NOTE: This chapter has a lot of f-words, mentions of krogan genitals, a very unhappy batarian, and one sexually promiscuous drell. It's also the favorite chapter I have written so far. But lots of swear words.

As always, comments are loved.

Vortash had made it abundantly clear on more than one occasion that he did not like the sick fuck drell. In fact, he made is very clear that he hated that sick fuck drell and wanted to be as far away from him as possible at all times.

And yet somehow here he was. Alone. With that sick fuck drell.

What's more, that sick fuck drell knew that Vortash hated him, just like everyone else knew, and he was enjoying coming up with the sickest fucking things he could just to make this scouting mission as miserable as possible. The sick fuck's eidetic memory was in full effect, and the drell was recalling every sick fuck he'd ever had in vivid detail, right down to the smells. Of a fucking krogan, for fuck's sake.

"I mean, say what you will about their virility, but their stamina..." Sensat murmured, his smile widening.

The two of them were in a rundown tenement building catty-corner to the Blood Pack base. Sensat, a lean blue-green drell, stood at the window, gazing through his headset's binocular display, clicking the heat sensors off and on idly, keeping a count of the krogan and vorcha heat signatures inside.

"I hate you. So much. Stop talking already," muttered the batarian on the floor beside him. Vortash busied himself by fiddling with his omni-tool, scrolling through the Pack's recently hacked files.

"And this guy was huge. Absolute brute. I swear to the Enkindlers, he was ticklish."

Vortash growled, multiple nostrils flaring in anger as he snapped his attention back up at the drell. "Shut up. You're fucking with me. You never fucked a krogan, there aren't gay krogan, and they sure as fuck aren't ticklish."

Sensat blinked his inner eyelids, looking over at the batarian. "No? Think about it. One female to every twenty males. You seriously think all those angry, intense krogan hormones aren't going cause all those men to go berserk on each other in animalistic passion?" He held up a pair of webbed fingers, "Two words. Krogan orgy."

"I am ignoring you so hard right now."

"Better than a krogan orgy? Asari orgy. Talk about classy. Krogan orgy is all wild and bestial and frantic, but asari." The drell let out a low whistle, turning his attention back to the base. "Bathing in a writhing blue sea."

Vortash fell suddenly silent, his thoughts drifting.

"I know you've got a thing for asari, Vor. I've caught you watching those vids."

Vortash let out a long-suffering sigh, dropping his arms to his sides and banging the back of his head against the wall a few times. "You're not going to stop, are you? You never fucking stop..."

"Have you ever had an asari?" the drell asked casually.

Vortash blinked all four eyes in quick succession, then sputtered. "Of course I have!"

"How many?" Sensat arched a scaly brow, glancing back at his partner.

The batarian scoffed, "Enough."

"Zeeerooo," Sensat drawled in a sing song voice.

"I am going to shoot myself in the head before this night is over, I swear."

"But you know what I still haven't crossed off my list?" Sensat stepped back from the window and sat beside Vortash in one fluid motion.

"If you say batarian male I am going to shoot you in the head."

The drell laughed softly and shook his head, "Turian male." He paused, hand sliding into his jacket to pull out a package of batarian cigarettes, offering one to Vortash. "You've seen the boss without that helmet on, haven't you?"

Vortash hesitated before accepting the offered smoke. The drell had good taste in cigarettes at least. This brand was made using organic tukush leaves, grown exclusively on his people's homeworld. Batarians experienced a calming effect from the cigarettes as well as a pleasant tingle throughout their faces and fingers, while the drell enjoyed an additional benefit of warm, dry lungs."I do not like where this is going."

Sensat shrugged, lighting his cigarette with the end of his omni-tool, "Is he handsome? His voice is sexy as hell, and those hips." He sighed almost dreamily, exhaling smoke. "I've tried dropping hints. He is not picking up on any of them."

"I am not having this conversation."

The drell ran his tongue along his teeth thoughtfully, continuing in his calm conversational tone, "Turians are a challenge. Had a turian woman once and even then only after I told her I was an assassin."

Vortash looked over at Sensat, his gaze suddenly sharp, all four eyes narrowed. "Bullshit," he spat.

Sensat grinned, "I shit you not, my friend. The things she did with those mandibles you would not believe." He raised his hands to either side of his jaw, twitching his fingers suggestively.

"You're no fucking assassin."

The drell's grin was gone in an instant, inner eyelids blinking once. He scowled, rolling back to his feet, flicking his binocular HUD back on.

It was the batarian's turn to grin. He even let out a laugh, "Fuck. That shut you up." He shook his head, chuckling. "I've seen a drell assassin at work. You are no drell assassin." Sensat was lacking that otherworldy grace, like moving underwater yet at speeds even Vortash's four eyes could barely fully capture. Sure, Sensat was quick, quiet, and precise, but he had more brute force in his attacks than any drell Vortash had seen at work. He was lacking that certain light touch. No hanar had taught Sensat how to kill, that much was obvious. "Fucking fake."

"I'm not a fake," Sensat hissed back, his own eyes narrowed. "I never told you I was an assassin; I never told Archangel I was one, either. So I told a girl, one night, big deal. I don't walk around every day pretending to be something I'm not."

Vortash's smaller eyes blinked slowly and thoughtfully, looking over the young drell with a sudden new perspective as he rolled his cigarette in his fingers. "You're a wannabe."

Sensat's head bowed. The girl child suits this one's needs, it says, luminescent and brilliant and so tall over my head. My father says it is an honor and asks about me and I hug his knees, too scared and in awe to speak or move. The hanar is silent a few moments, speaking in lights and colors that I cannot and will never see. It finally speaks aloud and says that I am flawed. Sensat blinked, shaking his head to rid himself of the sudden memory. "They didn't want me."

"'Cause you're a fucking pervert, you sick fuck."

The drell paused, and then smiled, looking back at Vortash. "I wasn't a pervert when I was five, Vortash. That took many years of hard work, curiosity, and dedication." He lifted the cigarette to his lips again, "What were we talking about? Ah yes, you mentioned batarians. I like batarians. Like being draped in velvet."

Vortash sighed, pitching the cigarette away and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm going to go take a piss. I don't need to take a piss, but I am sure as fuck going to try if it gets me away from you for five minutes."

"Wait."

Vortash stopped, looking over quickly. It was the drell's tone that forced him to pause. He was no longer the casual and playful Sensat. His voice has dropped an octave into a rumbling pitch. "What?" he turned quickly to the window where Sensat stood perfectly still and alert.

"Radio Archangel. Garm is on the move."