[Nos Astra, Illium] Do You Like Huey Lewis and the News?

Cerastes had apparently found the "line" with Ana. It was a matter of testing the waters, a state that all relationships went through early on, and he'd perhaps stepped a bit too far into the deep-end. He quietly filed this experience away for future reference.

"Mmmhm," he hummed in acknowledgement. "All right, Ms. Ana, I will grant you the benefit of the doubt. Two years on Omega would give you ample understanding of the nature of the beast, although I still find it difficult to picture you there." The scales of his brow lifted as he looked her over appraisingly. She could probably feel it. "It doesn't suit you. No offense, of course."

He sounded amused by the end, but the drell was done stringing at that nerve for now.

"As far as a 'type' goes, what exactly do you think that is?" Red eyes ducked over the tags and cases as Ana pushed them aside. He decided to stop reading for now, since she seemed to have lost interest. "I've been nothing but a gentleman to you."

"No, no it doesn't. You're right about that."

This was dredging up some stuff that she'd really have preferred never to think about again, but Ana was very well-qualified to assert that denial, as far as psychological mechanisms went, wasn't terribly good for you. Besides, she thought to herself, Cerastes probably already knew most of this. It was his job to gather data, and it wasn't like she'd always been totally reticent on the extranet. If she lied, he'd probably know, and then he wouldn't trust her.

Or he'd trust her even less. Probably a more realistic projection, that.

"I was younger, and a hell of a lot dumber," she mused. "Naive kid fresh out of grad school, convinced she could go out there and...I don't know. Even from the beginning I don't think I was stupid enough to think I could make a difference in Omega overall, but it seemed like somewhere that a lot of people needed the kind of help I'd been trained to provide. Don't get me wrong, it was, but...maybe I hadn't learned well enough, or I didn't have enough drive, or...well."

It was all of the above. She wasn't qualified to treat most of the people she'd been working with. Just like them, there was something fundamentally, pathologically wrong with her. It'd taken too long to see that, though, and by then...well, a lesson was learned, as a great krogan had once said, but the damage was irreversible.

"You have been very gentlemanly," she admitted, nudging the drell's ribs with a very light elbow, "and a good friend so far. That does not preclude you being Mr. Fuck The Police. Trust me, I'm not condemning you or anything, I've had friends - legit, trusted friends - who I guarantee have done worse shit than whatever you have. So don't get me wrong, I'm the least qualified person to make moral pronouncements in...pretty much ever."

She grinned a little at him.

"At the same time, don't think I'm not aware of what your line of work entails when you're based in the Terminus. I'm just saying, you don't have to pretend to be all straightlaced with me. Judgment-free zone and all that."

"I pick flowers for elderly women," Cerastes retorted, ever so persistently. It bothered him in retrospect, because there were no flowers on Omega. He should have selected a better example.

Well, if Ana was so confidently asserting herself, he supposed he could let up a little. A 'little' being emphasized, there; as an information broker, Cerastes was practically hard-wired to dodge questions, provide half-truths, and change topics whenever possible. He wasn't used to talking personally one-on-one, and he definitely wasn't very good at talking about himself. If the quarian wanted to know more, it was going to take some prodding (and a bountiful amount of time).

"Coincidentally, there are no police on Omega, not in the sense that you're thinking." He leaned forward, the nudge in his side acknowledged with a grunt, and re-acquired his coffee. It was cold by now, but he didn't care. "Nevertheless, it's likely for the best that you don't know all the details. In this line of work, knowledge is equally as empowering as it is endangering; it can very easily get you into trouble."

Oh, right. Socializing meant connotations were involved. Realizing that what he said could have come off as a threat, Cerastes reached over and awkwardly patted Ana on the knee. There. That fixed it.

"You seem to regret your time out there," he began anew. "A woman like yourself seems more fit to Illium, though. Omega is... a different animal, post-war, but a varren doesn't change its claws. The population is more organized than it was before, which makes it that much more of a threat." The drell rubbed his hands together, his elbows resting atop his knees. "Are you hurting, Ana? You said you were already out before I arrived."

"Can't say I'm much of an Illium fan, either," Ana groused, "being as it's a racist gentrified urban tomb, but at least it's not Omega, yeah. You don't run the risk of getting shot walking down the damn street." A pause. "Well, I'm sure you don't run that risk on Omega, but I was kind of a...I think law enforcement types call it a 'high-opportunity target'. I spent at least ninety-five percent of most days inside." Another pause. "...You know, much like now."

Ana'Therion was more than a little bitter about life, and it tended to show in any non-Daia conversation that went for more than thirty seconds. Case in point.

"Nah, I'm fine." It was not wholly true (her joints were having a fit), but she was feeling a lot more active and had woken up considerably since they'd started. "Got a lot more energy going."

The water was helping, too. It didn't exactly have any energy-bestowing properties, but the chill was helping her wake up for sure.

"So what do you do outside of work, Cerastes? Do you have, like, someone you're close to, or a hobby, or..."

"You're short, have a light frame, and appear delicate, as a result of being a quarian; not to be specist, but it is simply a perception that others will put upon you," said Cerastes. "Designating you as a 'high profile' target is only logical."

He shook his cup of coffee and frowned at the hollow sound that came in answer. As always, the drell had gulped down his caffiene far too quickly; if he were on the Eidolon, he'd have simply made another pot to satisfy himself, but he was in the company of a woman now, which meant - married or not - he was going to have to just deal with it.

After a glance towards Ana's near-empty canister, Cerastes rose from his seat and wandered over to the kitchen once more in search of a replacement.

The question that Ana posed to him as he was digging in the cooler was the worst he could have imagined. Essentially, it amounted to "tell me about yourself," which was the question he'd always dreaded most in any social interaction. To put it plainly, Cerastes didn't know the answer; he'd spent so much time engrossed in his work over the past two decades that he hardly understood himself anymore on an intimate, personal level. The parts of him that were true, that posed as an indiviual, had long-since been lost to the data he fed upon.

The corners to Cerastes' lips twitched uncertainly. He looked at the canister in his hand, frozen and ready.

"... I drink coffee," he answered. "Sometimes, I sleep."

The penthouse's view only covered one half of the city surrounding it - the apartment's western side housed the sealed clean-rooms, bathrooms, service units, and other necessary obstacles to an unimpeded 360-degree view - and the only place the rooftop landing pad was visible from was the elevated bedroom. Thus the first sign that Daia was home was when the upper door swooshed open, admitting the middle of a catchy salarian slam-opera tune.

"...seva ni rasol ava-ra, telasir tela-ma-koh... Ana?" Daia smiled down from the entryway as the door sealed behind her. "Hi love. How'd the cliffs go, with Taleeze?"

A motion from the kitchen caught her eye, and she descended to the landing, peering around the matching stairway leading back up to the bedroom to get a proper view of that area of the main floor.

"Oh... hello." Her surprised expression lasted only a moment, before being replaced by a pleasant smile. Discovering a drell in the kitchen wasn't a regular occurrence - the last time had been almost twenty years ago, but that had been Elara's idea of a birthday present, so it was unlikely to be a repeat - but Ana was clearly unperturbed, and the stranger seemed to have paused in the midst of retrieving refreshments, which taken together suggested 'guest' rather than 'intruder'. She wondered how Ana and he had met - Health Directorate? A recent contact seemed more likely, Envirometrics had a hand in several models of humidity regulator.

"I didn't realise you had company, love - sorry to interrupt," she said, the last directed at Cerastes, as she descended the last flight of stairs. Her dress, though tight, would have covered her rather modestly from neck to knee, and down one arm to the wrist, had the solid fabric not faded to gauzy mesh in undulating ripples along its length, which seemed always on the verge - though never over it, thanks to some ingenious design - of revealing a little too much. With a quick flash of a smile at the drell she deposited a slim case on a side table and detoured to bend over to Ana, murmuring a private greeting and kissing the side of her helmet while her hand brushed against her fingers, then she straightened and turned back to their guest.

"A pleasure to meet you," she said, offering her hand - middle and spirit-fingers held together, a familiar grip to a drell - as she neared. "Daia T'Nara. Welcome - belated welcome, I suppose, since Ana would've already."

"That...sounds very fulfilling, Cerastes. Very fulfilling." Ana's tone was the epitome of unconvinced as she idly sifted through the holodiscs. "Have you tried doing both at the same time, because I feel that might have some pretty funny results for the non-you parties, like the ones who would theoretically be watching your exciting life via camera drone--"

Daia's voice echoed on the stairs, and Cerastes had the once-in-a-blue-moon treat of getting to see Ana'Therion snap from "cynical bitch" to "lovestruck puppy" in less than a half-second.

"Oh, I missed you," she murmured, squeezing the asari tightly when Daia leaned in for a kiss. "The Cliffs were fine, Taleeze sends her regards, the usual. Still, you're here..." Her arms were still around Daia's waist, head resting partly on a hip, as her bondmate carefully tried to shake hands with Cerastes.

"Sorry, manners. Cerastes, as you probably guessed, this is Daia T'Nara, love of my life and chief executive officer. Daia, this is my new friend Cerastes - he's an information broker."

She waved a holodisc idly - if the fresh RFID label was any indicator, it was Polynomial.

"He wanted to do stuff, and I didn't know when you were getting home. And there aren't really many activities you can do with a blind, crippled quarian, so...yeah." A shrug. "We're labeling my holodisc collection, in case I ever want to...uh..."

There was definitely a sour note in her voice. Not as much of one as if she'd had to give the 'this is not what it loosk like' speech, of course.

"...listen to them, I guess," Ana finished lamely. "I didn't really have any better ideas."

"Yes, yes, you made your point - I do go out on occasion, there's a... woman* I get on with rather well that I -"

Hssssk. The front door slid open, and in stepped a bombshell of an asari.

Unfortunately for Cerastes, said asari's arrival brought with it one of the more awkward moments of his existence. The drell stood lamely in the kitchen for a moment, looking off to the side as the two women greeted each other. This must have been Ana's wife. What was he supposed to say to her? "Hi, I'm a single man who's been hanging around your wife alone, PS I got her drunk a couple weeks ago"? He'd done absolutely nothing wrong during the span of that time, of course (well, aside from a little light flirting), but he still felt... odd, like he didn't belong all of a sudden.

The cavity-inducing display of affection occurring across the room from him didn't help much.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Daia," said the broker as he accepted Daia's hand and shook it thrice, firmly. "Cerastes S.; the pleasure is all mine." He released her hand, the canister of water still clutched in his palm. "We've made a fair amount of progress with her holodisks; I'm to understand that Ana had quite an outing earlier, so it's good to be doing something less strenuous for her."

what was he even saying that sounded so awful, he didn't need to explain himself

Cerastes forced a smile that failed to meet his eyes. He felt like an idiot, and it was an unwelcome, unfamiliar sensation to him.

"Good afternoon, Cerastes," Daia replied, smiling. "Of Cerberus? Not of Cerberus," she corrected herself, chuckling, "- that news forum." He seemed uncomfortable. Normally when Daia saw that smile it was accompanied by 'I've, uh, never been to see an escort/joygirl/consort/hooker/one a' your sort before - not applicable in this case (and it seemed unlikely an information broker from Omega could be perturbed simply by being in the presence of a choose-appropriate-title), but whatever the reason her professional instincts kicked in. There was nothing to be done about the dress, but her body language and manner were perfectly casual, schooled by centuries of practice to put someone uncertain of their place in a situation - for whatever reason - at their ease.

"Powering through the discs," Daia agreed with him, glancing across the tagged and untagged media. She seated herself on the back of the couch and swung her legs over to slide down beside Ana, leaving the spot where it seemed Cerastes had been sitting vacant for him. She leaned into Ana's side, but without any implicit challenge in her gaze to their companion, merely polite attention. "Any of mine turn up? They got a bit mixed up when we moved over from old Varda - you'll probably have spotted the difference, Ana's tastes tend more towards the critical-acclaim end of the scale; if anything's turned up that could be honestly be called 'goofy', that'd be mine."

"There were a few," Ana replied, "but we set them aside for you. I didn't want to put RFID tape on your stuff, being as you can actually see the disc cover and it'd probably look kind of tacky."

It had been hard not to notice Cerastes' awkwardness around...well, she assumed the opposite sex, but in his (questionable) defense it could just be everyone. Fortunately, Daia had plenty of experience in maneuvering around people and getting them to relax a bit, so if it was possible to get Cerastes to chill out, she could do it.

"So how was your, uh, appointment?" she asked. "You were out all of last night and most of today, so I'm assuming 'extremely well'."

For once, both Ana and Daia were way off base: truth be told, Cerastes was socially awkward with everyone, not just women. It just so happened that on this occasion, he felt an undeserved sense of guilt as soon as Daia had walked in the door; he didn't have a justifiable reason for it, but the feeling remained all the same. He'd just have to try and shake it off over the course of the visit.

"I would have expected you to take the opportunity to claim that 'Sin' was a purchase of Daia's," said the drell. Once he'd taken a moment to gather his composure, he made his way over to the living room and sat stiffly in the spot that had been left for him. A hand pressed another cold canister of water into Ana's open palm.

He didn't have anything to say in answer to Daia's apparent 'appointment,' whatever that may have been, and as such, he remained where he was, gaze focused on a small knick on his wrist. When had he gotten that? More importantly, why had Daia reacted so calmly to a strange, scarred man appearing in her kitchen? At least his stealthsuit wasn't visible with his clothes covering it. Perhaps Ana's past life had been more underground than he'd given her credit for.

Daia chuckled at Cerastes' joke, then turned slightly so she could face Ana, while keeping their legs touching.

"All's well," she replied. "Sorry to be out so long at a stretch - with all the extra time going into practice sessions for the Cup performance, I'm kind of having to juggle regular clients around wherever I can. I took a little nap at the Oasis, but it was basically a triple shift, back to back. Next time someone asks what the high points of the business are, I'll have to think twice before I say 'good hours'," she giggled. "But not too long to go with these sorts of days - I don't know if Taleeze told you today, but the rehearsals are going really well. Not long until Cup day, and then I'll be home and around the office a lot more." She gave Ana's thigh a quick stroke, unobtrusively, by way of apology, then looked back at Cerastes.

"So are you on Illium for business?" she asked politely. "You're based on Omega, am I remembering right? I'm afraid I have to prioritise my forum-reading a bit - there's a lot going on there, and some of it's just out of my league - so if I'm asking you things you've already told everyone online publically, sorry." She smiled, then gave a little chuckle. "Although based on the information brokers I've known - while I hate to generalise unnecessarily - the job lends itself to the taciturn sort. I'd never have made it in the business if I'd tried," she added to Ana, in a stage-whisper.

"Nah, I like Sin," Ana'Therion confessed. "I mean, I'm not going to argue that it's good by any means, but that doesn't stop me from enjoying it. Guilty pleasures and all that."

She leaned her head on Daia's shoulder at the mention of 'guilty pleasures' - admittedly, there was nothing guilty about that, but any excuse to get in contact with her bondmate was a good excuse. The quarian was rarely more keenly aware of how much she depended on Daia than when they'd been separated for a day or so.

Still, dismayed though she may have been at their state of affairs, it was ridiculous to deny Daia her livelihood or her shot at being famous or whatever. "Taleeze didn't mention it, we mostly talked about each other - I mean, we didn't really know each other very well, so a lot of the conversation was a feeling-out process, getting to exchange details about who we are, what we do, where we've been...that kind of thing. But I'm not surprised; I already know you're a killer dancer, and if you're associating with her, she must be too. So I'm sure it'll go well and you'll both be famous system-wide before long."

Ana wished she could see the show when the Cup rolled around, but she was confident it'd be good regardless. Nothing but the best for the APU, after all.

"Omega is correct."

Cerastes stopped picking at the scab. If he kept prodding at it, the scale might grow back incorrectly, which meant he'd have to pick it off, which meant it'd have to regrow again, which was a huge pain in the ass. He was a rough spot in the otherwise-pristine penthouse; two impeccable women sat beside him, while he slouched over his knees, he with his marked-up hide and mind full of secrets.

"I don't tend to say very much on the extranet, so you haven't made a faux-pas there, but it isn't as though I'd expect you to be reading up on me regardless." The drell offered Daia another of his smiles. "You, however, I've heard much about, from both Ana and the media. Your business endeavors are going well, then, I take it?"

He knew exactly how well, down to the spare change, but hey, this was good practice for casual conversations.

"Ah," Daia nodded, a pleased note in her voice, when Ana elaborated on her outing with Taleeze. "Sounds like a fun afternoon. Did you take the Jag? I think we've got a convert to the ancient-wheeler-as-aircar club in her," she chuckled, before reflecting on their dancing.

"She's really good," she agreed. "Not just on stage - we've got Skylar helping with production, but Taleeze is into the music, the dance design, the effects tech... professionally speaking, quite aside from friendship, she's a real find for the club." She grinned at a thought. "And Skylar is quite taken with her, unless I miss my guess."

She turned her attention to Cerastes, nodding as he briefly answered her question.

"Business is good," she replied. "We're not quite at risk of becoming multi-billionaires yet, but all things considered, the company's in good shape. We've got some reliable contracts for our med-tech units, and the clean-tech business is surprisingly robust. There's not much government support for companies catering to the quarian population," she admitted, sounding none too pleased, "but for what it's worth, that means there's not much government interference either, and the big transstellars don't have much incentive to try to muscle in. In fact we're the only manufacturer to sell alpha-rated clean rooms direct to private individuals, everyone else who makes it on Illium deals in corporate contracts only... sorry, I'm turning into a sales brochure," she giggled.

"Yeah, she was dripping like a faulty coolant unit just thinking about the Jag, so I figured we'd take it out to the cliffs." Not that she blamed Taleeze. No, that was a fine, fine skycar. Mmm. "Got to drive it on the way back, too; I think I made her week."

It was the little things, as they said. As Ana leaned back and propped her legs on the ottoman, she smiled a little - exhausted though she was, it had been a fun day, and brightening up Taleeze's afternoon had been a worthwhile venture. Maybe she should start taking stimulants again. It might let her get out a little more often.

All of that was lost in the mention of Skylar, however.

"Uh, Skylar's going to be disappointed, then," Ana remarked. "Because, I mean, I don't know how much Taleeze told you about her life pre-war, but she's kind of in a relationship. Still searching for her girlfriend, and all, but apparently they were really close and that kinda thing is hard to shove your way into."

A pause.

"Right?"

Another pause, this time much more thoughtful and perhaps laden with personal experience.

"...Ancestors," muttered the quarian, and with that she resumed labeling discs.

"Skylar? Ah, your legal counsel." The irony of a person of said position for Envirometrics being romantically interested in a friend of the CEO was not lost on Cerastes. He avoided commenting on it, for now, but the drell had an amused spark in his eye for a few moments. "If Ms. Driana is searching for this long lost lover, I could be of assistance. Forward her my contact information; the number I sent you last week, Ms. Ana, will still be valid for a few days yet."

He wasn't about to do it for free, not after offering his services to Dr. Sornn, but it'd likely please the two women if he at least helped their friend in some way. The fact that his sole interaction with Taleeze had been a bit confusing to him leant him an extra sense of wariness in doing so, however. Hopefully, she wouldn't ask him to tango.

The conversation had steered in a similar discussion. Cerastes was doing his best to fake his way through discussions of friends and romance; he pulled it off fairly well thufar, but Daia likely saw through him. The thought elicited another deep sound from him, too low for the women to hear. He rubbed at his ribbing habitually.

"Do you see many drell on Illium?"

Probably not. Definitely not.

"No," Ana said dryly.

Cerastes stared flatly at Ana'therion. Since he knew she couldn't see it, he reached over behind Daia - careful not to brush his arm against her in the process - and flicked at the quarian's helmet.

"Thank you, Ana. That was very enlightening."

"Freh'ya, yeah," Daia nodded soberly. "Skylar knows - I don't know if she and Taleeze have talked about it yet, but she got picked up in the group when Eafina was giving Tal the tour of Apricity. We talked about seeing if the Sisterhood could turn up any leads." She frowned, and shifted in her seat. "Which so far hasn't gotten anything but a few dead ends." She shot a wry grin at Cerastes. "You don't need to worry about professional competition from our little guild, at least. Escorts hear a lot, but targeting information is another thing entirely."

Her grin turned to a warm smile at the drell's offer of help.

"That's very kind of you, thank you," she beamed. "I'll let Taleeze know. And yes, that's the Skylar - legal hawk and burlesque bombshell." She chuckled. "She's a freelancer technically, but she handled a lot of the change-of-ownership proceedings, and getting the company sorted out afterwards - and naturally she's still our go-to for anything we can't handle in house." She wondered briefly if Cerastes knew of her from conversation with Ana, or whether his information-gathering extended so far as to be acquainted with the employees and associates of a business simply because he was a friend of its operations administrator. Well-honed professional instincts were hard to let slip - Daia herself was aware she tended to mentally 'size up' most people she met in terms of sexual preferences and possibilities, although in social situations she kept it well hidden to avoid awkwardness.

"With all the rehearsals going," she resumed, turning back to Ana, "they haven't had much opportunity to get to know one another in any case yet. I'm sure Taleeze wouldn't compromise her relationship with Freh'ya, but in her case that doesn't rule out casual attachments at the same time. Whether that's what she and Skylar will arrive at, how it'll pan out when she finds Freh'ya and brings her home..."

She gave a little shrug, then sat back, letting the conversation move on. She couldn't suppress a grin at Ana and Cerastes' prodding of one another - although the helmet-tweak may have been pushing it. Still, she knew - admittedly from a less verbal form of 'sparring' - that Ana enjoyed a certain level of pushing, if only to have a good excuse to assert herself in reply.