So, Reyes Vidal. Wow. Just wow.

Reyes was more slight in frame and lacked the physique carved from the endless repetition of pushups, but that wasn't a bad thing. Reyes's body wasn't a soldier's; Reye's body was a body built for fun.

Through some miracle of reserve and self control, they made it down the lift to the lower level slums and into his apartment adjoining Tartarus. It was as simple as any of the homes Sara had seen on Kadara, with little more than a bedroom and kitchen attached to a bathroom, but it had exactly the necessary amenities that they required.

SAM was completely silent. As exhilarating as it was to be truly just herself, it came with an eerie realization as to how dependent she'd become on the AI. She had no internal voice reporting in on Reyes's vitals; Sara had to gauge his heartrate on the the quick, little gasps he breathed as she sat naked in his lap, rotating her hips and toying with the idea of letting him inside her, she had to read his temperature by the heat of his tongue as he mouthed her breast. All of this was compounded by the fact that when Sara had told SAM, "all communications" the AI had lumped her universal translator in with communications, and inadvertently created an entirely new, unanticipated predicament. As it turned out, the first two languages that Earth-born Reyes had learned to speak were Portuguese and Spanish, with Common Trade being a distant third. Citadel brat that she was, Sara had always just stupidly assumed Common Trade was the language of choice in most circles and only expanded her language to the smattering of broken Portuguese phrases her father picked up while stationed in Rio (Mom always said his grammar was impeccable, but his diction atrocious,) and two semesters of the dead Prothean tongue that fulfilled the requirement for her degree.

So, when Reyes rolled her onto her back on his bed and began to methodically make his way up the interior of her thigh. Sara had no idea what his murmurs of, "tesuda" meant and blissfully took it as complimentary, knowing full well even if it was not, that in that particular moment of long, practiced strokes from his tongue, she could not care.

To say that it was revelatory was a bit dramatic, but the thought of Sara returning to her usual drunken hookups after a night (morning?) like that made her ache for her previous ignorance. Her mind spun, feebly grasping at any rationalization it could invent to return to Kadara and relive this again, but it was too difficult to think on anything but the way she wrapped her legs around his hips and clung to him while he buried his face deep in her neck muffling all the delicious sounds she coaxed from him. By the end of it, she was left rubber limbed and useless, limply pawing at Reyes's chest to convince herself that he was real, amazing sex had happened, and she hadn't dreamt their entire encounter.

Sara laughed, hoarse and low, her fingers dancing along the trail of hair leading up to his navel. "With a performance like that, you should never spend a night alone."

He caught her hand in his and pulled her in for a kiss. "I try not to." Now that Reyes was making a conscious effort to speak Common Trade for her benefit, his meter wasn't nearly as smooth as it sounded through her translator, but then he grinned like he knew Sara could still taste herself on his lips and she sorely wished she had the stamina for another round.

"SAM," her intended groan came out more of a whine. "You can resume communications, now."

Instantly, Sara's omni tool was alight with all of her previously ignored messages. Cora, Cora and more Cora plus a new one from Vetra. She let them play as Reyes sat up and dropped his legs over the side of the mattress.

"Hope I'm not interrupting your fun, but we could use you back at the ship."

"Seriously, Ryder, get back to the Tempest. We need to move ASAP."

"Sara Ryder, I swear to God, I'm not seeing anything about a Pathfinder transfer, but you had better be dead or so help me-"

"Hey, Ryder..." Vetra had the uncomfortable nervousness of someone speaking with an audience. "If you could at least drop us a line to let us know you're not dead, it'd be much appreciated. Otherwise, Cora's going to tear the port apart looking for you and piss off a lot of people. Call back soon, thanks..."

Reyes didn't say anything immediately, but his laughter was commentary enough. Hell, but the man was handsome. The dim lamp on the nightstand cast a golden glow on his bare back in the windowless bedroom, his muscles stretching taut as he bent over and retrieved her clothing from the floor.

"Duty calls, eh?" he said, handing Sara her pants with her underwear still tangled in a leg.

"Yeah," she sighed. "It calls. And leaves increasingly nastier messages, apparently."

"Apparently." Reye's mouth found hers again, before breaking away with a smirk. "I need a shower. I'd ask you to join me, but..."

"...but I have a few calls to make," Sara finished for him.

"Don't be a stranger," he told her, gifting her a brazen view as he stood and wrapped a towel around his waist. "Let me know the next time you come back to Kadara."

"You will be the first to know," she promised.

"I look forward to it." He paused at the doorway to the restroom. "I think the rest of your clothes ended up on your side of the bed."

"Thanks." She waited for the door to close before she fished her top out from where it was wedged between the headboard and wall, and found her bra on the floor in the corner. Sara sighed at her omni tool and dialed the least offensive frequency.

Vetra picked up before it could complete its first ring. "Ryder! Tell me you're okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine-"

"What happened?" There was a strain to her voice, conflicted like she couldn't decide on where to take their conversation first, but the relief shone through despite her words. "Shore leave is one thing, but then SAM went dark and Cora lost it."

"Why?" Sara snorted as she hooked her bra and slipped her arms through the straps. "Was she afraid I died and made someone else Pathfinder?"

"That's not it at all and you know it-"

"There was a party," she said quickly. "A lot of everyone who's anyone. I went to see the key players and figure out how I could smooth the way for a Nexus outpost."

"Uh huh."

"Don't believe me," Sara scoffed, shimmying into her pants. "I was requested for a private meeting, but they didn't want any logs, because there were a few sensitive, security things discussed and they don't trust the Initiative for some reason."

Vetra groaned. "Fine. Just get back here. I'll try to calm Cora down."

The feed cut dead and Sara was left staring at her t-shirt on the bed. It was inside out. She got dressed and left before the shower water turned off.

When Sara finally wandered back to the Tempest, Cora appeared to be teetering the fine line of cold professionalism and unadulterated rage. Her arms crossed and mouth thinned, she would start tapping a foot only to stop and furiously begin to pace back and forth.

"Can we talk in private?" Cora asked. Of course her hand had already grasped Sara's wrist to steer her toward the meeting room like a naughty child.

"No." Sara reclaimed her arm with a twist of her wrist.

"No?" Any semblance of control was wavered in favor of that anger, bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

"I will not be scolded or shamed," Sara told her as Cora's blood pressure began to spike. "I've done nothing wrong and I do not have to answer to you."

Cora flung her hands in the air. "Oh, you have done plenty wrong, but you're too busy chasing after whatever pretty boy of the moment to notice!"

"Sounds like you heard Liam's version of events, excellent-"

"We triangulated the Leusinia's position five hours ago," Cora snapped, the deathly calm of her timbre betrayed by the smell of eezo and the moan of warping metal. "We could be in FTL right now, but instead you decided to canoodle planetside, so we've been stuck here twiddling our thumbs."

"I had no way of knowing-"

"You're right, you didn't." Cora glared at her. The weapons locker rattled against the bolts that secured it to the wall, all of its sharp angles now slightly rounded. She took a deep breath. "But when we reached out, you went dark."

"I can not be expected to be at your beck and call every hour of every day-"

Cora turned away abruptly and barked at the intercom, "Kallo, she's here. Let's go before our 'leader' slips out for another kegger."

The Tempest began to rumble, its engine long primed and Cora stalked off toward the bridge. Sara wasn't sure why it came as such a shock, Cora had been micromanaging everything from the moment Dad had died, maybe even before. This wasn't new, this was how it always had been. Strange that it felt different.

As Sara watched her leave, there was a stubborn, petulent need to storm after Cora and dress her down, but what was the point? It seemed Lieutenant Harper had already made up her mind about Pathfinder Sara Ryder for a while, now. There was no face to save, only more headaches. As the Tempest broke atmo and soared off to whatever destination the good lieutenant had dictated, Sara shuffled to the restroom for a much needed shower.