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Sundown over Kadara comes slowly, all gradually lengthening shadows and irritatingly cold breezes that manage to find every chink and gap in her armour. And yet, in spite of that, it’s still dark by the time Vetra finally wraps up negotiations with one of her contacts.
He — a particularly infuriating human by the name of Jason Vander — looked as though he was still unhappy with their arrangement, and honestly, right now, she was starting to entertain certain violent fantasies, ones that involve just kneecapping the asshole and having done with it.
Luckily for the both of them — he is, at least, a useful asshole — all it took was an elegantly raised browplate to send him melting back into the shadows, and she took a minute to try and ease the tension in her shoulders
(She might hold a certain, mild jealousy of the way most other species can work it out with a bit of oil, and a judicious application of thumbs, with nary a mallet to be seen, but that’s a complaint for another day.)
Kadara Port was surprisingly pretty in that Lower Wards marketplace kind of way, especially if one kept away from the bars, but Vetra kept a firm hand on the butt of her pistol all the same. It wasn’t as though she was planning on starting any trouble but she was certainly prepared to finish any that might find her. She pulls up her omni-tool to check for messages — she’s been gone at least an hour and a half over her estimate, and the last she she wanted was someone launching a half-baked rescue attempt, as appreciated as the sentiment was — then paused. She made a quick detour down the next street — surely, a few minutes more couldn’t hurt — to where she knew the best food stalls were. For all their faults, and there are many, the exiles have done a damned good job at getting some decent food up and running. Even better, they’ve somehow managed to get dextro crops growing, which means there’s actually reasonable food to be had. And, well, after a solid month of nothing but Apex MREs and nutrient paste, Vetra was desperate for something with taste. Keeping one watchful eye on the turian cooking, she tapped out a message to the Tempest.
VNyx: hey, getting food — who wants what?
There was a brief delay before the replies started rolling in, and she grinned at Jaal’s declaration that they were all just asking to be poisoned, and SAM’s reassurances that his sensors were more than up to the task of detecting unwanted compounds in their food. It’s usually around this point that Fliss popped up, making the obvious joke about eating out instead, to general eye-rolling from the rest of the new, but she’s conspicuously quiet, and Vetra took a moment to send her a message on their personal channel.
Vee: hey babe! everything alright?
There was no answer by the time she collected her food, and still none when she picked up Cora and Lexi’s dumplings, as well as whatever that angaran thing Peebee asked for was.
(Jaal by now had progressed to talking about what he was going to do with the Tempest after Kadara’s cruisine had killed them all)
Fliss still hadn’t answered, but Vetra had to stop by the noodle stall anyway — Drack and Suvi both apparently share the Pathfinder’s love for the extra spicy variety, and besides, any extra is highly unlikely to go to waste. She was watching the cook sprinkle the little red flakes that are worth more than eezo on the Nexus but seem to be abundant here, when her omni-tool pings with an unexpected name.
TheKosta: You nearly done out there?
TheKosta: because your girlfriend is drooling on my shoulder
Vetra shook her head, and gestured for another serve to be added to her order, before typing back.
VNyx: she’s what now?
VNyx: also, food?
TheKosta has sent an image.
TheKosta: send help
TheKosta: …and noodles
Vetra rolled her eyes — a blind man could have seen that one coming — and took the bag she was handed with a nod of thanks.
VNyx: damn
VNyx: you weren’t lying about the drool
VNyx: be about five
VNyx has saved the image.
TheKosta: nice
It was more like ten, by the time she’d made it through the crowd and made an ever-so-brief stop at an angaran fruit stand for Jaal.
“So, SAM, what are the chances this will kill us all?” she asked, shaking the bag as she waited for the dock’s interminably slow doors to cycle open.
“Exceedingly remote, Ms Nyx,” SAM said through her comm channel, and there was definitely a hint of exasperation in his normally even tone. “I will be able to provide further analysis back on the Tempest, if you are concerned,”
“Ah, I’m just messing with you SAM,” she said with a grin as he lets her through the Tempest’s security field. “Jaal still at it?”
“He is. However I do not believe his strictures on Kadaran food will extend to the fruit you are carrying,”
“That makes two of us SAM,”
Whatever else she might have said was lost, because there was suddenly a horde of rampaging varren mobbing her for their food. She lobbed the last container to Cora, grinning at the ironic salute she got in return, and headed for Liam’s little hidey-hole.
The door slid open at her approach, and she leaned against the frame, browplates raised at the scene within. Fliss was totally out cold, face smushed up against Liam’s shoulder, and there’s a spreading damp patch under her mouth as she snores. Vetra crept in, probably more quietly than she needed to be, and perched on the arm of the decrepit sofa. Liam took the offered tub of noodles with a nod of thanks, then grinned.
“Better watch out,” he said, with a look of comical bliss on his face as he peeled back the lid. “Jaal’s probably convinced you’re trying to murder us all,”
Vetra snorted, setting Fliss’s noodles on the tiny hotplate Liam kept stashed behind a crate (contemplating and and rejecting the idea of pointing out the colossal fire risk) and popped the top off her own food.
“’s one way to start a diplomatic incident,” she said, taking a bite. “Threaten the liaison guy with fresh fruit,”
There’s something ridiculous on the vidscreen, an old human sitcom, or something, and Liam gave a sheepish shrug when he noticed her watching.
“Don’t ask,” he said, dropping his voice when Fliss stirred, muttering something incomprehensible. “It’s silly and old and soothing I guess. Safe. Nobody’s dad dies halfway through at least,”
Vetra winced at the memory of that particular attempt at movie night. A heavy silence fell, Liam drumming his fingers against his thigh while Vetra found herself watching the ludicrous vid before she could stop herself.
“God, I forgot just how G-rated this version was,” Liam said eventually, breaching what was a distinctly awkward silence. “They rebooted it a while back, set it on the Citadel, yeah? Sexed it right up. Came out when I was in primary, and you either had the cool parents who let you watch the first run, or you had the strict parents who made you watch the clean version,”
His free hand curled into the strange finger quotes humans seem so fond of using on the word ‘clean’.
“Take a guess which parents I had,”
And there it was, that old pang in her chest, that curdling jealousy? Anger? Whatever that one emotion she’s never quite been able to pin down and name that rears its ugly little head whenever people joke about their normal parents and normal upbringings, and she pulled in a breath like she’d been sucker-punched. It would be so, so very easy to fall into old habits, she was so tempted, to just rip him a new one, again, for daring to glance off that old wound but —
They were never going to be the best of buddies, but she and Liam had been making baby steps out of mutual loathing and into something like not-enemies lately, and damned if she was going to let some six-hundred year old ghost fuck that up.
She took another deep breath and slid down to sit on the couch properly, drawing her knees up to her chest.
“At least your parents could get them,” she said wryly, and she could see him watching her carefully out of the corner of her eye. “You have any idea how hard it is finding ‘clean’ versions of anything out in the Terminus? Sid ended up watching a lot of educational vids.”
There was something like relief in his chuckle, and he flashed her a cautious grin, and Vetra wondered if she wasn’t the only one making an effort.
“Bet you saw a lot of Perry,”
His grin widened as Vetra rolled her eyes to the ceiling.
“Don’t even talk to me about Perry,” she groused. “That spirit-forsaken song still haunts me. You ever see the one where the puppet was on fire?”
Liam nearly choked on a mouthful of noodles, covering his mouth in an effort not to wake Fliss with his laughter.
“Uh, no? You’re shitting me right, they set Perry the fucking Pyjack on fire?”
He looked a mixture of incredulous and absolutely delighted, and despite herself, Vetra’s mandibles flared out into a grin of their own.
“I shit you not Kosta, it was hilarious. There was a varren, there was fire, there was this crazy old one-horned salarian commentating, it was gold. Made all those hours worthwhile, let me tell you. I think it traumatised the hell out of Sid.”
This time Liam did wake Fliss with his laughter, and she blinked sleepily at the pair.
“Nn. You guys playing nice?” she mumbled, sitting up and squinting at them in a manner that’s probably supposed to be threatening but — in Vetra’s entirely biased opinion — just looked adorable.
“Haven’t killed each other yet,” Liam assured her with a smile, and she nodded, still squinting.
“That’s good,” she yawned, scooting over towards Vetra until she could curl up against her carapace. “Wouldn’t want that. Too messy.”
She seemed about ready to fall asleep again, eyes fluttering shut, but she suddenly frowned, opening one eye and peered suspiciously at Liam.
“…are those noodles?”
Liam held his out of reach, and pointed to the crates.
“You’ve got your own,” he said sternly, as Vetra leaned over to retrieve them, and thankfully switch off the portable fire hazard. “Keep your thieving hands off mine.”
Fliss poked her tongue at him and peeled off the lid with a contented sigh.
“Best girlfriend,” she said happily, bumping Vetra’s shoulder affectionally with her head, and sometimes, Vetra’s not sure if she’s in love with a human or a very squishy krogan. Fliss seemed disinclined to move, or even talk much and so her attention inevitably roamed back to the vidscreen.
“So what is this trash anyway, Kosta?”
Liam, of course, immediately launched into a long-winded explanation of not just the show, but the time period, location and the socio-political climate of the era, and between his endless prattling, and the show’s archaic laugh track — built in, and un-mutable, Liam said with a sad shake of his head — she could feel Fliss relaxing.
It was therefore, no surprise when, two episodes later her head lolled back against Vetra’s armour with a sigh. Vetra let out a sigh of her own, looking down at her.
“You have a bed, Fliss,” she said, voice pitched low so she doesn’t wake her. “A giant one that doesn’t smell of stale beer,”
Her only reply was a soft snore from Fliss, and a scoff from Liam.
“That can’t be comfortable,” he snorted, turning to fumble for something behind them. “Looks like you’re stuck with me a bit longer Nyx.”
He came back holding a blanket, and between them, they managed to drape it around their snoring Pathfinder without waking her, and Vetra actually smiled at him.
“There’s worse places, I guess. Worse company,”
They’re both silent for a few minutes, Vetra running a thumb over the crease between Fliss’s brows. Up close, and asleep, where she couldn’t deflect, she was looking worryingly worn, and the smudges under her eyes were starting to look like bruises.
“Bad day out there?”
Liam glanced down at her, and he pulled a considering face.
“Not — bad, not really. Just, uh, very Kadara, you know? Lotta bullshit that didn’t need to happen. Gets her down, I think.”
He frowned.
“I think — she got a headache up on the ridge. Must have been bad, called it a day, came back here. I figured she was off to shower and sleep it off, but she showed up here looking for company. I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it company. So —”
He gestured to the vidscreen by way of explanation.
“That I can do,” he said with a shrug.
“She’s not okay, is she?”
It popped out before Vetra could stop it and she winced, cursing herself, but Liam’s face softened, and he smoothed the blanket over Fliss’s feet.
“Not really,” he admitted. “But she’s got us. And you. We’ll get her though.”
Usually, his glib answers, like it’s all so easy, just piss her off, but for once, it’s oddly comforting, and she found herself wanting to believe it. She gently wove her fingers through Fliss’s hair, smiling a little when she mumbled something and relaxed that little bit more.
“Stuff like this helps,” Liam added. “Shit-talking old vids. Take out. Normal stuff, you know?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Think we could all use some normal for a change.”
Liam, naturally, gets that one look of his, that ‘I’m planning something that’s gonna be great, or terminally stupid, or better yet, both’ look that he does before he goes and does it, and she groaned internally. He was already tapping away at his omni-tool, and she decided that her attention was much better served by whatever nonsense was going on in this show now, and spirits-fucking-preserve her, she’s actually getting invested in this shit.
They end up sitting through another seven episodes, falling into a kind of amiable (amiable!) bickering over the ridiculousness of some of the plot lines.
(“I’d ask why he has a pet monkey in a tiny apartment, but,” Vetra said at one stage, looking pointedly down at her drooling girlfriend, and Liam had to stuff his hand in his mouth to keep from laughing.)
Eventually, the credits of the final episode play, and Vetra rolled her neck from side to side.
“I hate that I’m asking you if there’s more of this garbage,” she groaned, scowling at Liam.
“Nine more seasons,” he said happily. “It gets better after this,”
“It had better,” she muttered, gently shaking Fliss awake. “I cannot believe you’ve got me hooked on this shit Kosta.”
He just laughed as between them, they haul a very unimpressed Fliss to her feet.
“Later, Nyx,” he called, with a jaunty wave, and Vetra gave him an ironic salute on their way out.
They’d never be the best of buds, but maybe they’d taken some baby steps out of not-enemies and into maybe-you’re-okay territory. It certainly felt like it it, when two days and a few messages to Sid later when the clip she’d managed to procure had Liam nearly choking to death on his morning Blast-Ohs. Suvi had banged him on the back, perhaps a little harder than necessary, while Fliss cried with laughter, and Cora and Peebee had started bickering over whether the host was ex-STG or that one crazy doctor on Omega.
It was certainly the only way to explain why, on the trip back to the Nexus, she found herself on that damn dust pit couch again, idly scratching the Pyjack-who-was-totally-not-named-Perry behind the ears, and listening to Liam and Fliss argue about which version was the superior one. They’ll never, ever be the best of buds, but, Vetra thought as Liam tossed her another dextro beer procured from spirits only know where, maybe they can somehow get to friends.