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***
Vido didn't like to messy his hands with any actual work. He was a genius when it came to logistics: making sure supplies ended up where they needed to be, officials looked the other way, and he had a neat trick of rubbing two credits together and ending up with a tidy pile seemingly out of nowhere. When it came to training men, organizing the tactics of a job, or recruiting, that was left to Zaeed. And apparently finding a fancy whore to dangle on Vido's arm counted as 'recruiting'.
“Just make sure she doesn't bankrupt us.” was the only preference he specified before going back to his datapad.
The Asari madame had thankfully cut all the normal bullshit pleasantries of going through a goddamn tea ceremony and endless euphemistic conversations to 'discern his needs', and instead ushered him straight into a room with a dozen beautiful women lounging on tasteful furniture or mixing drinks. Zaeed wondered if Vido had already made those overtures ahead of time, or it was the fact that he had reduced her secretary to tears when he refused to take off his armour to 'get comfortable'.
His mood immediately perked up as they fluttered around him, a perfumed harem of gorgeous human and Asari women, speaking to him in whispers and running feather-light fingertips down his arms or through his hair. It was certainly a welcome change of pace from the normal type of recruiting he did, which usually involved bars that stank of spilled alcohol, territory fights with other companies or the tried and true method of prowling the alleys of Omega. One redhead in particular even conjured a vintage Earth whisky out of the air for him before coyly shifting the sheer material over her breasts for him – now that was goddamn service.
It was amidst the soft coo's and sultry looks that Zaeed heard a disdained chuckle floating on the air from across the room. From out of the corner of his eye he saw, of all things, a Quarian woman sitting by herself on one of the couches. Even though he couldn't see her face, from that one haughty trickle of laughter, he was sure she was watching him with disdain. He gently extricated himself from the protesting arms, slammed back his drink, and made his way over to the lone observer.
“You're not the type I'd expect to see here.”
She didn't even turn to look at him, the regal carriage of her shoulders merely lifting a millimetre to further underscore her aloofness. “I'm not interested in what your expectations are, Mr. Massani.”
He sat down beside her, jostling her with his hip, which earned him a sharp disapproving turn of her head.“You're a long way from the Migrant Fleet, sweetheart.”
Her enviro-suit was black, and upon closer inspection he noticed there were delicate filigrees and patterns embroidered along the hood. It held a sheen to it in the dim mood lighting that reminded him of satin, and when she finally answered him her voice made him think of fingers running along that same material.
“I'm on my Pilgrimage.”
He wasn't sure why, but against her cool tones he felt a little self-conscious about the roughness of his own voice. “In a whorehouse?”
She gave him another sharp turn of her head, the two dots of light glowing from her mask seeming to sharpen. “Even for a crude species you're surprisingly apt with casual rudeness, Mr. Massani.”
He scratched absently at the stubble beginning to grow around his jaw. “Well then you'd better spit out your name, sweetheart. I'm at a disadvantage here.”
“Daro'Xen.”
An Asari sauntered to him, gently tugging on his arm with a come-hither smile, trying to pull him back to the other crowd of escorts. Impatiently, he waved her away.
“I've just never met a Quarian who would take...this line of work, over being elbow deep in an engine.”
From her sigh he could imagine her rolling her eyes. “Well far be it for me to be judged by my people's creative limitations. I've never been one to curtail my ambitions.”
“Don't you get a sniffle anytime you're on the job?”
She gave an annoyed little huff then, the light on her mask blinking in irritation. “Aren't you full of questions?”
He gave her a sideways grin that resembled an animal baring its teeth, placing his arm on the couch so that it rested behind her head. He could never resist taking a stuck-up bitch down a peg, and his 'casual rudeness' seemed to be getting under her skin. He noted with satisfaction she inched forward slightly so his arm wouldn't make contact with the back of her hood.
“What I'm doing for my pilgrimage here, I assure you, goes beyond the dull rutting and pawing of the job description. I've developed prototype immunization boosters that would allow my people a greater advantage with every aspect of their lives.”
She waved a dismissive hand around her. “And every innovation requires practical experimentation and a workable body of field tests. The complexity of the technology would be beyond you.”
He chuckled, a low growl in the back of his throat, at the barb nestled in her words and her “so-much-better-than-you” attitude. He hadn't earned himself a reputation already for being one of the most dangerous killers for hire without being able to read people correctly, and for all of her icy arrogance she was laid out for him like a book.
“You lie back and think of Rannoch, then? How fucking noble of you.”
Her hand twitched, as if she was about to raise it to slap him. The small motion didn't go unnoticed, and neither did the acknowledging shit-eating grin on his face. Her breathing quickened, he noticed, as she held back her anger at having to 'keep her place'. A smug bitch like her, he was sure it drove her up the wall.
She finally settled back into the cover of her calculated indifference. “You're boring me, Mr. Massani.”
“I'm sure it must bore you to have to call the likes of me 'Mister.'”
She laughed, an icy ripple that he was beginning to enjoy the sound of. “A hired thug who's self-aware. Who would have thought?”
“Knows more than you.” He ran a few fingers along the fabric of her hood, it felt as good as he'd imagined, and then he patted his thigh. When she just stared at him, the two dots of light unblinking, he spread his legs a little wider in invitation. “Have a seat.”
A ripple of indignation trembled through her and her spine went rigid. He gave her a long moment before he lowly growled, “A thug holding the credits, sweetheart.”
She jerkily unfolded her limbs, her hands tensing into fists, as she slowly inched onto his lap as if she could prolong the moment by wishing hard enough. He wrapped a hand around her waist and settled her more comfortably, her muscles tense as steel beneath his touch.
“I bet you don't get a lot of repeat business with that kind of attitude, sweetheart.”
Her voice could snap-freeze water. “The allure and curiosity of what's beneath my suit affords me many test subjects.”
His lips were inches away from where her ear would be, and his voice was low. “Who's selling the fantasy now, sweetheart?”
He ran his hand along the curve of her hip and she closed her fingers over his wrist, daring him to continue. She ground out, “If you're interested in humiliation then the Asari making eyes at you over there has a well-stocked cabinet of paraphernalia. But as that's far beyond my interest or purview, I think we're done here.”
“What, no kiss?”
She made an outraged noise and made to stand up, but he placed a firm hand along the edge of her mask and forced her to turn to face him. Her grip tightened on his arm, but he refused to let her look away. “I had you pegged the moment you spoke, sweetheart. If you want to entertain some other moneyed bastard who's just a pathetic boy with an alien fetish and a grimy cock who doesn't know how to use his tongue-”
She held up a hand in disgust to signal she'd heard enough of that line of thought.
“Didn't think so. Beneath you, is it? I know what you want.”
She gave another annoyed 'huff', and a slight motion of her mask that let him know she was rolling her eyes. “And would that be your unique charms?”
“I think you want a challenge, Daro'Xen.”
Whether it was the sincerity of his tone, or the unexpected use of her name, she looked back at him as if she was honestly looking at him for the first time since he'd approached her. When he saw that he had her attention, he continued.
“I need a woman who can circuit a room and have every man simultaneously want to shove his cock in her, but also goddamn blush because that's not how you're supposed to think about classy dames. I need you to have every other painted whore in there spitting nails because she knows you're a notch above and so does her man. And you've got to act like you're goddamn happy to be on the arm of the man you're with. Think you can handle it?”
He knew she was intrigued because she had softened in his arms and was looking in his direction intently. Though there was still a sneer in her voice, it was halfhearted and he knew he had her. “With you that's a nigh impossible task, Mr. Massani.”
“It won't be with me, but my partner. He's probably more to your tastes. Got a prettier mug than mine.”
She tilted her head slightly and gave an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders, and he was sure that was a smirk. Satisfied, he gave her hip another squeeze and then pulled her gently off his lap.
“Good. I hope you have something to wear to an opera.”
***
When he had informed the madame of his decision she had drawn up the contract with a slight, surprised lift of her eyebrows. Vido had the same misgivings, though he expressed it with an exasperated sigh and a groaned curse.
“I get you to do one thing and you spend a month's share of our credits on a fucking Quarian? What's the point if she can't flash her tits at a crowd, let alone show her face?”
Zaeed merely grunted, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against Vido's desk. “Trust me, mate, she's got the snotty attitude for it. Those smug, rich bastards will eat her up.”
Vido just grumbled that he couldn't trust Zaeed to even pick out a pretty whore and looked over the schematics of the Hon'a'Rai opera house. It was an old institution that dripped a veneer of wealth and stuffiness that hid the sleaze and bad behaviour of its esteemed patrons. It was like the politician who couldn't quite hide the twitches of a red sand fix no matter how expensive their suit. The job had annoyed Zaeed from the beginning, but they had accepted on Vido's insistence that the payload was a shit ton of credits they needed to fund the Blue Suns. Better guns that didn't jam on you every other thermal clip, and armour that hadn't been patched so many times by inexpert hands that it would break apart from a hard stare.
“A place like this is goddamn constipated,” Zaeed had groused, frowning over the strict entrance policies, lack of accessible exits and amount of security. He would have been happier if it were the kind of job where he could run in guns blazing, but their bounty wasn't some ugly bastard's head this time, it was sensitive information that could cause a diplomatic incident stored on a secure drive. And being carried by the artistic director herself until it could be transferred securely and in person to a Salarian ambassador. A goddamn moving target – just to add to how fiddly the operation was going to be.
“You leave the sweet talking and rubbing elbows to me. You'd stick out like a sore thumb, cursing like a batarian pirate and with a face like a blunt axe.” Vido had chuckled at his own joke, but Zaeed had quickly relinquished the task without debate. He was on goddamn transport, waiting in the skycar to pick them up and listening in via comm link. Boring as piss, but at least he was going to drive.
Vido stopped complaining about Zaeed's choice in escort when Daro'Xen showed up to rehearse her cover story for the opera. She was all purrs and swaying hips and teasing fingers along his arm. She seduced him with throaty chuckles, suggestive yet intelligent conversation, and her impressive knowledge of Asari music and culture. They danced to a preview of the evening's piece in the dank warehouse Vido had set up his temporary office, and left with a hint of perfume lingering amongst the mildew. Zaeed had ignored them, cleaning his guns on an upturned crate in the corner, but Daro'Xen had shot him a look over Vido's shoulder and he had given her a slight nod back in return.
“She'll do?” He asked with a grunt, giving Jessie one last polish.
Vido had a stupid grin on his face, still watching the door she had exited from. “If she wears something that shows off her ass like that...”
***
Of course Vido had gone and fucked it up before they could even get sneered at by the valet. One of their men had gone to pick up Daro'Xen and when they arrived it was to see Vido leaking blood through his nose, his eyebrow split, and Zaeed finishing off the mouthy krogan who had confronted them by the skycar. He had run into a Volus banker he had pissed off over a gambling debt before, and the little mouth-breathing shit had set loose some hired thugs on him.
"Ah, you always hit like a girl, Santiago," Zaeed groused as he gave the krogan bodyguard one last good kick in the quad for good measure. "Always cleaning up your messes."
"Stop it! Are you two insane?" Daro'Xen had run up to them, helping Vido to his feet. She gave a disgusted noise at the sight of his face, conjuring a handkerchief out of her sleeve. Vido groaned, pressing it up against his nose to try and stop the bleeding.
She was wearing different robes over her enviro-suit, and Zaeed wasn't sure if one could technically call it a dress, but it certainly clung to her in all the right areas. The sleeves looked as if they'd been painted on, and there was fabric draped tastefully over her hips that fell down to her ankles in an elegant train.
"This is impossible," she sighed, and then began to unbutton Vido's shirt.
He spoke as if he had a headcold, his nose stuffed up with blood. "I don't know if this is the time, honey-"
"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped, "you're going to drip blood all over the suit." She shot a glare at Zaeed and then ordered, "Strip."
They both stared at her nonplussed and from the way she rested her hand on the top of her mask, as if she was trying to massage away a headache, he got the impression that they looked like two naughty boys who had been fighting in a school yard and was caught by the matron.
"You can't go to the Hon'a'Rai opera looking as if you've just come out of a street brawl." Her voice dropped several degrees in temperature. "It's a place of culture."
Zaeed protested, "Do I look goddamned cultured to you?"
"No. But at least whatever marks you have on your face aren't fresh." She was all business, stripping Vido out of the expensive suit jacket and shirt, casting a stern gaze over them to inspect for any blood, before she smoothed out the wrinkles. He moodily shrugged her off, snapping that he could take off his own pants, and ducked into the skycar to change in the backseat.
"Do you need help in taking off your armour, Mr. Massani, or are you an adult that can dress himself?"
Zaeed took the hint, snatching the suit shirt and jacket away from her, grumbling under his breath, and went behind the skycar for some semblance of modesty. He gave a hollow laugh back at her when she added further insult to injury by sneering, "I was promised a man's arm to hold onto tonight."
Zaeed and Vido were similar in height and build, but Zaeed's shoulders were broader and his arms thicker. The shirt felt a little tight around his chest, but he figured he passed inspection when Daro'Xen looked him up and down and declared, "It will have to do."
She got into the skycar after insisting Zaeed hold out the door for her, determined to train him in how to act like a gentleman using what little time they had left before the doors to the Hon'a'Rai opened. Vido settled into the passenger's seat, groaning and still holding the handkerchief to his nose. Blood was smeared all over his hand and down his face, he looked a goddamn mess.
"Here," Daro'Xen twisted over in the seat and tugged Zaeed over to her, slipping a strip of black silk around his neck. He fought the instinct to shove her away from him, having to mentally remind himself she wasn't trying to garrotte him. For now.
"What the hell is that?"
Her voice was a dangerous purr that dissuaded him from arguing with her further. "It's a tie." She rested her elbows on his chest as her clever fingers deftly manipulating the silk, then nestled the knot of the tie just under his throat. He winced, tugging at it with a finger until she slapped the offending digit away from her handiwork.
"Comm link," Vido rasped, tossing Zaeed the small bud that would slip unobtrusively into his ear. "Don't fuck this up, Massani."
"Kiss my arse, Vido, you stupid goddamn-"
Daro'Xen placed a finger to Zaeed's lips. "I would refrain from speaking overly much when we're inside. Mr. Vettrini is supposed to be a gentleman of class and manners."
Zaeed frowned. "Is that the poncy name you picked for yourself?"
Vido flipped him a rude hand gesture before tossing the tickets into his lap. Zaeed rested his head against the seat of the skycar with an irritated 'thump!'. He wasn't sure who was unhappiest about the change of plans, and even if he couldn't see her expression, he would bet good money on Daro'Xen.
***
His skin was crawling as he felt like every eye in the opera house slid up his suit to his face, held back a look of disapproval or astonishment, and then wandered over to the Quarian woman on his arm. At least gazes lingered on her and away from him. She was sinuous and dripping elegance, steering him firmly around the lobby and making polite overtures on their behalf.
"Don't scowl," she muttered under her breath, hiding it under another throaty chuckle as a red-faced human man kissed the top of her hand.
"I don't feel like goddamn smiling."
She squeezed his arm. "I didn't say smile either, you'd probably terrify everyone in here. They'd think you were baring your teeth to rip their throats out."
He chuckled a little at that and felt a little of the tension leave his shoulders. He moved his arm down to rest in the small of her back as the doors to the theatre opened and the patrons began filing inside. Vido had scored tickets for a private box so that he could be discreet when leaving mid-way through the production. Zaeed ushered Daro'Xen to take the stairs before him, getting good eyeful of her rather shapely backside. She wasn't being shy tonight either, her hips moving with an entrancing little swing.
"You eat this stuff up, don't you?" He growled lowly by her ear when he pulled out her seat. She settled into it gracefully, expertly moving the folds of her robes so that it fooled one into thinking she had revealed something she hadn't.
"There's something to be said for the unspoken debauchery underneath the play of courtesies."
Zaeed just rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a lot of goddamn fuss to me."
"I'm sure it would to you."
Zaeed jerked his chin at the audience below them, and the other private boxes. "You can put a suit on a man and drape a pretty girl on his arm, but he's still a goddamn animal underneath. These bastards might have enough credits to buy a planet, but they're still scum that just want the same things any man wants."
Daro'Xen had her head tilted curiously at him, though her voice still held its sardonic drawl. "Are you going to regale me with another crude laundry list of unpleasantries?"
Zaeed grunted, shrugging self-consciously and tugging again at the strangling tie around his neck. "They just want to feel like they're in control."
That seemed to surprise her as she didn't snap back with a cutting remark, but instead continued to hold him pinned down with her scrutinizing gaze. Finally, in a softer voice, she said, "That's rather astute of you."
"Yeah, well," Zaeed plucked at his own expensive suit, "I would know, wouldn't I? I'm just more honest about it."
"Honest may not be the word I use…but I can see your point." She then crooked a finger under his chin, pulling his face closer and easing an arm on his lap as she leaned closer in. He raised a curious eyebrow, trying to hold back a stupid grin.
She seemed to have noticed, however, as she whispered, "The lights still haven't gone down and you're not being subtle about watching that Salarian in the box across from us. It's suspicious."
"What do you know about it?" But she shushed him and continued to play with his hair.
Despite having provided a cover for him to keep an eye on his target over her shoulder, he found he could care less about the job for the moment and gave his undivided attention to the soft feel of fabric against his skin. His hand snaked around her thigh, inching up to just brush against the swell of her arse, until there was a call for silence and the opera's artistic director took the stage for an opening statement.
"Mr. Massani…" She purred, as he ran his fingers up and down the length of her thigh. "…you should pay attention to the opera."
His breath caught in his throat, the ambient noise and stirrings of music seemed to swell around him as if he were surfacing from underwater. He scowled as the trance was broken and she settled firmly back into her own chair. There was a chorus of Asari on the stage, singing the opening refrains of something that sounded eerie and breathless.
Daro'Xen was watching them intently, a finger resting against the side of her mask. Well, someone was enjoying it at least. Zaeed looked at the private box across from him and the Salarian ambassador was busy fidgeting with his omni-tool, still conducting some kind of business.
The singing went up an octave and he shuddered. He didn't like high-pitched noises. Daro'Xen shot him another look as if even him breathing offended her.
"Don't tell me this is your idea of a good time?"
"It's beautiful."
Zaeed snorted, not bothering to hold back a laugh, and her spine stiffened. "It sounds like they've stuck those flutes up their backsides and-"
She held him off with a raised hand. "Keelah. Should anyone ask your thoughts on the production you should keep your comments to yourself. Or just say you found it 'intriguing'. That should be vague enough for an unbridled thug such as yourself."
"I don't plan on hanging around long enough to leave a goddamn comment card."
She gave him a shrewd look, or at least the two dots of light shining through her mask seemed calculating to him. "Are you here to kill the Salarian ambassador?"
Zaeed tensed for a moment, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in conversation. He didn't know how much Vido had told her, and he wasn't keen on sharing shop secrets with her. "What would you know about it, sweetheart?"
"You've paid him more attention than to anyone else tonight."
"Jealous?"
"Hardly." He inwardly grinned at the snarl in her voice, but she pressed on. "Why else would a Blue Sun attend an opera he clearly doesn't appreciate for?"
The corners of his mouth tugged downward and he regarded her with a frown. "You weren't paid to ask questions, sweetheart. It's for your own good."
Vido was going apeshit in his ear, telling him not to be a fucking idiot, shut up and concentrate on the job. Zaeed had forgotten until that moment that Vido had been listening through the comm link in his ear the entire time.
She wasn't done however, casting her gaze in the direction of the opposite box. "If you say so. Whatever it is, he's left."
Shit.
Zaeed got up out of the seat, instinctively checking to make sure the pistol holstered to his thigh was still in place underneath the tailored slacks. Daro'Xen grabbed at his arm, startled by the sudden disruption, and he shook her loose.
"You enjoy the show, sweetheart."
"Absolutely not!" To his annoyance she followed him out of the box, demanding to know where he was going. He was tempted to clamp a hand over her mouth to shut her up in case they attracted the attention of security, but there was no easy way to do that to a woman with a mask.
"You want to leave me alone while you go off to assassinate someone?" She hissed, still dogging his steps as he tried to find his way to the back rooms of the opera house.
"I'm not going to kill the bastard," he growled, tugging a door open and slipping inside. He didn't close it fast enough and Daro'Xen slunk in behind him, still furious. Zaeed was about to snap at her to be quiet when they heard footsteps coming down the hallway.
"Goddamnit, woman-"
"Shut up!" She grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him towards her. He almost lost his footing, his hand slamming against the wall by her head as he fell forward and making an unfortunately loud bang! The footsteps hurried down the hallway, and Daro'Xen quickly snaked her arms around his neck and pulled his face right down to her mask. He could see his breath pluming onto its shiny surface.
"Excuse me! Oh-"
Daro'Xen had already wrapped her leg around his, and Zaeed looked over his shoulder to see a flustered Asari server, holding a tray of glasses and a bottle of wine. She blushed until there was a purple bloom across her cheeks as Daro'Xen hadn't allowed the interruption to stop her from own explorations up his back.
"If you don't want to join in, get lost, sweetheart." If anything the poor server went an even deeper shade of purple and looked like she was ready to bolt at any second.
"Oh, and I'll have that." Zaeed swiped the bottle of wine off the plate.
"Get a glass." He plucked a wineglass off the tray at Daro'Xen's instruction as well, and finally the Asari server made a hasty exit with breathless apologies for interrupting them.
"That was rather cruel of us," Daro'Xen intoned, a chuckle running through her voice as she leaned back against the wall, her hand still resting on his hip. He looked down at her from his excellent vantage point to view her breasts, and leaned closer in.
"You enjoyed it, though. Sneaky bitch."
She tilted her head slightly to watch as one of his hands ran lightly down the middle of her chest down to her belly, and she shivered. Just as they began to trail below her waist, she asked, "Aren't you on a schedule?"
"Fuck the schedule," he rasped, feeling a traitorous stirring inside the expensive pants that were just slightly too short in the leg for him, but the mood was ruined when he heard Vido spit curses and threats at him in his ear.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself off the wall. At the last moment he remembered to hold out his arm for her, and Daro'Xen smoothed the front of her skirts before clasping it without a hint of embarrassment. He pulled the cork out of the wine bottle with his teeth and spat it out to the side, though, which earned him a disapproving 'huff'.
"At least pour some into the glass before you drink from the neck like a savage."
He obliged, though a thought struck him and he raised a puzzled eyebrow. "How are you supposed to drink this?"
She took the glass from him, holding it delicately by the stem in her free hand, and seemed unruffled. "You would be amazed by what can be accomplished by a woman with a glass of wine in her hand."
As they hurried down the now abandoned hallway, navigating the length of the theatre behind the stage, he realized she had somehow tagged herself along for the ride. He was cutting it too close to time to be able to tell her off either.
The drop-off point, according to their intel, was the secure chest the libretto for tonight's opera was kept. Vido had mumbled something about it being tradition for the original copy to be used, Asari maestro blah, theatre superstition blah - all Zaeed was concerned with was that chest would be opened again at intermission for the second half of the opera and the Salarian ambassador would have picked up the secure drive from that chest by then. He had to switch the drive with a dummy before then.
He wasn't sure what had set the ambassador's schedule ahead of time, perhaps Daro'Xen had been right and he'd spooked the Salarian by staring too much, but he knew he was mere moments before the entire operation went tits up.
She pushed him aside when he started hacking the locked door to the director's office, mumbling something about how human hands were too clumsy. He watched as her own nimble fingers manipulated the code interface and he found the movements strangely graceful. As if she were weaving, or rather, unpicking a tightly woven web as easily as if she were writing out her name. Within seconds the doors hissed open.
He felt another traitorous stirring in the pit of his stomach when he imagined what other things those fingers could do, but roughly pushed those thoughts to the side. There was a job to do.
"Surveillance?" She whispered.
He held up a remote hacking drone and tossed it down the hallway. Within seconds it sent out a data burst that interrupted the signals of the surveillance cameras inside. He heard another noise from her that was the equivalent of her rolling her eyes, but made no further comment.
"Goddamn." They had rushed in and were suddenly staring at a security mech activating and unfolding into a guard position.
"This area is restricted to all personnel."
Zaeed had his pistol drawn in a second, ready to fire until the damn thing dropped dead. Daro'Xen leapt in front of him, batting his arm away and grabbed the arm of the security mech that had now raised its own weapon. Before he had a chance to react, or for the mech to fire, she had whipped it around, ripped out a panel on its back and pulled out its combat sensor in a smoky hiss, and spitting wires.
There was the smell of burning ozone in the air as she casually let the mech drop to her feet, flicking away its electronic guts with her patent disdain.
"I'm beginning to like you." His voice sounded hoarse to his ears.
She just nodded towards the secure chest and then bent over the mech, busily replacing the sensor and repairing the wires so her fast work wouldn't leave a mark. He busied himself with cracking open the lock on the chest, but snuck a peek over at her. She was bent over, completely lost to the task at hand, and maybe it had him a bit of a sick bastard, but the sight of a woman in a flattering dress having just eviscerated a goddamn robot was strangely arousing.
He swapped the drives, stuffing the incriminating one down the back of his slacks, and snapped the chest lid shut. Daro'Xen was done with the mech, it stood no chance under her technical prowess, and it was tucked back away into its default deactivated position as if nothing had disturbed it. He resisted the urge to give her a cheeky smack on the arse, he was pretending to be a gentleman tonight, but he pictured it in his mind. Hard.
Just as she straightened up, they heard the sound of the door opening behind them. Zaeed felt a surge of panic wash over him. Out of time. Daro'Xen motioned impatiently for him to put away his gun.
The Salarian ambassador walked in and then froze, shocked that there was someone else in the office. "You can't be in here-"
Daro'Xen drew herself up with an impressively haughty shake of her head, ignoring the ambassador completely. "I suspected as much, you bastard."
She then flung the contents of her wineglass in Zaeed's face, much to his and the ambassador's surprise. He felt it drip unpleasantly down his neck.
"Watch the suit, woman!"
She whipped her head around and stormed out of the office, the very picture of a woman on the warpath for revenge. Zaeed and the ambassador watched her leave and then stared at each other for a moment, wine still dripping down his hair, and then Zaeed gave a little shrug.
"I…should go apologize."
The ambassador gave him a sympathetic nod, as if to commiserate on the misery of dealing with women. Zaeed tried to walk out of the office with as much dignity as he could.
The ambassador called after him, as an afterthought, "Did you at least enjoy the opera?"
"It was intriguing."
***
Daro'Xen laughed at the sopping, wet sight of him when they were out of earshot. Tenderly, she tucked her hand around his arm again, and nuzzled her mask against the side of his face. He wondered if that was the Quarian equivalent of an apologetic kiss on the cheek.
He finally ripped the tie from his throat and tried to mop up his face with it, despite her outraged protests that he was ruining perfectly good silk.
"It was your goddamn idea to cause a scene like that."
"I know, it was marvellous." And she was off into another throaty, delighted chuckle.
"You've ruined my suit."
"I didn't think you'd care."
He only had to think about that for a moment. "I don't."
They got a couple curious looks from the ushers as they exited the lobby, but Zaeed supposed the stupid grin on his face and the airy laughter of the woman on his arm were what made them shake their heads good-naturedly, one even flipping him a quick 'thumb's up'.
Once they were outside the cool night air sent a pleasant shiver down his neck, though he was growing a little uncomfortable at the sticky dampness of his shirt sticking to his chest. They still had a few minutes until the skycar left its secure location to come pick them up at the front of the Hon'a'Rai.
On an impulse, Zaeed ripped the comm link out of his ear and crushed it underfoot. He'd let Vido bitch at him later. He took Daro'Xen's hand in his and gave her an ungainly twirl, which nonetheless had the desired effect of having her land against his chest, pressed right up against him.
"Still too rough and rude for you, sweetheart?"
"You're a boor, Massani."
"Zaeed."
Her head tilted again in a question, but her fingers curled around his neck and stroked the Blue Sun's tattoo stamped on the side of his neck. "Zaeed, then. You certainly need more instruction in the finer arts of being a gentleman."
"You going to teach me?"
"I'm not a patient instructor."
He sighed in frustration as he settled his hand on the side of her mask. She seemed to understand his impatience, laughing again as she squirmed teasingly in his arms, and he groaned. "Don't be such a fucking tease, woman."
"Here." She pushed against him until he released her, and she took a step back. She fiddled with something along the edge of her mask, and he heard something click open. He saw that a clasp had opened and he saw the barest hint of her jaw. His fingers itched to stroke along it.
"Breathe into there."
Still puzzled, he bent down and closed his lips over the opening. The metal was surprisingly warm against his lips, and he blew in gently. It was the strangest first kiss he had ever had. When he pulled away, she quickly sealed up the opening on her mask again.
Still seeing the confusion on his face, she explained, "Now my immune system will be able to adjust to your foreign bodies, allowing for the appropriate antibodies to form for other contact."
He growled, "You make everything sound so goddamn clinical?"
She just chuckled again, that deep throaty purr that he was fast wanting to hear more and more often, and she flicked a finger under his chin. "Do you remember what I told you about the work I'm doing for my Pilgrimage?"
"Yeah."
"Well," he could hear the word roll around on her tongue and it sent goosebumps up his arms, "this kind of intimate connection for a Quarian normally takes anywhere from one to two weeks before the immune system adjusts."
The disappointment must have been clear on his face as she pulled him in again, her hips lightly grinding against his own and causing his breath to hitch in his throat. She nudged the edge of her mask against his jaw again, whispering, "With my prototype it only takes three days."
The groan of anticipation left his lips before he could control himself.
"Do you think you can be that patient?"
She pulled back from him then, saucy bitch, and if a woman could look smug with a mask covering her face, then Daro'Xen embodied it. And he was just fine with that. It had been an intriguing night at the opera.