[Omega, Carnage Club] Crime Pays

"Not a clever move, considering an information broker never keeps everything in just one database."

Cerastes' eyes remained focus on the commotion below. Things were about to get interesting, after all, and he didn't want to miss a moment of the real action - which, for him, was quite different than what it was for everyone else in the establishment. Instead of watching the fight, Cerastes was following the crowd, searching for the familiar big players that'd be around this time of night. Knowing who had which clubs in hand was always a plus.

The salarian emerged from the crowd, only to be greeted by boos and hisses. Cerastes kept his eyes on the few individuals who failed to react.

"Ms. Vedral, Jil," he decided to give the quarian a break - no need to push, "For a change, I have a question for the both of you. I have been researching brands of wine that are compatible with quarian physiology as of late, and the selections, while slim, have a remarkably broad range of reviews. It leaves a bit too much to the imagination. Would either of you happen to have a little insight into the matter?"

"Don't do wine."

Shirin's tone was meandering, very casual - it seemed she was half-focused on the conversation, probably because she was simultaneously watching the salarian bob and weave in the pit. He seemed reluctant to lock up with Dead Reckoning (reasonable, considering he was...well, a salarian) and settled for a pinpoint strike every now and then, when the krogan's considerable momentum left him off-balance and open.

She was reasonably sure the salarian (what was his name? He hadn't even gotten announced properly) wasn't going to kill Dead Reckoning, or even knock him out...or even knock him over. But the way she saw it, the odds of him running the clock down long enough to win were getting better and better.

"Seriously, it's a terrible idea. Anything quarians drink has to be filtered and detoxed and it ends up tasting terrible. You could get a 2010 Primo Rojo and it'd be like drinking antifreeze by the point it was safe for quarians." Both eyes shifted away from the pit for a moment, focusing on Cerastes. "Jil can probably back me up on that one. If you're looking to impress a client, get them...I don't know, a piece of tech. A VI upgrade, or something. Hang on, I'll link you to the software retailer I use..."

There was a moment of silence as she brought up the omnitool, and then an 'oooohhhhh' from the crowd. Evidently someone had struck a blow. Shirin quietly cursed at having missed it.

"I'll forward the link to your business email." A pause. "...Heh. The retards on that extranet forum you two visit were wondering what made my old man tick, apparently."

"Aw, you're looking to buy me a drink, Cer?"

The quarian's snicker was audible, or would have been if not for the boo's starting to come from the crowd as the fight below dragged on and on. They'd expected a quick victory for Dead Reckoning, and the resilience of a salarian, of all things, was starting to worry them.

"Well, Shirin's right, don't bother with wine. Nothing too fancy, really. A bottle of something turian and strong, properly filtered, is your best bet. Still has a bit of the original flavor and it's strong so it's not being drunk for the taste to begin with. I should warn you, though, that I don't put out on the first date."

The mention of Shirin's father left Jil mostly silent. It was an obsession of hers, and he had no right to judge her on that, but it didn't tend to bode well.

Seconds later, Cerastes' omnitool lit up as Shirin sent him the link. He squinted at it briefly, noting the name, then looked back to the crowd below. A few expressions had changed - those who knew, those who didn't - but otherwise, everything was progressing as expected. He wondered if they'd have the luck of getting any more limbs thrown up over the railings tonight.

"Jil, I'm glad you've managed to determine my affections for you," sighed the broker. "I've been trying to contain it, but the way you wrote those countless, myriad, unforgettable IMs was just... well, you know."

The grin he offered to Jil was ever-so-slight, but both the quarian and Shirin would be able to see it without problem.

"To digress, turian, hm? A particular brand?" he folded his arms on top of the table as he rumbled in thought. "Tech is a good idea, but this is a more casual occasion." A glance was passed once more to Shirin when she brought up her father. "I can't imagine why. Based on what I've found on him, he'd likely... how do I put it... 'skullfuck' the majority of them if they had ever encountered one another face-to-face."

"Jil's right, both about the strength of the drink and him not putting out easily," Shirin said dryly. "You may have to wear him down with erotic poetry first."

The antagonism between the two was evident, but it was nowhere near levels that could theoretically complicate future operations. If anything, it seemed mostly tongue-in-cheek, albeit probably rooted in some kind of legitimate dislike. (She certainly couldn't blame the quarian for being annoyed at Cerastes disassembling the surveillance equipment. In fact, Shirin had been ready to exact some vengeance for that particular incident, but in retrospect, having kneed him in the balls six or seven times had been retribution enough.)

In response to Cerastes: "Basic Dunning-Kruger. Lack of knowledge has never stopped people from being convinced that their opinion is well-formulated and worth sharing with everyone nearby. Somebody who realizes they were ignorant about that issue could just, y'know...ask me, but the mark of the seriously worthless is an inability to acknowledge their own limitations, so...there you go."

A few enraged shouts rose around the crowd as Dead Reckoning missed a charge and bounced his head off one of the pit's walls.

"Jil, I think you're about to be a small sum richer."

"Turian because they're the only ones putting out lots of drinks that are the right chirality. Brand doesn't make a big difference thanks to the filtration we need, but if you're making the gesture I'd prefer something expensive. If there's no sacrifice behind it there's no meaning, after all."

The booing from the crowd intensified as Shirin's prophecy came ever closer to fruition, and despite himself Jil couldn't help but get a bit excited that there might be some credits coming his way. Not a huge amount, obviously, but enough for a few nights out on the town.

...Actually, he hadn't really given much thought to his bank balance lately. He had a stable place to live on the Wheelbarrow and anything he really needed he could get on the cheap, so his funds had more or less been just... Stockpiling?.. since hooking up with Shirin and the others. It was something he'd have to look into later.

"...you can kind of understand why people wouldn't want to ask you about your mass-murderer dad, right? Not only is it a potentially awkward topic, but who knows what runs in drell families. You might be even worse than him. I mean, obviously you're not, but other people don't know that. Them not asking you is self-preservation, as far as they're concerned."

"True enough." Cerastes thought of Ana, her partner, and their finances (with which he was, of course, familiar); put together, the two business moguls would have more than enough to afford a bottle of fine liquor now and then. Unfortunately, booze was the one variety of gift he could rely on: after the Reapers struck, there were few who didn't turn to alcohol these days, or at least appreciate its recreational value. "I'm a bit unfamiliar with her tastes, I'll just have to find something when I land back on Illium, I suppose."

Which was... not optimum, given his propensity towards being prepared well in advance for this sort of thing, but it would have to do. He was distracted shortly by the grinning visage of a human in the crowd, one who had previously been incredibly dismayed.

"Do you see the human down there with the red hat?" asked Cerastes, pointedly looking away from him. "The batarian he's talking to is far out of his league, but he's not a regular here. I'm assuming he just got screwed over. Based upon old four-eyes' track record, I estimate the human will have his throat slit and his cock cut off within, let's guess, an hour and forty-two minutes. They'll likely dump the body off of Shraz and 56th; his men favor the whore-drenched alleys of Omega."

The drell looked thoughtfully to the salarian in the ring, who was now officially turning the tide.

"Messy, but it gets the message across. Your father might have done the same, but he'd do it smiling. Jil is closer to the head than you might suppose, Ms. Vedral; people don't ask because they assume they know the answer, they don't ask because they're afraid."

"I'm not? Stick around a few more months, Jil, mark my words."

Usually that kind of statement would be accompanied by faux-seriousness or a joking tone; Shirin just kind of threw it out there, tonelessly and almost disinterested. Perhaps it was an inevitability - the longer one stayed around her, the more likely one was to see her do something incredibly reprehensible.

Either way, she moved on. "Not sure I'd go to 'fear' as my first explanation. People, especially extranet people with distance and what they hope is anonymity on their side, don't fear you unless you give them a reason to. I keep myself low-key enough that it's generally not going to happen." Catlike pupils watched as Dead Reckoning futilely tried to catch the salarian with a tackle. "Better to be unexpected than feared. Regardless, the point stands; I could give them the answer they're after in one word. It's 'weakness'. Because the--"

Hang on.

Wait.

Back up back up back up back up.


What?

"Wait, 'her'?!" Shirin blurted, rather ungracefully. "Are you tipping hookers in booze? Look, that's not nearly as classy as you think it is. Just include a bigger sum next time."

"Time's up! Time's up! What an upset!" the speakers blared. "Dead Reckoning has lost his three thousand credit forfeit to, uh, to...MANNOVAI SERIN KAHTRAYLE NEEMO V...hell with it, to the FROGSTERIOUS STRANGER!"

"I'm not so sure 'afraid' is quite what I meant... It's more precautionary than anything. Hell, I avoid bringing it up whenever I can, and I'm pretty sure you like, or at least need, me."

Left unsaid was that when Shirin had personal things on her mind, her demeanor changed and her planning suffered somewhat. It hadn't really stung them yet, thankfully, but if Cerastes had been anybody other than who and what he was, it might have.

"Anyways, we just made a good bit of money, so what do you think? I'm tempted to pull out the initial 1500 creds and gamble with the rest - anything we walk away with is pure profit. If you can read the next fight as well as you did that one, we might do okay. In the meantime, drinks are on me!"

"Given that she's a quarian," began Cerastes, his red gaze shifting to Shirin, "she would make an extraordinarily poor prostitute, don't you think?"

He let the statement slide for a moment as he took a sip from his tonic; it was running low. A quick gesture to a passing server indicated he was ready for another. Apparently, tonight was Cerastes' night to relax.

"I'm aware that you may fancy yourself the only woman that I interact with on a routine basis, but the truth of the matter is, Ms. Vedral, that I am perfectly capable of meeting people regardless of their social sphere." The drell leaned over the railing to get a better view of the crowd below, the exchanges of looks and credits. "In any case, I was unable to meet with her before my visitation to Omega, so. ... I assumed a gesture is at least in order."

It was hubris alone that kept him from informing his present company that his newfound friend was just that: a friend, and a married one, too. Cerastes had never been a man for relationships or romance, but he liked to believe that, if he really wanted to, he could do it - which was perhaps one of the bigger insecurities he had.

"I would recommend gambling in a similar fashion, if so, Mr. Jil," said the broker. "Ms. Vedral is keen on the business and appears to know how it 'works,' so to speak. Listen to her well, despite her faults."

Shirin did like Jil, even on a personal level beyond his usefulness, but she wasn't about to tell him that. No reason to make him feel unduly secure in resting on his laurels. Besides, she'd just won him a bunch of credits, that was good enough.

An "Uh huh," clearly unconvinced, was all she spared for Cerastes.

"Now, returning to the Carnage Club, the exotic, the undefeated Bhairavi T'Lir! No one has ever held up against her biotic punches! She's killed four men in the pit already, and now she's back to issue an open challenge! Anyone who can defeat Bhairavi will receive the sum of two and a half thousand credits, plus the eternal adulation of--"

As the announcer continued to drone, Shirin pushed her chair back and stood up.

"Gonna step out for a minute, I'll be right back," she murmured to Jil'Korah. "If you want my advice on this one, I'd say go in heavy against Bhairavi."

With a pinpoint turn and a clop of heels on synthcrete, she vanished.

"I wonder," Cerastes half-growled, his eyes following Shirin as she departed, "if she acts that way with everyone, or if it's just lucky old me."

Jil'Korah thought about his response for a moment, pretending to be distracted by his omnitool.

"Nope, it's just you, for sure."

It was everybody.

"Any idea where she went? She told me to bet against the uh, undefeated champion, which is probably just because the announcer hyped her so much that it has to be a setup, right? I mean, that's what they did with Dead Reckoning, yeah? Man, this'd be a lot easier with her here. Why'd you have to do that?"

He hadn't, and Jil had actually already placed a reasonable bet on the next fight, following Shirin's advice. He was capable of doing such things on his own, but only a fool ignored the opinion of an expert in their field, and Shirin certainly qualified as an expert in this field.

"My assumption would be that she is going to overthrow the champion in a fit of bravado."

Cerastes held his glass to his lips, idly sipping from it as he squinted over the railing. Sure enough, he saw a familiar green form weaving through the throngs below; Shirin looked surprisingly tiny against the crowd, almost feminine, but he knew better than to underestimate her - unlike the morons lining the ring.

"Yep," sighed the broker. "Might as well put in our chips on her winning, then. I wonder what the hell it is that makes her so violent towards me."

His scaled brow furrowed. It was almost enough to make him want to get in the ring with her and tear at her for a few minutes (until she inevitably unmanned him).

"Maybe she's never met another drell."

It was certainly possible, as she'd been raised in a primarily batarian nation.

Nonetheless, there was no way Cerastes was getting an answer from the woman herself, as the announcer's roar of "The Emerald Death, Shirin Vedraaaaaaaaal" had drowned out everything in a ten-meter radius. Even if she could hear him, though, there was no guarantee he would've gotten an answer.

Probably not, knowing Shirin.

"Maybe it's because you're a bit of a dick?"

What followed was the worst travesty of an impersonation ever attempted, and shall not be put on record here. Had there been any historians present, they would have spent decades debating whether Jil'Korah was deliberately terrible or simply terrible. Thankfully, there were none, and the only records of the event would live on in Cerastes' memory forever.

"I mean, when you act like that all the time, what do you expect?"

Cerastes looked completely bored by Jil's impersonation of him.

"I am not a dick."

He totally was.

"I simply respond to people in the same manner that they choose to react to me," he added. It didn't help much. "For example: you hacked my ship after I made a perfectly justifiable attempt at escaping my cell on the Wheelbarrow (may I reiterate: fire). In exchange, I revealed how easy it is to learn all of your horrible, sordid secrets." The broker gave a shrug as Shirin stepped into the ring and stared down her opponent. "It is regrettable that your 'shit' had to be damaged in the process of my escape, but your response was uncalled for, so... that tends to be how things go."

The sound of Shirin's fist making its first connection into the 'champion's' skull echoed throughout the building. Yeah, that was definitely going to hurt for the next few years.

"In Shirin's case, she physically assaulted me after I assisted her with her personal project."

"Y'know what the common factor in those stories is? You. Specifically, you being a dick. Based on those samples, Shirin and I are quite possibly delightful people half the time, but you're consistently a dick."

Okay, that wasn't strictly true. Shirin was never a dick but consistently scary, and Jil'Korah took great pleasure in being a bit of a dick, but that was why he'd emphasized the sample size.

"I mean, consider things from my perspective: I saw an obviously sad drell locked in a closet on the ship, I reached out a hand in friendship, and he responded by giving me a lot more work to do. Of course I wanted to get him for that, and when I did he responded by threatening to slander me! I'm an innocent victim, here, and all because I tried to be nice!"

For such an innocent victim, he was absolutely terrible at pretending to be one. You'd think a quarian would have the act down, but apparently not.

That is not an entirely accurate representation of events.
I know, that's the point.
As a neutral third party, I must concur with Cerastes that his reactions have been entirely reasonable.

Fucking suit.

In the ring below, Shirin was making mincemeat of the so-called champion. Cerastes watched with a bemused expression as she grappled with the asari - ah, giving the crowd a show, there - then abruptly ducked down and rammed her in the midsection with her shoulder, doubling her over.

Jil was still talking.

There was certainly art to her finesse, of course, but it was pure viciousness that made her fun to watch. She knew what she was doing, and not only that, she knew how to do it stylishly, which made her a fantastic element at a place such as the Carnage Club. Cerastes knew personally, however, that the woman was damn well capable of dropping all of that show in an instant in order to bite, claw, and knee-in-the-ball her way to victory.

Jil was still fucking talking.

The champion was looking worse for wear. Cerastes tossed a glance to the men and women he'd been watching before, who were... not very happy, at present. Ahh. Well, if he left with Shirin, they'd likely get jumped on the way out; thankfully, he'd thought to wear his stealth-suit underneath his attire tonight.

A blessed silence reigned. It was time to respond.

"Sorry, what?"

Jil was, of course, paying plenty of attention to the fight - he had money riding on it, after all - but, largely thanks to Ensemble, the quarian had become a masterful multitasker. Sadly not everybody else shared that ability, and so he wasn't totally surprised that Cerastes had stopped listening.

"I said you are so a dick."

He didn't really have anything else to add, this time - the fight was intensifying and Cerastes had already zoned out of the conversation, so Jil focused completely on the events below.