[ 2 :: Great Conversationalists ]

Morinth tracked the stray looks shot in her direction once the bartender had delivered her message. Soldier Girl was doing a good job of keeping them subtle, but her caution was obvious, even at a distance- but so, too, was her interest. The asari could almost see the wheels turning, tried to imagine the myriad questions that were pondered in the wake of the offer: who had sent the note?; was it worth pursuing?; would she be disappointed, or be disappointing, if she followed up on it?

There was a brief exchange with the bartender, then. That much was expected; a trained service member would be stupid to go with a simple invitation in a place like this. As such, it came as no surprise when the hesitance continued, even as Soldier Girl looked down at the drink she'd been given. Bemusement, then, that someone had paid enough attention to order bourbon, that someone had cared to notice the detail. And there, another look cast in the direction of the booth her observer sat in, caution overridden by surprise.

And there was that spark of interest. Good.

The indirect approach was one Morinth had considered to be a possible failing route, all told, but to her mind, it wouldn't do to simply ambush a trained soldier. It would have set of all kinds of warning signs, started their interaction out on an unnecessarily hostile tone, if years of combat had trained in instinctual triggers in the woman, as often it did. This way, there might still be some caution present, but it would be less so than sparking a sudden rise of adrenaline.

Beyond that, this method provided an unspoken compliment. Soldier or no, the woman was still the sum of instinct underneath all the cognitive discipline. Male or female, a subtle reminder of being attractive, aesthetically pleasing in spite of being surrounded by superficial vanity, could soften targets surprisingly well, if it was played correctly. Morinth hoped that this did the same; set the stage for what she eventually planned to act on. Really, something about a hard-bitten warrior opening up enough to show common vulnerability, coaxed to the surface regardless of how little of it was present, that sent a small thrill through her. Not too unlike the thrill she got when she saw the woman begin to approach, apparently determined to follow through on the silent offer that had been made.

The approach itself was one of confidence; it was when she saw Morinth in the flesh, without a veil of distance and shadow to cloud all the details, that she registered surprised. She hadn't expected what she saw, undoubtedly; had expected someone ugly, perhaps, or another soldier. Maybe even a rival.

"Thanks for the drink," Soldier Girl offered, once she'd gotten over her surprise. "But I have to admit- in places like this, I'm a little suspicious of charity."

An unspoken question- not exactly polite, but close enough. Blunt, though; that, Morinth could appreciate.

"You just looked like you could use a change of scenery," Morinth said, with that in mind, a calm smile on her face, her posture relaxed, open; kept her elbows as far from her torso as possible, to keep from looking guarded, doing little to protect vitals, giving the signal that this was a place the woman could relax. "And, just so you're not thinking it's still an act of charity- as it turns out, I could use some company."

"The night's been that rough, has it?" Soldier Girl replied, smiling lopsidedly; an attempt at levity.

It was good to hear that, even in uncertainty, those words weren't stilted; a positive sign, if ever there was one, even if the humor was rife with implied self-deprecation. Modest.

"I could ask you the same thing," Morinth said. "You've barely spoken to anyone since you got here. Had plenty of dancers looking your way, too- but you just passed them by."

"I take it that's not normal?"

Morinth chuckled, her smile broadening. "Says a lot about you," she said. "Most people just see the aesthetic. Don't mind a dull conversation provided they get something out of it later."

"Some of them could be great conversationalists," Soldier Girl offered dryly. "You never know until you talk to them."

"On their off-hours, maybe," Morinth replied, returning the easy smile she was offered. "It's a standard rule to keep conversation light and breezy. Apparently, onlookers don't like it when the strippers they're watching are more intelligent than they are. Changes the balance of power."

Soldier Girl paused- and couldn't hold back an amused smile, at that. "That's really a rule here?"

"Of course. Hard to objectify someone while they're telling you about their latest paper on theoretical physics. Well... I suppose a salarian might tell you differently, but most of the clientele wouldn't."

The soldier chuckled, genuine amusement in her expression, some of that surprise sneaking back into the look in her eyes. "I suppose I hadn't looked at it that way before," she conceded. "Though, that sort of theme might be worth looking into."

"It'd be novel, at least," Morinth said, allowing her smile to broaden again; she was already going above and beyond what Soldier Girl expected. "So, what's your name, anyway?" she asked, canting her head to the side. "Mine's Morinth."

The woman glanced down at her drink, offering a smile that bordered on apologetic. "Let's just go with 'Jane' for now."

Arching her eyebrows, Morinth said, "Guess that means I won't be hearing your real name anytime soon."

Soldier Girl shrugged, and said, "Can't blame me for being cautious."

"I suppose not," Morinth replied, in no way interested in hiding her curiosity. "It's a pleasure to meet you, regardless."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, too," Soldier Girl said, offering a smile that bordered on bemused. "Like you said- a decent conversation was the last thing I was expecting to find when I came in here."

[...]

And that much was the god's-honest truth.

Samara had said Morinth would be charming, might even bear a family resemblance- but the asari was sharp, intelligent, and not nearly as superficial as Shepard had assumed she'd be. More to the point, she was a dead ringer for her mother. If the ornamental plates Samara wore on her face had been present, there was some question as to whether or not the two could be told apart, provided Morinth didn't speak. Their voices and manner were disparate enough to tell the difference.

But appearances alone had worried her, to some degree. Her attraction to the matriarch was one she'd taken pains to keep under wraps- and here, she was in a position where that attraction could be put to use. By her, and, arguably, by Morinth. As it was, even without any fancy tricks, the asari- Ardat-Yakshi, she reminded herself- was incredibly easy to talk to. Her manner, her demeanor, wasn't that of a seasoned killer, or of excessive vanity; she was personable, with a solid sense of humor, and wasn't at all ignorant to military matters. But even as Shepard repeated to herself the word adaptability, she had to admit: she was enjoying herself.

On the Normandy, there was so much emphasis on the mission, on dire situations that they constantly found themselves in, that casual conversation that was genuinely engaging seemed hard to come by. There was never a chance to relax, and simply talk- save for those few moments of sharing a brandy with Chakwas.

And really, was it really such a bad thing to enjoy this?

True, they were setting Morinth up, and true, the evening was going to end badly... but for the time being, Shepard could only go with what Samara had told her. To be natural. To be up-front. To maintain Morinth's interest and, above all, to win enough favor to be taken home.

So- there was no harm in it. Was there? Morally- ethically- there was. But that much, she could set aside, rationalize, Samara's words echoing through her mind every time she found herself in doubt, found herself questioning:

Nef is only one of hundreds, Shepard- maybe thousands, with many mothers, fathers, sons and daughters to mourn their passing. Let them stand as proof that what we're doing here tonight is a matter of necessity- remind yourself of them, if ever you find your conviction lacking.

Nef had been won over, too. Nef had been spoken to in all the right ways, given all the right cues. And while Samara had seemed to suggest that perhaps, those cues would be put upon Shepard, instead, the opposite seemed to be happening. There was no talk of art, no talk of music, or drugs, or vids... it was just simple conversation. But then, the more she drank, the more it began to tilt towards personal topics, subtle at first- but by the time Shepard noticed that fact, they were too close to an end-game to pull back.

"I look at you and I see a lot of exhaustion," Morinth was saying gently, canting her head to the side. "Someone who could use a moment to relax, or just a moment to breathe."

"That description could apply to just about anyone in here," Shepard replied, unable to keep her natural caution from overriding her immediate agenda.

"These people know when to breathe," Morinth said. "Know relaxation's the only thing they can ask for. May not be healthy, but it's something."

"Are you saying I don't know how to do either?"

"You're trained not to," Morinth replied. "And considering what you told me about some of the merc groups around here, you've got plenty of airtight reasons to keep your guard up. But it does get exhausting, doesn't it? Using the battlefield as a way to unwind, knowing that when it's gone, you'll be restless again. Looking for ways to let go."

"Take it you've got some suggestions for how to do that," Shepard said dryly; didn't need to let the asari know that she'd just hit upon a sore point- even if she seemed to know anyway.

"I do," Morinth said, smile broadening into an unspoken suggestion. "Well... Assuming you play your cards right. But the way you're going, I doubt you'll have much trouble with that."

Shepard chuckled. "The way you say it, you'd think it's already a done deal."

"Would you like it to be?"

Was that her 'in?' The invitation? Or was she reading the situation wrong? Samara had said, be up front, don't be coy... but, in the end, bluntness was the only thing Shepard could think to approach that with.

"I haven't made up my mind yet," she said gently.

"Maybe you'd like me to make it up for you," Morinth suggested, letting her voice mirror what she'd communicated previously in a look; gentle, sultry... enough to make Shepard wonder if that was the warning sign.

...Or, alternatively, wonder if she didn't in some way find the idea genuinely appealing.

"Maybe I would," she said, offering the truth in spite of her misgivings.

"Just a 'maybe?'" she opted for, training her voice to offer a note of sympathy. "I'm used to soldiers having passion- fire. I'd hate to think someone as vibrant as you is so beaten into the ground that you've lost that... that command has gotten you so tightly wound that you can't let go of a little control sometimes."

"Like you said," Shepard replied, shrugging. "Maybe I'm just tired." She eased back in her seat, but paused before taking a drink, looking over the rim of the glass curiously, some of Morinth's words finally reaching her. Setting the glass down, she said, "Wait a minute... how did you know I was part of command?"

You are the biggest idiot that ever lived, she thought irritably, though she at least gave herself points for fighting off the wince that followed. Of course she didn't know. Thankfully, Morinth didn't seem to notice- or didn't seem to mind in the least that the slip had been made.

"You have a way about you," she said, simply enough. "You met eyes with that krogan at the bar like you were used to talking down subordinates; got those turians to leave with a few simple orders. Not many people can do that. The ones that try tend to leave this place in a body bag- but you? You walked away unscathed." A beat. Then, "And just how often do you need to be on your guard, anyway? How often do you have to keep up appearances for the people serving under you? For the people you meet here, and everywhere else?"

Too often, she wanted to say. Much as she was loathe to admit it, the questions hit home in a way she wasn't prepared for- and that much, she was certain was coming through in her expression.

"You don't have to be that way with me," Morinth said, adopting a low, lilting tone. "And you deserve a way out. The question is- would you take it, if I offered?" Easing in closer as Shepard took a drink of her bourbon, the asari draped an arm behind her shoulders and said, "Would you give me the chance to see what you're like when you finally unwind?" in a silken tone that was more sultry than anything she'd ever heard.

And had more of an effect than she'd anticipated.

[...]

That faint shiver along the woman's shoulders was enough of an indicator to Morinth that she'd gotten her proverbial foot in the door- but there was still a hint of apprehension threatening to slam the brakes on this nascent liaison. It was expected; rarely did someone with such heavily-asserted self control come apart at the seams, even in light of the most inviting requests.

"But something's still holding you back, isn't it?" Morinth continued, tempering her voice to try and mitigate what could be seen as a challenge, or insult. "You can tell me if you're not interested, you know. I won't take offense..."

"Oh, trust me," Soldier Girl offered hastily, "it's not you. It's-" She paused; seemed to realize moments after that she'd confirmed Morinth's initial assertion, her eyes turning down to her drink in an attempt to off-set the

"It's-?" Morinth prompted, after a brief silence.

Turning her gaze back up to Morinth's, a smile that could almost be called sheepish tugging at the corners of her mouth, Soldier Girl said, "Let's just say this isn't... typical- for me."

"You weren't getting much out of 'typical' before you came over here," Morinth observed, pressing the advantage she'd been offered once those words had trailed off entirely. "I mean... I understand having a routine. In a life like yours, it's necessary. But it gets tiring, doesn't it? Having to play along with the whole 'lonely at the top' cliche'?"

The repetition was a risk, but she'd seen the look of agreement in the soldier's eyes when it had been posited the first time- the desperation to agree, even as she looked as though she might bite back out of sheer irritation for having any part of her laid bare. This time, it worked out for the better, the woman's eyes raising to meet Morinth's own, visibly unwilling to confirm or deny- but it wasn't the nod to exhaustion that got under Soldier Girl's skin. It was the addendum: lonely.

Tired and lonely. A perfect combination.

"I don't think I could be in that position," Morinth continued, as the silence went on. "I don't think I could handle it. Takes a certain kind of person to be able to go through life like that, knowing their every move is being watched... always having to set an example. Makes me wonder how you manage it."

"This is the part where I say 'a nightly glass of scotch and a weekly date with my right hand,' isn't it?" Soldier Girl replied dryly- words that could have easily been read as sarcasm were it not for her immediate move to take a sip of her drink.

A means of obscuring her expression; backpedaling.

"That depends," Morinth replied, calmly drawing her fingers over the woman's wrist. "Is it the truth?"

Another brief silence settled between them- long enough for Soldier Girl to smile lopsidedly, acknowledging that she'd already given an answer, and say, "Maybe."

"Just 'maybe?'"

"Alright, so-" the soldier cleared her throat gently, glancing away as she took another sip of her drink, allowing for a brief pause before she continued: "-maybe it's a little closer to the truth than I'd like it to be."

"So. Twice a week, then?"

Forced to lower her drink to keep from laughing into it, Soldier Girl's eyebrows raised as she turned her gaze back to the asari, a broad, genuinely amused smile on her face. "If that's what you'd like to think," she said, raising her glass to take the aborted sip.

She was taking a lot more of those; attempting to cover over an embarrassing admittance by catching up with enough alcohol to compensate, perhaps? Retroactively giving herself the excuse? Didn't matter... it was enough to go on for now.

"I would, actually," Morinth said, carefully drawing down the note of humor in her tone, altering the pacing of her speech just enough to inject the sultry lilt she'd caught the woman's attention with before. "It's quite a visual. You, alone... letting your hand wander down your body once you're sure no one's looking, seeing your breathing get tense, staggered, even as you stop to wonder if you should let yourself go, or hold out for one more night..." Raising her free hand, she gently traced the backs of her fingers over the sharp angle of the soldier's jaw, indulging in the mix of unacknowledged need and apprehension her words and actions had inspired; adopted a delicate smile, one she was careful to keep well away from impressions of sympathy, or pity. "You're wondering the same thing right now," she continued gently, leaning in just a little, letting her voice drop to sweeten the implied offer, "aren't you? If it's safe to let go just a little bit more... if anyone's around to see what's beneath the facade- what's beneath these scars..."

There, Morinth leaned in, just enough to capture Soldier Girl's lips in a kiss, the contact brief, teasing; a promise of what was to come. She was rewarded with an audible exhale upon her retreat, catching sight of the slightly knit brow, the faintly parted lips, the partially lidded eyes that spoke entirely of desire.

"There'll be no one but me to see it," Morinth said gently, raising her thumb to lightly tease at the woman's lower lip, as if to artificially prolong that kiss. "All you have to do is take a chance- and try something a little different."

"You make it sound a lot easier than it actually is," the soldier offered, upon regaining herself, reigning in that expression just slightly- though the breathless quality in her voice said enough on its own. "And... a lot more interesting than anything I do when I'm on my own."

"That's the point, isn't it?"

Soldier Girl let out a light chuckle, at that. "No, I mean- what you described. Whatever you think I do alone, trust me... the reality might be a little disappointing by comparison."

"I doubt that," Morinth replied, the hand that had come to a halt along the woman's neck doubling back to trace the hints of scarring along an otherwise unblemished face. "Just treat this like every other risk you've taken," the implication, paired with the gesture, nearly causing her quarry to shy, "and remember: no one else is watching. You do that, and you'll have a hard time disappointing me."

[...]

As regrettable as the glass-of-scotch aside had been, knee-jerk though the response was, Shepard was surprised to find that it- worked. Surprised, all the more, by the asari's keen interest once it was stated, and the words that came after. Had- anyone been bold enough to speak to her like that during a first meeting? And done it without reeking of beer, or bravado? There were plenty who'd seemed to want to at one point or another, but had there been anyone she legitimately wanted to hear it from?

She knew the answer to that already. The subject Morinth was unwittingly touching on as she spoke- the reminder that there was someone watching- the name that rose to the surface when her mind rebelled against the notion of following through on the tawdry promises laced throughout the woman's responses: Samara. Samara, who would witness everything that was going to take place tonight; whose very manner, at times, seemed to exude a kind of practiced sexuality she claimed to have left behind in her maiden years. Samara, whose face was so plainly echoed in the face of her daughter-

Her daughter.

The words were the equivalent of a cold shower whenever she considered where this encounter was supposed to go, an unwanted reminder that rose to the surface every time Morinth hit a weak point. But Samara had said this was a risk, hadn't she? That this could happen? That intimacy was the point? Didn't that, in many ways, give tacit permission- if not a direct order- to follow those cues? To indulge, in order to carry out the plan they'd set into motion? That being too modest, too withdrawn, could spark a lack of interest?

And was it really such a bad thing to want a brief refuge from the loneliness Morinth herself had mentioned, in a moment where their usage of each other was mutual? Was it wrong to take a perverse amount of pleasure from knowing she had the upper hand, that she was pulling a fast one on this woman as blatantly as Morinth was trying to pull a fast one on her? Would it really be a dire sin to accept what sincere interest was offered, when Samara already knew that it would come to this? Had said as much, from the beginning?

For indulging in the one thing she'd denied herself prior to, and after her fateful journey to Alchera, Shepard allowed herself that out, rather than dwell on it: that Samara would forgive her- and Samara would save her, if she got in too deep.

That, for the moment, was enough- enough to say, finally, "I could say the same to you," the sudden dryness in her mouth coming in time with a quickening of her heartbeat.

Part of her- and no small part, at that- wanted this. Even more, once she'd loosened the tight hold she'd kept on the proverbial reigns- and Morinth, those blue eyes alive with intent, with desire, could see it.

"I was hoping you might," Morinth replied, capturing Shepard's chin between her thumb and forefinger. "Only question now is whether or not you'll chicken out if I bring you home with me."

Shepard allowed for a faint smile to cross her lips, eyebrows arched in incredulity. "I don't 'chicken out,'" she said simply. "Not once I've made up my mind. Only thing you have to worry about is whether or not you can keep my interest."

Morinth's eyebrows raised at that, in turn, her smile betraying her amusement. "By the end of tonight," she replied, thumb stroking the commander's chin gently, "I'll know what you look like... sound like... what you feel like when you're right on the edge, begging me to give you what you need."

There was a sinister edge to that promise, one that would've stayed hidden behind a veil of simple lust had Shepard been unaware of what she was in for- but where it should have made her uneasy, it only increased her excitement.

Still, she kept herself in-check, replying, "Assuming you can get me that far," affecting her one clear nod to bravado.

Morinth's smile took a turn for the rapacious at that, brows lifting just slightly at the challenge. "You think I can't?"

"I think I'd like to see you try," Shepard admitted, raising a hand to return the touch briefly, her thumb skirting over the swell of Morinth's lower lip in repetition of what had been offered to her earlier.

The asari's eyes lidded slightly at that, tilting her head to encourage a continuation of that touch for as long as it was offered- and only spoke when Shepard's hand retreated. "So what do you say?" she asked, canting her head to the side. "My place? Or do you need more convincing?"

"I might," Shepard replied, returning the asari's nigh-conspiratorial smile, her intent made clear as she drained her drink, and raised from the booth. "Once we get there."