd like to purchase any of the art, please inform an attendant, or Penephaedra if you wish to speak to the artist in person."

Shepard nodded and turned her attention to the sculpture on the pedestal before her. It was long, flattish, slim and shining silver. It reminded her of a dagger. And of a turian phallus, though it was on the small side to be proportional. She liked it. And it was probably one of the cheapest pieces in the show. Shepard studied it a moment longer, then turned and caught the eye of an attendant. The asari nodded, then made a note on a datapad she held. Shepard's omni-tool chimed, but before she could confirm the sale, a light, clicking tread approached. Shepard smiled and pretended not to notice Sparatus's approach.

"Do you like ships?" his purring, multi-tonal voice mildly enquired.

"What?" Shepard asked, glancing over her shoulder to face him. "Oh, this," she said, gesturing to the sculpture. She cocked her head to the side and made a show of inspecting the art. "This looks like a ship to you?" she asked, wondering at his choice to approach her now. Maybe it was a good sign.

"What else?" he asked, also studying the small sculpture.

"Some kind of knife, perhaps. But look at the title– 'Vibitus.' That's a turian name, isn't it? I suppose it must be a ship."

"Huh. No, that's not a ship name, that's... Spirits. Miss, I believe you've just purchased a representation of... certain anatomy of Penephaedra's former lover."

Shepard feigned surprise. "Well. I suppose you have a better base of comparison than I do, but... isn't it a little small?" Sparatus looked away and turned one foot outward– declining to engage in the conversation.

"You know," Shepard began, "it isn't reasonable to hold me responsible for starting an awkward conversation. I thought it was a dagger or something. You didn't have to tell me what it is," Shepard stated, baiting the turian Councilor. "And now I'll never be able to see it as a knife or a ship again," she sighed, activating her omni-tool and cancelling the sale. "Pity. I do like ships."

"You're not buying it?"

"It's a bit over-priced for a steel dildo, don't you think? And I still say the proportions are off."

"You should look at some of the other sculptures, then. I think if you don't buy something soon, Tevos and Penephae are going to have you thrown out, invitation or not. They were upset with the usher who failed to escort you out, but Tevos doesn't want a scene."

"Do they hate humans so much?" she asked, her eyes on the phallic sculpture. She hoped to make him squirm a little, and it seemed to be working. His mandibles were fluttering.

"You're wearing white to an art exhibit," he pointed out. "That's an affront to an asari artist."

Shepard allowed herself to smirk. "Oh, is it?"

"You knew," Sparatus accused, his mandibles flickering to show his confusion. He also shifted his weight forward slightly, indicating a hot temper. "Why are you here, then?" he demanded.

Shepard turned her head to the side, a turian gesture that said she didn't desire a conflict. "It's only a comment on the paintings, which, quite frankly, are garbage." She met his eyes once more. "The sculptures– most of them, anyway– are another matter."

"And what do you like about her sculptures?"

"It would be difficult to generalize about such varied works, don't you think?" Shepard lightly asked. "The thing they share is the craftsmanship, though. Most of them are unimpressive until you realize how she made them. But even poor Vibitus must have taken months and months to grind down and polish to such a lovely shine. And there's not a tool mark anywhere on him. Choosing to carve blocks of steel like that..." Shepard shook her head and trailed off. The sculptures truly were unimpressive except in how they were made, but she suspected that's the only reason Sparatus was present. If he'd ever purchased a painting, she hadn't been able to track the sale, but he owned hundreds of sculptures. Shepard wondered where he kept them all.

"It speaks of deep dedication and determination," the turian said admiringly.

"Or fathomless boredom," Shepard joked, lifting her hand and raising her two smallest fingers to be certain Sparatus understood she wasn't serious. He clicked his talons and flicked his wrist, acknowledging her attempt at humor but making it clear he didn't appreciate it.

"You're a tough audience, even for a turian, Councilor Sparatus," Shepard said lightly, a smile on her lips. "I suppose I should hurry along and see if I can manage to avoid getting thrown out of here before I'm ready to go."

"I didn't introduce myself," Sparatus said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Shepard smiled brightly at him, "You didn't need to, we've met. I'm Valor Shepard," she said, placing one foot behind the other and inclining her head. It was an informal way to introduce herself– practically intimate– and she'd never used her real name for a future target before. It made her heart beat faster in excitement. The stakes had never been so high, and she was looking forward to a long, difficult game before she walked away the winner.

"Shepard?" the turian Councilor snapped, raking his eyes over her. He didn't recognize her. "You're Lieutenant Shepard– the C-Sec warrant officer?" he asked sharply.

Shepard hid her surprise at the venom in his tone. This was going to be more challenging than she anticipated. "Well, tonight I'm off duty. I'd prefer Valor, or Val."

"Indeed. Good evening, Officer. I hope you find something more to your liking."

"I liked this one very much, even knowing what it is, but as I said, the proportions are off," she said with a wink. Even odds that he didn't know what it meant, but she was certain he'd look it up. If she couldn't entice him, she'd settle for provoking him. She had time.

"Whatever your reasons for being here tonight, I believe you've made a huge mistake, Lieutenant."

"Oh?" Shepard asked. Sparatus's candor was promising, and the longer he spoke with her, the longer he was being exposed to the blend of pheromone-laden perfume she wore, in combination with her own altered biochemistry. It wouldn't make him like her, but if she was lucky, it might trigger a biological reaction to her presence. Even if it didn't, it was sure to add more weight to their interaction– he'd probably think of her whenever he was reminded of Penephaedra, possibly whenever he thought of his art collection, since expanding it was the reason for his attendance tonight. There were a lot of possible associations, and she still wasn't ready to rule out the possibility of success after only one meeting. He had approached her, after all, and he was still talking.

"Your superiors are holding you up as a shining example of what humanity has to offer," Sparatus stated.

"That was their choice. And anyone who thinks that of me should know I'm grossly over-trained for police work, yet here I am."

"Well, perhaps they chose poorly if the best of you is so short-sighted."

Shepard tilted her head to the side and planted one hand on her hip, abandoning her attempt to adopt turian body language. There were limits to what she could put up with. She didn't know the exact reason she had been fed into C-Sec by the Alliance, but she assumed it was as much to give her a chance to develop some contacts on the Citadel as it was to get her noticed. But noticed by whom? The Council? That held interesting possibilities. If she was jeopardizing something important for personal pursuits, she needed to re-prioritize. "Are you that offended?"

Sparatus rocked back and flicked his wrist, dismissing her concern. "No, I happen to agree with your assessment of Penephae's paintings, but making such a public and pointed declaration was tactless. Tevos is incensed. It won't aid your career."

"Then I'll have to address that. The best humanity has to offer is anything but tactless, Councilor," she said, trying to keep the smirk off her face. If only he knew. She tipped her head back a little and snapped her fingers– the closest she could manage to clicking talons. It was an informal, but respectful farewell. After a moment's hesitation, Sparatus returned the gesture. As she turned away, she wondered if he would seek her out again or if she would have to initiate their next conversation. Even without glancing over her shoulder, she could feel his eyes on her. Shepard was willing to bet that he would approach her again, and soon.

Sparatus watched the human woman leave, discreetly, he hoped. He never would have guessed she was the Lieutenant Shepard he so frequently heard about from Executor Pallin. The woman looked too pampered and soft to be an effective peace-keeper, let alone a highly-trained soldier. Perhaps that was why she was so effective. He hoped she wouldn't make an issue of the fact that he hadn't recognized her. It was difficult to tell humans apart, even the females who were at least more distinctive than the males, but admitting that would damage his political image. Shepard was arguably the most notable human currently on the Citadel. If she took a low opinion of him, it wouldn't matter too much, but it would be a nuisance if some reporter got wind of it.

Shepard moved out of his field of vision– assuming he didn't want to turn his head and make it obvious he was watching her. He turned his attention back to the art in front of him and realized with distaste that he was still planted in front of Vibitus. That was fine. It was time to move on, anyway. He wanted to see how Shepard planned to soothe Tevos. Unfortunately, the sculpture nearest Shepard's destination was the one he had been looking at just before he approached her. Flicking his wrist, he decided that was where he wanted to be anyway. Who would think anything of it if he revisited a display?

Sparatus positioned himself so he could discreetly watch Shepard as she worked her way to the center of the crowd surrounding Penephaedra. It was a pity he couldn't hear her better, but it would have to be enough to see the exchange unless he wished to make an excuse to speak with Tevos.

Finally, Shepard reached her goal. Tevos shot her a stern scowl, but stood aside for Penephaedra. The artist was tense and clearly upset– her eyes kept flicking away from Shepard's face and down to her dress. White like a blank canvas. It was usually interpreted as a statement that the wearer was unmoved by the artist's work– an invitation to leave an impression. A very bold move on Shepard's part, and he was no longer of the opinion that she didn't understand and mean every nuance of the situation, excepting, perhaps, Tevos's attachment to Penephaedra and this event. It was possible that the asari Councilor didn't know who Shepard was, and Sparatus certainly wasn't going to tell her, but Shepard's brazen approach would prompt Tevos to look into the human's identity. He watched, convinced the human wasn't going to be able to salvage the situation with Tevos.

But Shepard ignored the Councilor and focused on the artist. Shepard spoke with animated gestures, and Penephaedra's eyes widened, then she smiled and laughed. Tevos relaxed, but looked no less perturbed, though her ire seemed to be shifting from the lieutenant to the artist at her side. Penephaedra's tension melted away and she happily conversed with the human, though her eyes still occasionally drifted away from Shepard's face. Curiosity got the better of him, and he abandoned the sculpture he stood beside, working his way toward Tevos. No one would question that, except perhaps Shepard if she was half as canny as he was beginning to think she must be.

"...I just couldn't when he told me. I hope you understand. It's a beautiful piece, but a very pathetic specimen, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, no need to explain, I know exactly what you mean, Valor. That was the whole point, actually," the artist said with a mischievous smile that reflected Shepard's.

The human sobered. "He also mentioned that I might have offended you."

"Oh?" Penephaedra asked, feigning ignorance.

"I just wanted to get your attention," Shepard confessed. "My cultural encyclopedia was apparently drawing from some rather antiquated sources."

"What a relief," Penephaedra sighed. "I was mortified. I suppose I should call security and tell them not to throw you out," the artist said with a devilish smirk as she glanced to Tevos at her side.

"Please do!" Shepard exclaimed, looking alarmed. "I haven't gotten to see a tenth of the show, yet, and my one purchase attempt was an utter disappointment. It's been an honor to speak with you. Thank you for giving me a little of your time, Penephaedra."

"It's Penephae, please. Valor, could I possibly entice you to model for me? I haven't done figure studies in such a long time, and never humans, but I have to admit that you intrigue me. You're a decorated soldier, a hero, but you carry yourself with such poise and grace. Now that I know who you are, I can see the tells of a military life, but it's blended with such refinement. It seems like a paradox to me."

"Send me a message and we can discuss that. Are you certain you're not rising to my unintentional challenge, Penephae?"

Penephaedra laughed, "Perhaps I am. I suppose those old codices might have been right after all– I'm finding the experience of being challenged holds a delightful savor. I hope you'll indulge me."

The human reached out and smoothly caressed the inside of the artist's forearm, then lifted Penephaedra's hand to her lips and placed a kiss on pale blue fingertips. "Send me a message, Penephae," Shepard repeated. Judging by how the artist's cheeks and neck darkened, and how wide Tevos's eyes had become, the human had absolutely succeeded.

Sparatus hid his amusement. Perhaps this human would be worth getting to know a little better. She had proven more entertaining and intelligent than any other member of her species he'd met.