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“You started a bar fight. With Drack. On Kadara.”
“Well, we didn't really start it, you know…” She trails off at the look on Vetra's face and closes her eyes, leaning back on the wall she's sitting against to take stock again of her injuries - a black eye, a busted lip, the usual collection of cuts and scrapes, and potentially a bruised rib. Or broken, if level of pain is meant to be an indicator between bruised and broken. And, of course, they're on Kadara, so the only doctor of any note on the whole planet is Lexi. Who's going to give her a stern talking-to as soon as she sets foot on the Tempest.
“And, from the look on your face, you're imagining what Lexi’s going to say when she finds out you've been in a bar fight.” Vetra's voice is even and dry, but Arynn thinks she can detect a hint of amusement in her subvocals. “But you seem to have forgotten that I already know you were in a bar fight. With Drack. On Kadara.”
Arynn opens her eyes and groans theatrically, throwing an arm out and wincing at the pain from her bruised/broken rib. “Oh, the horror! The Pathfinder wipes the floor with angry exiles with the help of her trusty krogan backup!” Drack chuckles off to her left, apparently too pleased with memories of the fight to be bothered by being called backup. Vetra, to her credit, doesn't laugh, but there's definitely amusement in her voice now.
“You, Pathfinder, are impossible,” she says, handing over a field pack of hydrogen peroxide wipes and gauze scrounged from her bag. Arynn tears the packet open and starts dressing the new cuts decorating her arms, hissing at the sting and wondering why she'd gotten off the ship in just a t-shirt.
“Next time I get in a bar fight, I'll make sure I'm wearing armor.” Drack's chuckles turn into full-blown guffaws, and the rush of air through Vetra's mandibles sounds distinctly like a disguise. Arynn looks up with a grin of perfected fake innocence, somewhat offset by her swollen lip and rapidly purpling eye, and Vetra finds herself grinning back.
“Not just impossible, then. Incorrigible,” she says, just barely winning the battle with her laughter. She knows she's going to lose when Arynn looks up again, the fake innocence gone.
“Aww, Vetra! You like me,” she drawls, drawing out the vowel for far longer than necessary. “You wanna date me, you want to love me…” Her words trail off as her giggles take over, hitching slightly as she tries not to jostle her ribs too much. Vetra laughs full-out, lost in the absurdity of the situation and Arynn's well-timed joke, trying to calm down enough to speak when a confused Drack looks between them.
“Old human movie,” she manages to gasp out before the memory of how Sid had gotten that centuries-old vid redoubles her laughter. Drack snorts - his opinion of old human movies or of their ridiculous laughter, she isn't sure - but he's smiling. Or at least as much as krogan can smile.
Still giggling, Arynn presses a hand to her chest with a grimace. “Mm, yeah, definitely wearing armor to my next bar fight.” She reaches up slowly to hand the leftover supplies back to Vetra and Drack grunts, in agreement or in disbelief, reaching out a hand to help her to her feet.
“You did good, kid. For a human,” he says when she's standing, nodding with all the gravitas of a battle-worn old krogan. But Arynn is Arynn, and her eyes sparkle not with respect but with mischief.
“You'll have to give me some pointers, granddad. I think I'm just about ready to take your ‘best bar fighter’ trophy away from you,” she says, reveling in the moment of confused silence before Vetra and Drack both huff with laughter again.
“Impossible, incorrigible, and a whole lot of other words that mean you're an idiot,” Vetra says with another grin, and Arynn nods once as if she's proud of the assessment. “Now let's get out of here before someone else decides it's high time they took a swing at the Pathfinder.” The three of them traipse out of the bar, and Arynn shoots a glance back at the bartender, who rolls her eyes before going back to serving drinks.
“Well, time to face Lexi’s most disapproving glare,” Arynn says, and heads for the dock.