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Afterlife is the one constant of life on Omega, so of course Lantar's spent his fair amount of time here, but he's never seen it quite like this: A wider range of people than the types usually let in by Aria's bouncers, the press of noise and bodies for once united in purpose and passion, anticipation, even hope (something rare on Omega, but gradually growing as Archangel works) for something other than the dancers' empty promises heavy in the air. He and Garrus are right in the thick of it, Garrus occasionally tugging him along as he pushes his way incrementally closer to the front of the crowd. They've gotten separated in fights before but he's almost more worried about losing Garrus here - it seems more likely he'd never see him again.
"Aria's speakers are so loud I'm pretty sure we'd hear them from anywhere on this floor," Lantar points out.
"Sure, but I want to see them up close," says Garrus.
Lantar doesn't pretend to get Garrus's interest in music. He humors him by listening to it when Garrus insists he hear a particular song, he asks what it is in particular he likes about his favorites, he's here at an expensive concert. But it doesn't move him the same way, he's concerned that Garrus's combat playlist is going to distract him at the wrong moment any day now, and he's pretty sure there are photos of Expel 10 on the extranet better than whatever view they can find here.
"C'mon," Garrus says, taking his hand, and that familiar but now suddenly, thrillingly allowed spark jumps between them as he lurches forward to catch up. "I don't want to lose you. What are you staring at?"
"I've never seen anything like this before," he confesses, or almost shouts, because the audience is getting pretty loud already. He hasn't heard anything like this, either.
"Apparently it's the first off-worlder concert Omega's seen in years," Garrus says. "Even if I wasn't a fan, I'd be here just for the change from all the terrible local bands."
"No, I mean - I've never been to a concert before." Garrus stares at him, mandibles flared in astonishment, and he didn't think he needed to point it out but apparently he does: "It's not like any bands are lining up to play Invictus, and I've never bothered with the bands here."
"Nothing on Palaven when you had shore leave from boot camp?"
Lantar shrugs. He was barely aware of Palaveni pop culture at fifteen, and had lacked both the friends to clue him in like Garrus is obliviously, happily doing these days and the credits to go to any concerts.
"Spirits," says Garrus, and Lantar braces himself for disappointment, disgust at his lack of knowledge, but what Garrus actually says is, "You are in for such a great first concert."
Touched, Lantar lets Garrus pull him through the crowd. Garrus has been watching some of Expel 10's live performances on the extranet in preparation for tonight, so he trusts his opinion of this being a good first concert for him. Maybe it could even turn him around on the whole music thing.
"I haven't heard a lot from Crush:Crash:Crunch," Garrus adds, referring to the opening act, a local band whom Lantar's heard of from their occasional gigs around Omega but not actually listened to. "I've been meaning to check out some of their songs, but we've been so busy with work."
"Who kept us that busy?" Lantar teases, and Garrus's mandibles twitch with self deprecatory amusement.
"3C doesn't compare to Expel 10, but they're the best band on Omega," says a nearby asari, and as she and Garrus start discussing both bands, Lantar tries to follow the conversation, he really does, but he doesn't know either band's music well enough.
This must be part of why Garrus wanted to come here, he realizes: Being able to talk about music with fellow fans, yelling about his favorites in person instead of on the extranet. There's a sense of community here, one not built on fear or desperation or greed like most on Omega, and Lantar doesn't feel like he's a part of it, but he can watch it, here in front of him with Garrus and "Morinth," she eventually introduces herself, and on all sides. Even a krogan and a salarian are being friendly nearby.
Wait. No. The krogan woman just mentioned Undertow, one of the more recent street names for Hallex, and he's pretty sure that's not in the lyrics of any of Expel 10's songs Garrus has made him listen to.
He drifts closer, careful to make it look like he's being bumped along by the crowd, even more careful to make it look like he's just checking his omni-tool and not eavesdropping, and oh shit this is definitely a drug deal and definitely the drug that Garrus tracked to Omega all the way from the Citadel. They should have expected this at a concert; he's heard of drug deals happening at the smaller local gigs too, albeit not usually for something as strong as Hallex. In what seems an odd reversal of the genophage, the salarian's buying from the krogan, and they're friendly enough that she must be his regular dealer. Given that Blood Pack usually deals in violence, not drugs, this indicates that if she's with a gang, it must be one of the smaller ones trying to use drugs to find a foothold.
On their first date? Seriously?
Still keeping an eye on the dealer (the hard part is looking like he's not), Lantar finds his way back to Garrus, who is now standing far closer to that asari than he needs to be, but given his body language, Lantar suspects (hopes) Morinth was the one who moved in on him.
"Hey, babe," he says, and immediately feels like an idiot, especially when Garrus raises a browplate, but the asari's miniscule backing off is gratifying. "Can I borrow you?"
"Sure," says Garrus. "Talk to you later, Morinth."
As Lantar pulls him away and Morinth slinks into the crowd, Garrus echoes, "'Babe'?" with his mandibles twitching.
"She was -" Lantar starts, and of all reactions, Garrus smiles.
"Yeah, I know," Garrus says, which is a surprise, because Lantar's pretty sure he hadn't noticed that half the team's been half in love with him at some point or another. "But I'm here with you. I didn't just come here to talk to other fans, or I would have come alone."
Just like that, his growing bubble of jealousy pops. "Okay."
"Where'd you disappear to, anyway?"
Very deliberately, Lantar keeps his eyes on him with barely a head incline in the direction he mentions. "Eighty degrees, the woman in red." He flashes him the hand signals they've half remembered from boot camp and half adapted for Archangel use with some of their teammates' signals: Krogan. Dealer. Hallex.
Garrus looks aggrieved. "I've been looking forward to this concert for orbits. I don't want to miss Expel 10."
"I've been looking forward to this date," Lantar says, his tone light.
"So have I," Garrus says quickly, but Lantar figures he's sincere, and nods, looking at him expectantly. After a moment, Garrus sighs. "And I've been trying to wipe that out for cycles," he says, which, really, Lantar expected. With a fond look, he puts a hand on Lantar's waist. "Thanks for keeping me focused."
It's only for a moment, the affection fading into Archangel determination. "Did you track her?"
"Visuals only," he says; Garrus has a better view right now. "Didn't bring anything and couldn't get close enough."
"Okay," says Garrus, his gaze somewhere past him, probably following the dealer. "We can work with that."
With a sly look that Lantar regrets is more for anyone looking than for him, Garrus takes his hand and starts pulling him through the crowd again, turning him around so that they can both get eyes on her as they weave past Garrus's fellow fans. She seems to be heading for the lower level, which helps make them look more believable as a couple looking for privacy.
The crowd thins out as they get closer to the exit. Once they leave the ground floor, the only concert goers are, like they're pretending to be, couples and more getting some quick together time before the show starts; mostly the back corridor is full of Afterlife's usual scum, albeit much less armed than usual. From what he's read on the extranet, Expel 10 had booked a concert on Omega on the condition that weapons would be checked at the door, and supposedly Aria's staff started that rule early so that nothing would be snuck in before people started arriving for the concert. From the looks of things back here, some of them took bribes while Aria wasn't looking.
Not wanting to participate in bribery, Lantar and Garrus had turned in the guns they usually carry around the station, but that doesn't make them any less lethal, especially as the staff didn't look at omni-tools nor shield generators, and would have no idea about all the hand to hand training Garrus has put the team through. By the time they catch up to the dealer in an alley off the VIP entrance, both their omniblades are glowing steadily orange before them, though the woman, being krogan, doesn't look particularly afraid of them.
"What do you want?" she demands.
"The Hallex you sold to that salarian," says Garrus - no, Archangel, he's clacking his mandibles and there's that familiar threat in his subvocal. "Who's your supplier?"
Apparently that threatening subvocal is not as audible to krogan as past encounters have led Lantar to believe, because she simply rolls her eyes. "Who wants to know?"
This is normally the type of question that gets an "Archangel" out of Garrus, but they're in street clothes without firearms (which probably also explains her lack of fear). "We do, damn," Lantar blurts out, and because Garrus is looking at him sideways and the dealer's looking even less impressed, he improvises, "Because we're looking to get into the business ourselves."
What, Garrus hand signals, his face stony though his gaze is still on the dealer.
"You're not going to get far pointing omniblades in people's faces," she points out dryly. "Even if I was looking for employees."
Lowering his omniblade somewhat (he can feel Garrus's gaze flicking to him in alarm), Lantar shakes his head. "No, more like - coworkers," he invents. "We don't really see Hallex in our district - real gap in the market."
She studies him, and eventually says, "You two in Gozu District?"
Garrus has been eying property in Kima District, but Lantar nods.
"My supplier's been wanting to sell there but had trouble with the Blue Suns, even before Archangel started causing problems for everyone," she says. "Unlike me, you'll blend in."
"So I take it you're not dealing for the Blue Suns," Garrus says, finally willing to play along with Lantar's absurd story.
The woman points out a small design on her paudron, some red slashes over a white circle. "I'm with the Talons," she says. "They're alright, for turians. Full offense."
"All of it taken," Lantar replies agreeably.
"Unlike Blood Pack, they don't lose their minds over a female living outside the home worlds," she says. "More disciplined than your omni waving, though."
"We'll keep that in mind if they decide they want to work with us," says Lantar. He deactivates his omniblade, pulls up a notetaking app instead, and swings the interface around for her to use. "Here."
She types in a name and an address. "Tell her Targah sent you. And leave your pretty boy behind if he's going to be rude and threatening the entire time. Save him for the buyers who don't pay up."
Lantar barely manages to hold in a laugh at Garrus's offended expression as he finally deactivates his omniblade. "Thanks, Targah."
"You're welcome..." She leaves him room for his own name.
"Jorax," he blurts out; the team recently watched Last of the Legion together. "The pretty boy's Bellicus."
Targah nods. "Maybe I'll see you around."
Garrus's mandibles are drawn as Targah leaves, until Lantar brushes a hand over his hip.
"Hey," he says, putting his omni-tool to sleep. "Sorry for taking over there -"
"I don't mind you taking the lead; you have more experience talking to lowlifes without a gun or the law on your side," Garrus says, which is a rather kind comparison of his upbringing on Invictus to Garrus's past career in C-Sec. "I don't like watching her walk away."
Lantar winces - Archangel's usual approach to drug dealers is to kill them - and tries to joke it off: "Krogan asses -"
"But you got us a lead," adds Garrus, gesturing at his omni-tool. "If that name's legit, you got us a dealer - a source, not just an onseller like her. And you got information, too. I wasn't too worried about the Talons, but it's interesting that they want to expand."
He brightens, and more when he sees Garrus's mandibles tilting upwards in approval. "So you're good?"
Garrus pulls him close to press their foreheads together, and Lantar's breath catches. "No," he says. "You're good."
"I try," Lantar replies, wrapping his arms around him.
He enjoys the moment, their closeness a moment longer before Garrus says, "But you know who else is good? Expel 10."
"Shit, the concert!"
They run back to the ground floor, Garrus recapping his conversation with Morinth for him and concluding that he doesn't mind too much if they missed Crush:Crash:Crunch, as they can always catch another one of their concerts.
"But if we missed even one Expel 10 song, I'm going to kill every last Talon in that place she told you," Garrus adds, and Lantar laughs breathlessly, though he's not entirely sure Garrus is joking.
The stage is still empty when they get back, and it's far too crowded to reclaim their earlier spot fairly close to the stage, but the energy's different now, more charged in its anticipation.
"Has it started yet?" Lantar asks a nearby vorcha.
"3C done," the vorcha screeches, the species' natural volume for once appropriate in the packed concert. "Best 3C show yet! How you miss?"
Lantar catches Garrus's eye, and grins. "Got too excited about Expel 10," he says, keeping up the cover they'd gone for earlier. "You know how it is."
"Breed at show," the vorcha deduces, and cackles. Garrus looks faintly horrified by the sound, but Lantar's had longer on Omega to become familiar with the sound of vorcha laughter. "No more miss! Expel 10 come."
"That's the plan," says Garrus, and suddenly the lights dim.
"What's happening?" Lantar asks, as people start to scream - but no, that's... delight? Definitely not fear.
Garrus's eyes, once Lantar's adjust to the darkness, are alight with exhilaration. "It's starting."
For one night only, the dancers' circular stage has been extended; earlier he saw instruments set up in the spot facing Aria's window. There's a bigger stage downstairs, Lantar's watched dancers on it before, but he supposes this level can fit more people, and the tall holoscreen can show the band to those facing a different part of the stage, like him and Garrus now.
So he sees the silhouettes of the band members on the holo before he sees their shadows coming onto the stage out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't thought it possible for the packed club to get even louder but they do; even Garrus yells when lights come up on the band and they suddenly take up the whole holo.
"One, two," the singer counts off. "One, two, three, four!"
The song they launch into is one Garrus has had Lantar listen to before, but Garrus's gentle bouncing next to him had been nothing compared to some of the dancing and thrashing around here. Lantar lets himself be moved with the crowd, but sticks close to Garrus, and Garrus reaches out and holds him by the waist, less to dance with him and more so that they don't get separated. It's a grounding element in an unexpectedly overwhelming experience: Expel 10's a sensory band, and he can feel it so much more with the subwoofers picking up all the bass Garrus's headset couldn't handle, the singer's subharmonics getting under his skin when he could only barely hear them on the recording and suddenly adding new meaning to the lyrics.
He's just starting to get used to it when on a repeated section, the singer yells, "Sing it with me!" and holds her microphone out to the audience, though Lantar's not convinced it even has enough range to pick them up from the stage.
Something not many people in Archangel know about Garrus is that he can't carry a tune. He can pitch his voice to terrify someone as Archangel or to send very different shivers down Lantar's spine as himself; he can listen to amateur music cover vids on the extranet and tell where they've deviated from the original. But he can't reproduce a melody himself, his intervals between notes very rarely correct and often changing the key.
Here, in this great roar of sound, it doesn't matter. The crowd howls the lyrics around him, the melody lost in all the attempts to sing as loudly as possible, and Garrus's voice is caught up in that too, his mandibles tipped upwards and his eyes so bright. No one cares if they're in tune, Lantar realizes, only about being part of the moment, part of this joy and communion with the music.
Garrus looks like he's having the time of his life, happier even than when a particularly clever or risky tactic of his pays off, and it's contagious. Lantar had come here intending to see something that makes Garrus happy but now he's enjoying it himself, letting out a whoop of his own when on the next song, the singer starts strutting around the stage to where they can see her as a person, not just a projection.
The hours pass in a blur of dancing, music, energy, and Garrus. When they finally emerge from Afterlife, Lantar's still tapping the beat of the encore song on his thigh, and here he'd only heard the song a couple of times before this concert.
"Looks like someone enjoyed himself," Garrus says, somehow managing to pull off smugness despite his voice being so hoarse that all he has left in him is low and quiet and accidentally seductive. "Expel 10 has a new fan."
"Not Expel 10," he protests; Lantar's mostly kept his voice, not knowing most of the lyrics or yelling at every remotely cool thing a band member did like Garrus. "Or not necessarily Expel 10. I didn't - I didn't know music could do that." Not from recordings nor people playing makeshift instruments until the parts got stolen for scrap.
"Do what?"
Tug your heart. Unite people. Make them feel like they're part of something. It flies through Lantar's head all at once, forcing him to just shrug.
To his surprise, Garrus nods. "Yeah, it can," he says. "That's why - why I love it, why I listen to it in fights."
"That, I still don't get," Lantar says, shaking his head. "It's so - it's like that, how do you not get distracted?"
Garrus looks thoughtful. "Why don't I show you?"
"What, you're going to sync me in with your audio link on the next job?" Lantar scoffs. Sounds like a way to get him or both of them killed. "I don't think so."
"I was thinking on the range, during practice," says Garrus, and Lantar feels a little stupid. "Or sparring."
"Yeah, okay," says Lantar. "We could try that."
"Good," says Garrus, and abruptly he presses his forehead against Lantar's. "Thanks for coming with me. I know music's not really your thing, so it seemed a little unfair for a first date -"
"No, thanks for sharing it with me," Lantar says, surprised that this had occurred to him. "I liked seeing you so excited about something, and I had fun too."
"I had fun seeing you handle that dealer," says Garrus, and this time that pitch to his voice has to be deliberate, not just the remnant from his screaming, because there's a glint in his eyes just before he tilts his head and kisses him, firm, deliberate, even more magical than that entire concert. With a pleased sound against his mouthplates, Lantar pulls him closer, tucking his arms into his carapace.
Garrus is just starting to deepen the kiss when the sound of the same vorcha from earlier laughing at them makes him almost recoil away from Lantar. Chuckling, Lantar shakes his head.
"Excited again," says the vorcha. "Go breed at home!"
"Piss off," Lantar says, in too good a mood to put much heat behind it, and they watch the vorcha go.
Only once they're relatively alone again does Garrus step closer and cup his jaw in his hand, tracing his markings with one talon. Lantar leans into his touch.
"I'll see you tomorrow," says Garrus. "We'll work your lead on the Talons, figure out a plan with the squad."
"It's a date."
"It's not a date with the whole squad there," Garrus splutters.
Mandibles twitching, Lantar kisses him again.