[Omega] The Worst Weekend Ever. EVER.

"Genetic? So you know something about her dad, huh? That'd explain the fire. She's not quite so... Malicious? Most of the time."

There was a bit of silence from the speaker after that, followed by a kind-of answer to the drell's question.

"I'm the guy who'll have to repair that room if you keep breaking stuff. After they set you on fire, that is. Hey, looking for a laugh? Imagine Kirok trying to fix something."

"I never met him," answered Cerastes. He was relieved to finally have some civil company. "However, I have done my research."

Had he ever. The drell ruminated on his findings for a moment before hopping up on the support beam at the foot of the bed. He was just about to bash in the lens of the camera he'd found when Jil spoke again.

Sigh.

"The quarian, then, I presume." No amusement whatsoever. Apparently, he did not want to picture Kirok doing anything at all. Defeated, Cerastes gingerly stepped down and sat by the remains of the cot. "You know, Mr. Jil'Korah vas... Dasegar - maybe Jil will have to do, if you'll forgive the informality - I am not a man who partakes often in alcohol, but this evening has led me to believe there may be something to all the drunks you see on Omega these days."

"Hah. See, that sounds like a joke to me, but you don't think it'd be funny to see Kirok scratching his crest and staring at a pipe, wondering which end goes where? Man, I don't get drell. And yeah, Jil's fine, it's a lot easier on the tongue and you got the pronunciation right. Kirok still hasn't, keeps calling me "Jill". Fucker."

There was another brief silence on the other end of the line, though the speaker stayed active so obviously there was some sound somewhere, even if beyond the usual range of hearing.

"So you've done your research about a small group of totally legitimate salvage and recovery operators. That's an oddly specific area of interest."

Jil was unfortunately stuck with a drell who had little to no sense of humor. Cerastes leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling as the quarian went on (and on).

"Legitimate salvage operations is a unique way to put it," he rasped. "Almost adorable. The focus of my efforts, however, does not surround the crew of this ship; I merely noticed that many of you have connections that could be useful in completing my task for Ms. Vedral."

A glance towards the camera.

"You could let me out, you know. I will drop the pipe."

There was a crackling laugh through the speaker.

"Sure, I could let you out, if I wanted to get set on fire as well. No thanks. What I might do, though, is put in a good word, so long as you don't try to break anything else. I've got enough work to do around here as it is. As for your task... If Shirin sets you on fire, it presumably doesn't get finished, unless that task is 'burn to death slowly'. What's your endgame, here?"

"I have already ceased dismantling the furniture." Cerastes rolled his shoulders against the wall, enjoying the cool touch of metal against his scales. "Ms. Vedral and I had a disagreement regarding the handling of evidence. I suspect this is why she wishes to set me on fire, which, you are correct, would result in the task remaining unfinished. It would be a very stupid move."

A flick of his wrist brought his omnitool to life. Dutifully, the drell began to rummage through the contents of his screens once more.

"My 'endgame' is merely to be paid. Ms. Vedral owes me twenty-thousand credits for the delivery of Ms. Suri'Neyvi's location."

More silence, longer this time, though once again the speaker remained active.

"So she owes you money, and has you in a room waiting to be immolated. You might want to think about forgiving that debt. In the meantime, I should get back to work - nice talking to you, snowdrell."

With that, the lights flickered again and the speaker shut off. Very likely the quarian could still hear anything the drell had to say, but he apparently wouldn't be replying.

The silence was comforting.

Less comforting to the quarian watching Cerastes was, if Jil was still paying attention, the sudden blackout of the camera moments after the conversation ended. Down in the makeshift-cell, Cerastes stepped down from the remains of the cot once more, looked satisfactorily up at the broken lens in the corner, and casually dusted himself off. Immediately afterwards, the drell shoved the cot to the other side of the room and set to work on his next project.

Whoever opened the door first was going to get quite a sight: the furniture in the room was taken apart, scraps of a t-shirt were scattered on the floor, and last but not least, the distinct absence of a prisoner.

----

Ten minutes later, Cerastes reappeared.

The drell dropped down from the ceiling wordlessly, careful to put his right foot down first upon his descent. He didn't need to announce his presence by toppling over in pain, after all.

A quick glance revealed everything he needed to know about his surroundings. He'd managed to find the right cabin, after all; he could tell by the paintings on the walls, the delicate sculptures that sat on display, and the... hookah stand that was missing a hookah? Odd. Now that he knew he hadn't unintentionally dropped into Kirok's room, Cerastes stormed noiselessly across the cabin and knocked on the bathroom door.

"For someone who keeps demanding opportunities to rest," came a weary answer from behind the door, "you don't take advantage of them very much, do you?"

How did...ah. Right. She had a comm in there. Jil'Korah had probably alerted her already.

"This had better be to say that you've finished analyzing whatever the data on Anbel was, because if you come in here without it, you're entering a world of pain."

There was a pause, for emphasis.

"A world of pain, Mr. Cerastes."

Shirin had proved once again that she was smarter than she looked (which was saying a lot, to Cerastes).

The broker leaned against the wall beside the bathroom door, patiently waiting for his company to emerge. Although the other drell had quite successfully ruined his fucking day, he was not about to burst in on her while she was in the nude.

"A word on good business practices, Ms. Vedral," he said in answer. He ran his hands over the beam he'd secured from the cot; it seemed prudent to keep a hold on it. "Kidnapping and threatening your information broker is a very bad way to start an arrangement."

"You're only getting threatened because you were about to burst into my bath," said Shirin, on the other side of the door. She lounged amidst the bubbles, her fourth glass of the armagnac in one hand and a Kassa Locust in the other, pointed towards the door (the gun, not the glass). "At least you knocked, I'll give you that much."

There was a pause while she sipped at the brandy. Holy hell this stuff was good. It had been obscenely expensive, but as far as comfort went, this one bottle had been totally worth the credits. Along with the warmth of the water, it had lulled her into a nice relaxing buzz, which having to shoot Cerastes would considerably harsh. Also she would lose whatever information he had.

"Anyway, what? Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

"Supposed to, yes." Cerastes pushed off the wall and strolled about the cabin, as was indicated by the sound of his voice becoming more distant to Shirin. "However, your krogan pet thought it would be prudent to lock me into a room all by my lonesome."

The sound of shelves opening and closing could be heard.

"My point is, I believe we should have a conversation on how exactly you're going to treat me from now on."

The pillow hit the floor unceremoniously. Cerastes smiled at the sight of what lay beneath it.

...Was he rummaging in her drawers?!

Okay, apparently Kirok was asleep again. Hopefully he would wake up soon, because considering the number of weapons Shirin kept in her cabin, if the other drell was allowed to look around much more she would be the instrument of her own destruction.

She sighed. Time to play nice. "Right. Sorry about Kirok. I specifically told him you'd be coming by tomorrow; he went and got you of his own volition. Apparently he doesn't trust you to behave in the twenty-four hours I gave you."

The implied question was, of course, how much truth existed in those allegations.

"Then you should keep him on a shorter leash."

The shotgun was surprisingly light in his hands. He marveled at how short the barrels had been cut; the gun was essentially a glorified pistol at this point, one that looked as though it would do some serious damage if used up close. Just what he needed in case the krogan decided to get violent.

"This is a very interesting modification you've made to the shotgun, Ms. Vedral." He opened a cabinet drawer, lifted the shirts inside. "Although I think your choice of hiding places needs to be amended. Are you just about done in there?"

Oh, the Pig Destroyer. Acquired while she was busy cleaning out all the genetic unfinished business. That had been an interesting day.

"If you brace as well as you punch, that thing'll knock your teeth out and send you sprawling on your ass," Shirin said, checking the heatsink on the Locust. "Anyway, no. Not even remotely. It's barely been thirty minutes, and if it seems longer that's only because it's been interrupted by every asshole on this ship. Except the asari, which bodes ominously."

Yeah, no. That wasn't going to work for him. Cerastes weighted his sense of propriety against the necessity of the situation; a brief glimpse of himself in the mirror was all he needed. After acquiring another pistol, he strode back to the bathroom door and settled in beside the doorway.

"I don't have enough time to sit here while you stew in your tub," he rasped. "I'm also not stupid enough to believe you're in there unarmed. I'd rather this conversation be face-to-face, but given the circumstances, I believe we're going to have to improvise."

He wondered how long it would be before the rest of the crew burst in and beat him senseless.

"From now on, you're treating me like any other drell. If you send your men after me again," clearly, there was a lack of trust in this relationship, "I will leak information on you and the location of this ship bit by bit until they are called off. If you try to betray me, I will sell everything I have on Ms. Suri'Neyvi to the first bidder I find, and you will be robbed of your vengeance." He paused, listened for the sound of any approaching footsteps. "Lastly, you're going to order your crew mates to not torture me and set me on fire the instant they step into this room. If you do this, we will have a pleasant exchange bereft of further violence until this assignment is completed, and I will wipe all of the remaining information on you and your ship as soon as we are done. Are these terms acceptable?"

He didn't give a shit if they weren't. Cerastes had had enough drama for one day.

There was a moment of silence, then: "Yeah, okay."

Another moment of silence.

"Wait, did...'set him on fire' was hyperbole. If I wanted you dead, I'd have shot you." A sigh. "Why is it so difficult to be facetious around anyone in this industry?"

Of course the second Shirin had reassured that the whole 'set on fire' thing was hyperbole was the moment Ali entered the room.

With a burning blow-torch.

"Boss you here... I just need a sec to reinforce the manifo..."

That's the second he saw the light scaled drell... "oh sorry I didn't know you were entertaining..." he took a step backwards. "I'll come back when you guys are done. Hey where's the boss?"

"That doesn't exclude torture."

Well, that was a relief. Cerastes had been set on fire before, and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

Now that the ground terms for their arrangement had been established, he allowed himself to relax ever-so-slightly. "I'm assuming I have only a few minutes before the rest of this circus gets in here, assuming Mr. Jil already alerted them of my absence." He cast an eye around her room. There was no sense heading back now; the crew would know he was gone, and he wasn't exactly relishing the thought of returning to his 'cell'. "Do you have any alcohol stowed away in the cabin? I could use a--"

The door to the cabin opened. Cerastes's fingers tightened instinctively on the guns, ready to defend himself when... wait. Did this idiot think he was over for pleasure?

The white drell feigned a smile in spite of the blowtorch. "No problem. She's in the tub, having a wash. Want me to pass anything on to her?"

"Nah... oh yeah, there's some guy who asked me some info on an information broker. I sent her the details in a message..."

He looked at the weapons around the cabin, then at the from the waist-up naked drell... "Damn... you guys are freaky, now be careful with that. Oh and do yourself a favor and stay away from the asari."