"Careful, Ryder."

"Beg pardon?"

"Just saying." Liam was propped against the frame of the Tempest's exit, his arms crossed. He made a big show of being cool and at ease, but with his brown eyes belligerently pinned to a set point on the wall Sara didn't need SAM's reading of his heartrate and respirations to know Liam had worked rep after endless rep of push ups until he knew just exactly what he was going to throw at her. "What do you really know about this guy, anyhow? I mean, besides the fact he was exiled."

"Reyes wasn't part of the Nexus uprising-"

"According to him, you mean," Liam shot back so quickly it was obvious she said word for word what he'd hoped she would. "And even if it's the truth, isn't jumping ship like that worse in a way?"

"We weren't there." Sara vowed to stay calm, but SAM- now reporting on her vitals- revealed that to be unlikely. "From all I've heard, maybe I'd be on Kadara now, too."

That made Liam's head snap toward her. Apparently, she must have strayed from the anticipated script. "You can't mean that. You're better than that."

"Am I?" It was news to her. "The krogan and exiles all have stories about how the Nexus mishandled things. I'm sure the truth falls somewhere in the middle."

He shook his head. "He's a criminal and a liar in a port of criminals and liars. If you're okay with that, then whatever you do is between you two, but I did some digging."

"You did some digging?" Sara had to hand it to Liam. She couldn't recall anyone else so able to blithely poke at every nerve she possessed under the guise of helpful concern.

"Yeah, somebody had to," he huffed. "Pretty convenient that all of his entrance interviews and psych evals were corrupted. The only thing still on file is that he was a shuttle pilot with the call-sign, Anubis."

"Nearly everybody's files were corrupted when the Nexus plowed through the Scourge," Sara snapped. "What do you suppose your files say about you?"

"That Alec Ryder hand picked me for one."

Sara just bet he did. But for what purpose was the real question. Random fuck buddy for his darling baby girl was not likely high on his list of criteria. "That shows just how little you know about my father," she said.

"I'm trying to look out for you," Liam ground out. "Like your dad or brother would have wanted."

He had freckles kissed across his nose and cheeks. She had thought them cute, sexy even, as she'd explored the trail of them and just where on his body they would lead her, but now? She sorely wished she lacked the discipline to slap them clean off his face for that garbage statement.

"My brother?" Who was very much alive and well, thank you. "Would want to kick you into deep space for speaking on his behalf, and my father? Dead men don't get a say in whatever the fuck I get up to and you're looking pretty goddamned dead to me right about now, Liam."

"Sara-!"

"Get fucked." Sara stepped around him and proceeded down the gangplank and onto Kadara Port.

Liam continued to indignantly splutter out whatever self righteous last word he'd come up with prior to their confrontation, but she couldn't care. It was already thirty minutes past eight and she couldn't show up to a party literally shaking with rage.

SAM uselessly offered up calming exercises and meditation techniques as Sara stalked back and forth on the pier. Fuck Liam! Fuck him all to hell. She'd taken Peebee's advice of a shower, but stubbornly kept to her own aesthetic when it came to fashion. Now, Sara was so heated she could feel her skin begin to stick to her bra band beneath her t-shirt. It made her chuckle ruefully, more sweat in the cups than boob at this point. She consoled herself with the fact that even though she was a mess, at least she was a hot mess.

As she approached Sloane Kelly's HQ, she could hear the dull vibrations of bass. It was intriguing in the sense that Sara hadn't thought Sloane had it in her. Sloane Kelly: Party Animal. There wasn't much in the way of a crowd, all the partygoers arrived in a more timely fashion, maybe. A single bouncer stood bored at the door. He sighed and glanced at his datapad. "Name?"

"Ryder," she said. "Human Pathfinder. Kind of a big deal."

His lips pursed as he scanned the datapad. "There's no 'Ryder' on my list..."

"She's with me," came a familiar drawl as Reyes appeared around a corner. "Reyes Vidal."

"You weren't waiting too long, I hope?" Sara smirked at him.

He grinned and offered an arm. "Just got here, myself."

"You're clear." The bouncer rolled his eyes. "Don't cause any trouble."

"Trouble?" She mock gasped as she circled her arm around Reyes's. "Never!"

"Shhh!" The scolding immediately fell into snickering as he steered her into the headquarters. "Weren't you the one who didn't want to get shot at this evening?"

He looked much the way he typically did, with his standard flight jacket and pants, but she could see the flush of pink a razor had left on his freshly shaved face. As they entered Sloane's chambers, he noticeably straightened and cleared his throat. Reyes held an open palm to the clusters of people mingling in front of them before turning his head to her. "Well?"

"It's a party," Sara said.

And it was. Umi, the bartender from Kralla's was off to the side doing what she did best: pouring drinks. The big difference between this and Kralla's was the lack of homebrew and number of bottles with angaran and Milky Way labels. The music was better too, if for no other reason than it was used as pleasant background noise instead of drowning out raucous customers. Sara idly wondered if she could dance to it, even while intimately knowing it would be more characteristic of her to stand by the food table and awkwardly snack all night. Hopefully, there'd be cheese.

"Reyes Vidal." An angaran woman glided over to them and smiled. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

He laughed politely. "Remember what I said about being fashionably late-?"

"Shush! Introduce me to your companion." Without waiting, she descended upon Sara, grasping the Pathfinder's face with both hands and when Sara seemingly passed inspection, the other woman let her hands drop from Sara's cheeks to rest on her shoulders.

Angarans. Sara knew the species reveled in enormous extended families, but until this point she'd never considered that their domiciles were roughly the same size as any other species. The ease at which this woman just put her hands all over Sara casually was nervewracking. How cozy must a living space be filled with eight or even ten relatives at any given time? And did that make Jaal particularly reserved or aloof for an angaran, or was he just quietly becoming more and more touch-starved?

"Pathfinder, meet Keema Dohrgun," Reyes said as he relaxed his arm from her and left Sara at the mercy of the angaran's embrace. "She's the angaran representative for Sloane and a friend."

"I didn't think Reyes had friends," Sara murmured. "Only contacts and colleagues."

It earned her an approving chuckle from Keema. "Oh, I'm those as well. Who do you think secured him an invitation to this event?"

"Really?"

She nodded. "I was hoping he'd bring you, Pathfinder. You're all he talks about lately."

"Is that so?" Sara shifted her eyes sidelong to Reyes for any clue, but his gaze was elsewhere.

"Sorry to cut this short," he said, stepping backwards, "but I need to take care of something."

"Abandoning me already?" Sara had meant it to be coy, but Reyes didn't seem to share her mirth.

"It won't take long." He was serious. "There are important players here tonight. You should mingle. Make a good impression."

"You've never seen me mingle," Sara said slowly. "You have no idea what you're asking."

Reyes reached forward and took her hands in his. "I've enjoyed all of our mingling." He gave her an encouraging smile as he squeezed her hands. "You'll be fine."

"Reyes..."

"I'll make it up to you." As quickly as his hands were on her, they were gone and Reyes Vidal was slinking away, sheepish. "Promise!"

"And there he goes." Keema pulled a cigar and lighter from her cloak.

"Any idea what he's up to?" Sara asked.

Keema took her time, puffing on the cigar until its tip lit up cherry red, before she answered, her words trailing out between plumes of smoke. "It's better not to worry about what Reyes does and enjoy the party." Keema stretched a hand to Sara's cheek to give her a final, affectionate pat, before the angaran woman also breezed away, leaving nothing in her wake but smoke.

So. Party. Now that Sara was thoroughly and completely alone, it was time to "mingle" and network. More likely hover at the bar and attempt to drink away her thoughts, like what was the true purpose of her attending such a party? Standing by her lonesome, she was beginning to doubt all of her efforts to get laid.

Sara frowned. Reyes claimed to not be aligned with either Outcasts or Collective and even spoke critically of Sloane, yet here they were at Sloane's party, rubbing elbows with her angaran representative. Reyes's friend! Would a Nexus Pathfinder making an appearance imply an alliance? Would it ease tensions and garner Sloane Kelly more support or would it make her look weak and like she was going back on her word? There were power plays happening here that went far beyond free cocktails and snacks.

Speaking of Sloane, the belle of the ball herself sat front and center on her throne, overlooking everything. She looked exactly as bored as Sara would have thought, but still managed a hard glare when her eyes met the Pathfinder's.

"I see that Kaetus needs to vet the guest list more thoroughly," Sloane crisped as Sara made her way toward her.

"I'm here with a friend." Who was currently nowhere in sight. Sara sighed and pointed a thumb at the exit. "If that's a problem, I can go."

Sloane shook her head. "That would only raise questions. Enjoy Kadara's hospitality while you have it."

Sara took a step back and wandered toward the bar, as Sloane was already ignoring her. Hospitality! Apparently when Reyes suggested she mingle, he hadn't meant with their illustrious host. As she made her way to the drinks, now it was Umi's turn to ignore her. "I didn't think I'd ever see you working outside of Kralla's," Sara commented lightly.

Umi didn't even flinch."No overhead and the pay's up front."

"Apparently, there are people I should be making a good impression on," Sara drawled. "But I don't know who. Sloane already knows my particular brand of bullshit, so not her..."

"So you came to me for what? Liquid courage?" The bartender placed a drink in front of her.

Sara shrugged and helped herself. "Actually, it was more that I figure you'd know who the key players here tonight are, but sure. I'd never say no to free drinks." It was syrupy and sweet, but managed to burn all the way down. "What is this, anyway?"

Umi watched her impassively. "Angaran wine mixed with ryncol."

"Ryncol is toxic to humans!"

"It's not toxic." Umi rolled her eyes. "Just unpleasant. That's why I cut it with the wine. I got a big case of the stuff at Kralla's and wanted to see if I could sell it to non krogans."

Sara pushed the rest of the drink toward the bartender. "Yeah, well, maybe start with that next time."

"Relax, I wouldn't do anything to intentionally harm you," Umi droned as she collected the glass. "I'd never hear the end of it from Reyes if I did."

"That's important to you?"

"He can be a pain in the ass, but yeah." Umi made the way she wiped down the counter and prepped a glass for an incoming angara seem effortless. "He makes a big show of being all talk, but he's kept Kralla's afloat for me on a couple occasions."

"Huh." Sara leaned back onto the freshly cleaned bar and ignored the asari's grimace. "Maybe try cutting the ryncol with something else? Angaran alcohol has a delayed absorption rate, so I can see people drinking a ton of this stuff because 'it hasn't hit them,' and then you're stuck with the double-edged sword of folks who are way too drunk, but also puking blood from too much ryncol."

"Noted." The annoyed pull of Umi's upper lip relaxed and she rested her own elbows along the bar. Casually, she began to nod her nose at partygoers. "You know Sloane, but if you really wanted to know anything about the Outcasts, you'd talk to her right hand turian, Kaetus. I see Reyes already introduced you to Keema Dohrgun, and Antilla Baar'un is the official contact for the Angaran Resistance."

"Official, huh?" Sara mused.

"Yeah," Umi scoffed. "I think officially he sits on his ass and drinks all day, but what do I know, right?"

"Thanks, Umi," Sara said, standing.

The bartender had already ducked back under the bar for ice. "Whatever."

Sara gazed out at the crowd with her newly acquired information. Antilla Baar'un was jovial and fat with a gut that extended out past the hem of his rofjinn. As official as the angaran man was, she doubted there'd be any point to exchanging pleasantries, especially since the only contact on Kadara Evfra spoke of was code named "Shena."

So that left Keema and Kaetus. Possibly Reyes, if he ever reappeared. Sara sighed and glanced at her omni tool. It was silent. No Reyes, but also no Cora demanding to know her whereabouts. Sara doubted the latter would remain quiet for the entirety of the evening.

Maybe that meant there was something to what Reyes said about making good impressions. For no other reason than it was a better excuse to feed Cora about tonight than just Sara thinking with her crotch.

Kaetus stood along the wall away from everyone. She had to appreciate someone that miraculously made her appear less awkward. Sara shuffled over to him, Kaetus sighing and tensing apprehensively the nearer she came, and she leaned against the wall a few paces from his spot.

"You look like you could use a drink," Sara told him.

"What I could use is fewer distractions while I'm working." Kaetus was trying to avoid looking at her in favor of the room, but she wasn't sold on if he had the willpower to ignore someone apparently as annoying as her.

"You don't drink on the job?" she asked. "I heard it was acceptable to have a three drink max in these parts."

"You heard wrong," the reply was cold and automatic, but Kaetus spared her a frustrated glance. "Sloane's already going to give me hell because you're here- are you trying to make it worse?"

"No, I'm trying to make conversation." And starting to wonder why she bothered. "If I'm going to ever set up an outpost on Kadara, I've got to get in nice with the powers that be, right?"

"Then why don't you go away and talk to them?"

"Who?" Sara scoffed. "The Charlatan? Or Sloane?"

It was the wrong thing to say, perhaps. Kaetus's demeanor instantly flipped from curmudgeonly to icy. "Was that supposed to be a threat, Pathfinder? You don't look drunk, so maybe you're just that stupid."

"I don't have time for threats, Kaetus," she said quickly. "Look at me. My job is to guarantee survivability and I do that with outposts. But how do I guarantee safety if the Outcasts and Collective are gunning for each other?"

"That is entirely a 'you' problem," Kaetus replied just as fast.

"I can make Kadara viable," Sara insisted. "I have that ability!"

"Uh huh..."

"I do! Just look at Voeld, Eos, Elaaden..." She shook her head. "But what's the point if it's not safe? What's the Outcasts's plan for dealing with the Collective?"

He gave her a long, hard look. Like he was the long-suffering gem tucked away among idiots. "Part of our plan is to not share it with every curious partygoer."

"Right..!" She could see why Sloane liked him so much and very nearly opened her mouth to say just that... until she realized what an ass kiss she'd would sound like. Instead, Sara shut her mouth and gestured a thumb back to the party. "Sorry, didn't mean to waste your time. I'm going to go fuck off, now."

"Finally!" Kaetus shot a glance at Sloane's throne and coughed down his snort. "Keep a low profile."

"Yeah, yeah." She nodded and meandered over to the snack table.

It had food. There were strange nutrient pastes, sure, but there was also honest to goodness food that extended beyond the flavors of protein bars. Some roasted meat- varren, maybe- on sticks for easy consumption and tiny, little cubes of cheese. Sara popped one in her mouth and almost gagged. It was not cheese. It was fruit, maybe, cloyingly sweet and with an unsettling custard-like texture. The angarans present seemed to enjoy it.

Sara swallowed it down and decided she was done pretending to be casual and should stick to what she knew. She headed straight to Keema Dohrgun and cleared her throat. "So, what's it mean to be the angaran representative to Sloane?"

"Good to see you again too, Pathfinder," Keema greeted her entirely unflummoxed. She retrieved another cigar from her cloak and offered it to Sara. "Sloane relies on me to provide an angaran perspective."

Sara shook her head. "Does she listen to you?"

"Only in extreme cases." Unbothered, the angaran woman placed the cigar to her own mouth and lit it. She took a few drags and paused to study the smoke that left her lips. "She makes a show of being pro-angaran, but her priority is the Outcasts. She throws these parties to mollify my people. It won't work forever."

"Are you part of the Resistance?" Sara asked.

Keema made a soft, clucking noise in the back of her throat, like she was chiding a naughty child. "No. Evfra and I share information, but Kadara's problems come first. If war breaks out between the Collective and the Outcasts, it will be my people who suffer."

"If you're not Resistance, then how did you meet Reyes?"

"The only way anyone meets Reyes Vidal-" she turned to Sara, an amused glean to her large eyes, "through business. His skills are very valuable in Kadara Port."

Sara never thought she would have equated cigar smoking with elegance, but Keema certainly made it seem very alluring. The smells of burning grass and spices created a tiny bubble warm and safe from the stink of Kadara. It was a cozy falsehood that left Sara waiting to see if the angaran woman would utter more truth when she opened her mouth, or just blow smoke.

"Don't worry, Ryder," she said, seemingly reading Sara's mind. "I judge individuals, not groups. You, for example, I like. Not sure about who you work for, but I've learned to keep my options open."

"I get that," Sara admitted. "But I appreciate the vote of confidence. Speaking of Reyes, have you seen him?"

That earned her a smile. "No, but I'm sure he'll be back soon. He likes you."

"Oh yeah?" Sara felt herself grin in spite of herself. "Well, he's not so bad, himself."

"Oh, he is," Keema assured her as she stubbed out her cigar. "But that's not entirely without merit, either."

Sara took a few, rambling steps away from Keema as she debated her next move. She'd been circling this party, successfully (and unsuccessfully) networking for some time, now. The most logical conclusion in regards to the still vanished Reyes Vidal was that he ran into trouble with whatever errand he was running.

Well. Either that, or he ditched her. But her ego was really only prepared to handle the former.

Heat signatures were useless as there were too many people crowded and carousing in the main room. It was then that SAM offered up tracking Reyes based on the electrical output of his omni tool. It opened up a whole new world of morally ambiguous privacy invasion that Sara promised to gawk at horrified on some later date. For now, however, it was all she had and she was just dutifully making sure that one of Reyes's smuggler friends wasn't in fact beating him bloody and lifeless in a back alley.

Reyes hadn't gone far and was still somewhere on Sloane's property. As she left the party proper, Sara muttered something about a restroom to the random Outcast patrolling before she began to wander down a hallway.

The beat of the music faded to a lulling din as she crept farther away, past the restrooms and beyond. Sloane had a lot of locked and darkened rooms. SAM registered Reyes's omni tool toward the end of the hallway, so Sara continued on, ignoring every spark of curiosity that came with each closed door.

The final door held a storage room. Crates, most of them pirated with the Initiative's label printed clearly across the top, were stacked almost to the ceiling. It was the only room whose door was wide open, so there was likely frequent traffic. As she peered in, Sara noticed several of the crates had their lids pried off and the closer she drew, the more she could hear the frustrated mutterings of one Reyes Vidal.

"Damn it! Why can't the serial numbers be in the same spot?"

Sara crossed her arms as she leaned against a crate and couldn't help but take a certain enjoyment in the way that he startled at her voice. "Take the night off," she mocked, "come out for a drink. Should've known you were up to something."

Reyes shot upright out of the crate he was digging through, a crowbar clattering loudly across the floor. Where in the hell did he even stash that crowbar in the first place? "Ryder! It's not what it looks like."

"So you didn't use me as a distraction to go through Sloane's stuff?"

"Okay, yes." Honesty under duress! He took the two long strides necessary to meet her as he struggled to compose himself, his eyes making furtive glances to the exit the way someone with an insider's knowledge of Sloane's routine patrols might. "But it's for both our benefit, I promise."

Sara gave him an exasperated sigh. "You've been making a lot of promises-"

"Shit-!" Reyes was staring past her at the open door, his fingertips twitching anxiously. "Someone's coming! We need a distraction!"

That's when his eyes met hers, round and panicked, like Sara Ryder would somehow miraculously save them both. In the space of a heartbeat, her brain shut down while SAM shrieked everything from freezing like a statue to lobbing a grenade at the door.

In hindsight, Sara would like to say that she knew exactly what she was doing. She would say that public displays of affection made onlookers uncomfortable and unable to properly scrutinize the situation. It wasn't, for example, the final hurrah of someone likely bound for whatever passed as an Outcast prison as retribution for stealing from a pirate overlord. In other words, Sara would lie.

She threw herself at Reyes Vidal with such voracity, that had he not instinctively moved to match her, they very well may have both ended up with bloodied lips.

He stumbled back into a crate as she grabbed hold of his jacket collar, but any initial shock he may have felt quickly faded. Pressed chest to chest, Reyes's body relaxed against hers and he pulled her to him with a hand on her back.

"Oh!" said a female voice. "Sorry..."

It occurred to Sara that perhaps she should focus on the Outcast patrol- who hastily fumbled for a couple of bottles out of a crate before dashing from the storage room- but as she parted her lips, the thought preoccupying her mind was that of a three drink limit and how she couldn't taste even a drop of liquor despite her tongue dancing across Reyes's. Maybe it was a courtesy she herself should have followed, since she didn't imagine that ryncol-wine and custard fruit was necessarily appetizing. Given the way Reyes continued to eagerly meet her kiss after kiss, however, perhaps Sara was just fretting for the sake of fretting.

But all things, regardless of how welcomed or desperate, eventually come to an end. She felt his eyes open with a flutter of lashes against her cheek and gently, Reyes pulled his head away despite Sara refusing to let go of his bottom lip with her own mouth. "I think we're in the clear," he murmured, tucking a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

"Maybe another kiss?" Sara breathed. "Just to be sure."

His upper lip brushed against hers as he smirked. "Now you're just teasing me." Reyes ducked beneath Sara's arms and delicately extracted himself from her lingering grasp before heading back to the crate she'd originally found him ransacking. There was a clink of bottles as he pushed things aside and reaching down, he gave a victorious chuckle. "Finally! Here it is!"

It was a goddamned bottle of booze.

"That's what this was all about?" Sara demanded, unsure if she was weak-kneed over risking Sloane Kelly's ire or from the heat of Reyes's body. "Whiskey?"

He almost looked offended. "The only bottle of Mount Milgrom in Andromeda. Triple distilled and 645 years old. This isn't whiskey- it's treasure." He chose to highlight that fact by pressing his lips across the label.

At least it was whiskey. Sara groaned and arched an eyebrow at him. "Does that mean you're sharing or..?"

He grinned at her. "We'll see. Let's get out of here." Taking her hand, he raced out of the storage room, bypassing the party completely and dashed out through the exit. Sara offered a little wave to Sloane's bouncer who only stared at the couple, nonplussed.