[Rori's of Nos Astra] Issues, Anonymous

"Ugh. Yeah, don't bother searching around for local entertainment, it's kind of...singularly flavored."

Ninety percent of her conversations ending up revolving around Apricity in some way had begun to wear hard on the quarian as the year had gone by. Her passion being cut off from her was bad enough; having to be perpetually 'outside looking in' because of her proximity to Daia (who had nothing approaching an off switch, so to speak) was a steady stream of salt in the wound.

There was more than a little envy and resentment in her frustration, but then, she had stopped considering herself a particularly good person years ago.

"Tell you what, we'll just take in the locale sometime and relax. There's a nice park near my penthouse, for example, uh...I don't know, do you like board games?" That was a shot in the dark, people of his intellect tended to enjoy strategy-based activities, so... "I mean, not like Never Mind The Pyjaks: The Game Of The Movie, more like pyramid chess or Matriarch or..."

A thought sprung to life in the back of her mind, an almost incidental memory - Daia, bless her, had saved the chest from her room when the Reapers had attacked Old Nos Astra, and if the chest was around somewhere, that meant a very special Clash At Arachnus set was around somewhere...

"...actually, Clash At Arachnus. Yes. I have a custom setup I think you'll like."

If there was one thing aliens should never challenge a drell to, it was chess. Being equipped with a perfect and eternal memory meant that any drell, just by looking, could instantly memorize every single strategy available, from the simplest beginners' levels to the stratagems of the galaxy's champions. Due to this, drell were often ostracized at championships, or at the very least, segregated; the only way to even stall them as an alien was to employ a complete lack of tactics, which tended to befuddle them more than anything.

Ana wanted to play chess? Oh, he would play that board. He'd play it like a fiddle.

"That, I can do," said Cerastes with a grin. A custom set-up? Maybe it'd be new to him, if only until the mechanics set in. "What have you customized about it? I was unaware that there was much evolution left in the game, given its age."

Cerastes' hubris was well-founded, which meant Ana'Therion probably had an agenda. (She did, of course.)

"Ah, the set? Well." Hopefully none of it had broken in the chaos, otherwise she was going to do some frantic last-minute replacement and that shit was probably expensive now. "It's only part holo, takes a little setup to get going. The pieces and the framework are physical, and all the units on both sides are shot glasses. So when you take a piece, you drink it."

She'd gotten it from another drell, a few years back. Better days, wild and stupid and dangerous though they'd been.

"Historically, it's resulted in some fun games. Usually better play from me, too. Not that that's saying much; I'm terrible at Clash At Arachnus. Either way, you probably want to use a cab or autopilot instead of driving."

There was a hint of a smirk in her voice.

"Sound good to you? Just the right combination of highbrow intellectual entertainment and irresponsible self-indulgence."

Shot glasses for pieces? Now that was something Cerastes hadn't heard before. It was surprising to him that a quarian, of all people ("not that I'm racist, but"), would have a game in which shots were on the line - to his impeccable recollection, their species was not exactly known for holding their liquor.

Still, a challenge was a challenge, and Ana had sealed the fate of a future evening with that line about the cab.

"Cute," retorted Cerastes, "but I have a feeling I'll be more than capable of making my own way back to the hotel afterwards. I assume we'll be playing this at your residence, then; it'll be to your benefit."

His hands re-clasped atop the table, shoulders set back confidently. Few people challenged him intellectually these days, and the chance to operate on his hubris was ever so enticing.

"It's a date."

It wasn't, really, but he was utilizing the phrase colloquially. The server had returned amidst their discussion, and Cerastes - knowing that Ana wouldn't be able to tell - had slipped him his credit chit in advance. There was no way he'd allow a lady to pay for his lunch.

He responded predictably to being needled. Ana filed this away for future reference, as she did with most of her acquaintances, and resolved to prod the drell every once in a while, just to keep him engaged.

"They always come in so confident," she demurred, faux-mournfully. "Ah, actually...lately I'm a little averse to letting people I'm not totally familiar with into my home. I mean, I don't want my bondmate to think I'm cheating, and plus there was..." Unpleasant memories flashed in her head: cracked rib, bruised liver, sheer 'I'm going to die' terror. "...I'll tell you about it next time. Anyway, there's a nice greenhouse park near me, the Eighth Memorial Rec Center. Uh, it's not literally the eighth one that's opened here since the war, it was named for the Eighth Squadron. The point is, I was thinking maybe we could get one of the rooms and play a couple rounds of Clash there."

Kind of an embarrassing point to clarify, but well, here we were.

"I mean, if that's not inconvenient."

The competitive spark was content to lull for now. Cerastes chuckled at Ana's parting shot, the sound deep, throaty; strangely pleasant, coming from him. He took another sip of his water and waited for the server to return with the checkbook.

"Perfectly reasonable," he said in turn. Suggesting they play at her residence was a faux-pas on his part, he had to admit. Any woman would be suspicious of letting a strange man into her home, let alone one who worked as an information broker. She had every reason to be wary. "As long as the police won't be called on you upon our leaving, that is. Are the locals in this area strict on public intoxication? I typically dwell around Omega, which is a very different beast, you understand."

Fingers rapped thoughtfully atop the table. If Ana'therion wanted to play a game of booze-flavored, custom chess, that was alright by him (although he really wasn't much of a drinker, himself), but a visit by the local authorities would complicate his stay on Illium. He still had two weeks left; having to go dark for the remainder of that time would be an absolute slog.

"Well, there are ordinances, of course, but there's an automated taxi station right outside the park, so it's not like there's a huge window of opportunity for the NAPD to swoop in on you." A tiny thrill raceed down Ana's spine, and she leaned in with a big grin and twisted the knife. "Besides, you'll be quite capable of driving, I thought. You should be just fine, shouldn't you?"

Yes, this was going to be a good friend to have. He was easy to needle. Not too much, of course - the trick was finding people who kind of liked it and then just maintaining a proper balance.

"I might be able to make reservations, depending on how busy they are that day. I can't exactly play the 'I'm a co-CEO' card to make up for the 'quarian' card, since Daia's the face of Envirometrics - don't get me wrong, that's probably a good thing, I don't really have a face anymore - but maybe I can just get Vale to ask nicely for me." Running her hands along the side of the table, Ana examined its contours. She had never been to Rori's before the war, so she had no idea what the raised design actually looked like, but it felt like it looked charming, if that made any sense. "You might want to drag along some booze, just in case. I'll raid the liquor cabinet, but I can't guarantee we have anything you'll like."

After a moment, the quarian glanced around, agitation seeping into her tone.

"Have you seen our server? If I'm going to treat you to lunch I kinda need him to come around once in a while..."

"You'll note my concern was for your wellbeing, Ms. Therion," he returned smoothly. "It would be unseemly of me as a gentleman to not ensure a safe means by which you can get home."

The needling was working, but Ana had just the right amount of balance to ensure that it didn't go beyond playful insult. As he remembered them, most successful relationships (both friendship and otherwise, though he was unfamiliar with the latter) required some form of mutual antagonism; returning fire was an excellent bonding process.

"If there's a concern about securing a room, I am more than certain I could settle the matter." By obtaining personal information and using it illegally, but he didn't have to say that. "And the server is absent because the meal has already been paid for. I believe he is... ah, yes, he's running another card in the back."

Checkmate.

"Would gin suit you?"

"'Ana', please. We're friends, aren't we? And while your concern is appreciated, it'd hardly--"

There was a long, frigid pause as Cerastes revealed that he'd already paid for lunch.

At last: "Well, then." From her tone, at least she wasn't mad at him or anything, so the drell could relax. "I suppose you outmaneuvered me there. I was hoping to do something nice for you, since you helped me find the table, but I suppose that'll have to wait until next time." She wasn't upset, of course, mostly just agitated that he'd managed to do it before she had. Now he'd gotten her the coffee table and paid for their afternoon. Augh.

"Anyway, gin will be fine. I know I have Scheherazade, but that's not really for shots, it's more of a sipping liquor. Uh...if I have any Red Devil in the cabinet, I'll bring that. No reason not to put the best foot forward, so to speak."

She considered adding 'if it's not too spicy for you', but Cerastes had taken enough grief in the past few minutes. No reason to belabor him.

He let the realization sink in. Ana might not have been able to see the quiet, smug smile her company wore, but she could certainly sense it in the way he spoke.

As he pocketed his credit chit, Cerastes replied in an amused tone, "Very well, 'Ana' it is. If you're attempting to tip me in the future, you may wish to do so in a different way; you're not going to get your chit past me."

Ahh, sweet victory. The drell leaned back in his seat and shifted his leg, a grimace crossing his visage as the nerves set alight. He'd have to take more of the painkillers soon, and following them would be the antibiotics, since he'd just eaten. The cocktail of medicine to which he'd been assigned post-surgery was maddening, but he was no rebel: he'd take them as was necessary, just so long as he could get his leg back.

"Red Devil happens to be what I have with me," he lied. "When do you want to do this? I assume you'll need time to prepare."

It was both a playful jab and a sincere concern - being a quarian, Ana might need to ensure the health of her liver in some arcane manner before their next outing.

"Don't get smug. I'd run interference and find a way to pay them off myself if I could."

She couldn't, of course - it was impossible to move quickly, being as she didn't know the layout of the place and saw exclusively through the suit's sensors. Additionally, the analgesics and minor stims she'd injected before setting off had begun to fade, and Ana was beginning to feel fatigued, with the pain from her burn scars starting to hurt just a little more when she spoke or moved. Oh well. She had spares on hand, in case it got too bad before she made it home.

"Well, it's settled then," she said, smoothly avoiding 'it's a date'. Mixed messages were the worst thing in the galaxy, and Ana was not about to start sending them, even unintentionally. "I shouldn't need too long, maybe just a while to make sure the set's still intact and I have the liquor. Let's make it a weekend thing - two days from now?"

Granted, if anything in the set had been broken, it would be a hectic two days. It had been pretty secure in the chest, though, so that was a minimal risk at best.

"That works well enough for me." Two days - that would give him just enough time to finish replying to all of the clients he'd left in the dark while he was hospitalized. There was nothing more irritating than a slew of impatient clients messaging you at every hour, and if he was going to go out and even try to have a good time, he needed those persistent voices silenced. A few discounts would have to be given, perhaps extra tidbits of information here and there; frustrating, frustrating.

Sensing that it was time for the afternoon outing to end, Cerastes rose to his feet and stood just close enough to Ana's to offer her assistance if necessary. He habitually leaned his weight on his good leg, though the strain of the brace reminded him seconds later to re-distribute it properly.

"This was pleasant," he began, unsure of how to word it. His social graces were lacking. "Call me when you are ready, and we'll meet; I will secure my own transportation, but if you need assistance, I can arrange for it for you as well."

Ana rose in turn. She suspected Cerastes might have been offering to help her up, but the haptic feedback wasn't nearly good enough to be totally sure, and after one incident where she'd assumed help was being offered and promptly groped the potential business contact standing next to her, it was not an area in which she took chances.

"Oh, it's extremely close to my penthouse," she answered. "I'll be able to get there and back just fine, I think - thank you for offering, though." Ana took a breath, then stepped back and did that weird half-bow-half-nod that asari sometimes did in business situations. She'd become fairly well-versed in it this year, and with no way to pick up nonverbal cues it was impossible to tell if someone was receptive to a handshake or...really kind of friendly gesture. Hugs, high fives, whatever.

"See you round, Cerastes. I'm looking forward to the weekend."

She turned and strode out of the deli - cautiously, as usual, but with a bit of a spring in her step. It'd been a good afternoon.

"Of course."

Well, maybe getting out for a few hours every now and then wasn't so awful, after all. Cerastes followed Ana a few steps behind her, careful to ensure that his footsteps made sound as he moved. Having spent the past fifteen years engrossed in a world of stealth and intrigue, it was difficult at times to turn off the subtle things; the silence of his movements, the way his eyes flicked rapidly over his surroundings as they changed. At least she couldn't see that.

The pair paused at the exit, at which point Cerastes tipped his head to Ana and started off in the opposite direction.

"We'll see how you feel about that the morning after," he called. "In the meantime - stay safe, Ana."

Knowing how the galaxy tended to treat Ana'therion, it was a well-wishing she needed, but perhaps now with slightly less desperation.

Fin