[Citadel, Shin Akiba] The Daily Special [OPEN!]

Hamilton wandered idly through the Shin Akiba corridors. There was no particular reason for his visit to the center of human commerce in Zakera Ward. He'd been making a brief stop-off at the vol-clan center to visit and old friend and found himself drawn to the sights, sounds and above all smells of the human neighborhood before he returned to the presidium. He walked for a bit, eyeing the storefronts and their wares. Electronics, amps, games, souvenirs, food. Anything a person could want. He frowned. These people should be buying things from me.

As he walked on his stomach began to groan. It was at this point that he realized just how long it had been since he'd actually eaten something substantial. He paused, wondering what had prompted the reaction. As the smell hit him he looked up to the sign on the store he was standing outside.

"Friendship by Food." Hamilton smiled to himself. The awkward name reminded him of the sort of things he used to see scrawled on the walls of Omega by aliens without a proper grasp of standard english. Hmm. Reminds me of the old place. And... He inhaled deeply, Doesn't smell too bad, either. Yeah, why not?

He stopped for a moment, pulling his curly black hair back into a short ponytail and straightening out his jacket before walking inside. He may, on occasion, be an absolutely ruthless businessman but his mother had raised him right and he felt he should look presentable before entering a restaurant. He immediately noticed what was practically a wall of people standing around eating. Is this place really that busy? No... He glanced around and stood on tiptoes several times to see around the mass of people. There's what? One chair for every five people? That's not efficient. Or was it intentional? Whatever. He managed to squeeze through the throng of people and reach the counter.

He glanced up at the Turian walking back and forth behind the counter, loudly ordering the various waiters and attendants around. Looks like he might have to wait awhile for a menu.

At being handed a menu, Leeta responded with a grateful nod, since the asari waitress couldn't make note of the awkward smile she wore behind her mask. She held the tablet between both hands, looking over the menu with a hidden, sweeping glance. They had an assortment of nutripaste, which she considered more than generous compared to many restaurants she had dropped in on in the past. The lack of seating posed a moment of awkwardness, though. She preferred a comfortable position in the corner so that she might observe others, but it seemed most of the seats were taken.

To avoid speaking up, Leeta stared down at the menu a few moments longer than necessary, practicing her words over and over again in her head, just as she always had before speaking to aliens. Finally, she took a breath and lowered the menu, looking ahead for someone who would take her order. She moved through the groups of patrons with ease, clearly experienced when it came to being discreet in a crowd of others, even if it was just a restaurant. "The eria'tet based nutripaste please. Thank you." She spoke in a quiet and unassuming tone as she addressed waitress who had handed her the menu in the first place.

Nick's eyes lit up with amusement

"An american quarian, huh? Well, when I found myself having asari neighbors in my neck of the woods, I thought I'd never get quite as surprised."

She paused to sip a bit of the thessian mix. Like the asari who made it, the drink was fruity, ethereal, and oh so blue. After aking a moment to savor the pleasing sensations, she returned her attention to Vik.

"See, I live around and make my living as a smalltime ship captain in the Mediterranean sea. During the war, a lot of people scattered through it and the smaller, nearby seas, looking for places to hide. Along with moving people around, I would try to smuggle supplies to wherever people needed them. Nowadays though, a lot of my business comes from the asari colonists trying to make a home for themselves in the area. Its caused me to get a bit more curious about nonhumans."

Nick flashed the flirty smile again.

"So what does a space cowboy like yourself do to make a living in Washington DC? Trying to start up the UNAS again, and become the first quarian president?."

She waggled her eyebrows, clearly not serious, but curious all the same.
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Helena's melancholy burned away at that announcement, her eyes lighting up as she grinned at her friend.

"Congratulations Sarah! How are you going to go about it though? Are you going to adopt, or is one going to get a donor so you can bear it? Both are fine, but keep in mind, one option will drive one of you partially nuts."

Muck's tone turned nostalgic as she remembered the travails of her pregnancy.

TipToe's menu was taken away by the asari waitress who ducked into the back momentarily, only to return with the nutripaste and a price. Hamilton was given a menu and an appetizer- A gourmet roll (For the low, low price of 5 credits!). And a woman walked past him from the entrance, making her way to the back, already loudly asking questions to her workers, her voice echoing to the front. Sarah wiped her hands clean on a cloth, then raked them through her blonde hair, giving it a messy appearance. "We've used a donor- And I'm well aware of the nightmares that are on the way, but I've faced worse, right?" Her voice had a monumental sense of worry to it. "..Right? I mean, I'm having the kid, I think I can handle this." Her hands shook slightly as she placed them down on the table- As a joke, of course.

The Turian left towards the back, only to be replaced by a human with cropped afro. The human took a deep breath. First day on the job- Don't mess this up. He'd run to the back- Returning with another tube of paste. "Hey there, want to try this? It's a desert, and I'm sure it'll go down well with your current order." He slid it forward- "Only a nominal fee added onto your current bill."

A smuggler, huh? Well former smuggler. That was interesting, and impressive considering she managed to do that during a galaxy wide genocide... most of which had been squarely focused on this tiny little blueball the citadel was currently hovering over. And he liked her nickname she gave his species, Space Cowboy, it sounded so much more respctable than the usual nicknames.

Vik laughed a bit at the suggestiong of being quarian president.

"I highly doubt I'd be able to stomach sitting in a giant office barking orders." he said. "I can't even imagine myself in one of those fancy suits the diplomats wear. Plus I'd get eaten alive in the polls, my politics don't really match up all that well with what's expected."

Vik decided to be a little more serious.

"Truth is, I'm kinda stuck here. I used to be a captain myself, but I was only promoted for, uh, the fact I was next in line." Vik stopped himself there before continuing, no sense in making this a sob story. "And there's only so much you can do when you're stuck in charge of a ship on the Migrant Fleet. So when the apocalypse was avoided I resigned my comission, let my first officer take command and stayed here, helping the rebuilding process and trying to get my own ship. Easier said than done."

Vik hadn't really ordered yet, so he asked for his own dextro-based drink. Nothing much, or alcholic, just something with some fruit in it. When it arrived he took a sip through his induction port and continued.

"I have been trying to aquaint myself with your own history while I was here though." Vik told her. "I'll admit you're a fascinating species, with some pretty weird quirks. Then again, who am I to talk? I'm the guy who lives inside a suit and has 'chicken legs' as I understand."

And still recovering from his post-traumatic stress brought on by his enormous self-pityinh guilt, but she didn't need to know that. Put on a brave face and don't let them see the cracks. Easier to do when you had a helmet.

"But hey if my weirdness gets me noticed, by people who look like you no less, well who am I to complain?" he asked rhetorically, trying his best to sound confident.

Lear had ordered himself a drink before the strangely dressed woman arrive (Seriously, why would someone wear something like that? Doesn't even seem functional). Now though, he was stuck where he was standing by Vik because he was unable to bypass the crowd, and now felt like the awkward... what was it the humans called it? Third wheel?

And then Vik had said "chicken legs",causing Lear choked on his drink.

Chicken legs? That's what the humans think we have? Chicken legs?!

Lear no longer wanted to eat his nutripaste...

Vik had almost forgotten about Lear in the whole thing, he was after all his friend and he shouldn't leave him out of things. Maybe he just liked the fact a girl, however strangely dressed and however removed from his own species, was actually talking to him.

"How rude of me, this is Lear." he said, introducing Nick to his former crewmate. "We served on the same ship. Apparently we both decided to show up at the same restaurant. Don't worry you didn't interrupt anything."

Lear looked at Vik as if he were insane, and then turned to the human. He stood there and stared for several seconds before he awkwardly stuck out his hand, remembering that humans had some strange fascination with shaking each others hand.

"Chicken legs... I mean Lear! Lear'Kaus vas Citadel"

It was painfully obvious that Lear was not educated in human culture (and from what he knew of it, he really didn't want to either), and was now holding out his left hand to the woman.

Hamilton looked behind him, dinner roll partially shoved into his mouth. A flash of platinum blonde hair and the noise of loud questions moving through the crowd had drawn his attention. As he watched the woman head to the back it was all he could do not to have a flashback. The authority, the way the worker's and cook's eyes instantly flew to her as she went by, her gait. Oh look, the owner. Or at the very least the person who's in charge. Reminds me of myself. he thought, remembering back to when he'd run a small restaurant fairly similar to this. He glanced around for a moment and frowned, returning his attention to the roll. I was nowhere near this successful though. Humanity's Finest, his restaurant, had been struggling for months in the Tayseri ward before it was, almost mercifully, crushed into nothingness by the falling wreckage of Sovereign.

As his eyes flicked over the menu he continued to think to himself. Maybe I should strike up a conversation with her. It'd be kind of nice to talk shop after...good lord, has it really already been half a decade? Meh, probably shouldn't do that while it's this busy. I know I hate it when customers start to chat while I'm in the middle of something impor-Holy shit cornbread!They have cornbread!

A few minutes later Hamilton was making his way from the counter, his mind solely fixed on the plate in front of him. He'd ordered several slices of the bread, along with Tupari in a bottle and some kind of meat dish in sauce that he'd chosen mostly on a whim because its description sounded appealing. Now, with its smell wafting up toward him, he knew he'd made the right choice. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as he maneuvered through the crowd. It was this brief indulgence that led him into trouble. Man this smells-*OOPH* He smacked heavily into something, knocking it over. As he frantically shifted his weight to avoid either falling over himself or sending his plate flying off ahead of him he looked down and promptly felt his blood run cold.

Ta-! No...Not her. Sprawled on the floor below him was a Quarian woman, some of the sauce from his plate splattered on her robes and visor. Different robes, skinnier, and... He found himself hesitating to reach down and help her up. After a brief, awkward moment of staring at each other she stood up on her own. Shorter. Much shorter than Talsa. I guess that explains how I missed her. She's like a foot below my sightline.

"Um, sorry... about that. Sorry." Hamilton felt rooted to the spot, unsure whether to try and clean her up or try to keep moving before she could respond angrily. Mental note: Avoid Quarian women like the plague from now on. They're bringing you nothing but problems. he thought before the Quarian spoke.

Helena raised an eyebrow, surprised at Sarah's declaration that she would be the one to carry the baby to term.

"Really? Forgive me for saying so, but I would have thought that, out of the pair of you, Chris would be the one to carry the baby. Don't your responsibilities as an Alliance officer kind of make things awkward? Not that I'm saying you shouldn't, don't get me wrong. I'm just surprised. Did you already find a donor, or are you still figuring that part out?"

----------------------------------------------------

"Oh, so you used to captain your own ship? I've always been curious about one day trying to move up space, but I like the sea too much. Big as the ocean is, I'd never have to worry about there being too much of it"

Nick made a understated waving motion that was somehow meant to imply the great vastness of the universe. When Vik reffered to himself to being wierd, she only smirked.

"Well, that's pretty much why I dress like this. People never forget the hot chick in the pirate gear. That, and I think make a very dashing figure."

Nick struck a pose to illustrate the point, and thus, when Lear was finally in her sphere of awareness, she was looking and acting silly. She blinked, before raising her hand in greeting, stretching to meet his grip with one of her own.

"Hi! Nice to meet you."

She glanced at Lear and Vik for a moment, before waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"So, how long have you guys been seeing each other?"

She tried to say this with the straightest face possible, but the tiny smirk hinted that she was just messing with the pair of them

"The choice would have affected our lives regardless of who decided to carry the baby to term. I may be in the Alliance- But she's also trying to start her own business-" She gestured at the busy lunch-hour crowd- "-and do her own thing. We can work this out- I know it make it awkward for me, but it'd make it awkward for her as well and..." She rubbed her forehead, pausing for a moment to think. "Chris wanted to. There's issues that prevented it. We already chose a donor- And that went down earlier this month." The woman pressed her hand against her mouth, looking to Muck with watchful eyes.


So busy! The bartender set the ordered drinks refills down, wiping the counter down with a shammy before being ordered off to replace a tray of food.

Helena nodded with understanding, glancing at Sarah's abdomen, and the as of yet hidden life gestating within.

"I see. Anyone I'd know?"

She asked, always the nosy reporter.

Vik laughed a bit at Nick's suggestionm but not for exactly the same reason.

"Not nearly long enough, he hasn't even bought me dinner yet." he grinned. "Seriously though, even if I did swing that way, I'm a total virgin. As for how long we have known each other not very. I was kinda AWOL from the fleet for a good long while. Long story. Lear was probably one of the few friends I still had back in the Flotilla when I returned."

He hope dhe wasn't putting Lear on the spot too much. He'd always been a little awkward. But he was a good crewmate and a good friend.

"As for captaining a spaceship it's not all that different from a regular boat I imagine. It's just, things become more three dimensional up there." Vik continued to explain. "The best analogy I can come up with is that of a submarine, but with a lot less rssistance of movement. No water to get in the way. I miss it, no better feeling than having your own ship. Times like this, grounded, using a rental shuttle to get from place to place, I miss the Truth."

Talking about his old roundabout again. He didn't think he was attached to the old girl that much. Over a year later and he still missed the rusty old hunk of junk. He supposed he couldn't have given her a better send off, a grand old blaze of glory. What better way for a broken down tub to end its life.

Leeta was already making use of her emergency induction port when the apprehensive human replaced the twitchy turian. She tilted her head in surprise as he took the initiative to approach her. She wasn't used to this level of service, but she silently admitted to herself that she could get used to it. "How kind," she began, her smile evident by her tone. "I will give it a try. Is--" she stopped herself, chuckling. She had nearly asked him how the dessert nutripaste tasted. Of course he hadn't tried it. "What I mean to say is, does it get good reviews among your o--oOOAH!"

Something crushed against the quarian's shoulder, knocking her clear off her feet. Her hand clenched around the tube of nutripaste, sending it spurting out of the tube as she flailed to catch herself on the floor. A string of half-audible swears left her lips as she rolled into a seated position, planting her feet on the ground. She glared up at the cause of her fall. She pushed herself to her feet with some effort, grumbling all the while. "Clumsy bosh'tet," she declared indignantly once she was standing again, drawing herself up to her full but not particularly tall height. "Why not watch where you are going!" Her question sounded more like an accusation than anything else.

She'd try to think of a joke- "Admiral Chang. No, it was just a donor in the database. Had a -very- awkward conversation on the phone with him. Name is Andy Morgan, he lives in Shanghai and lived in Zakera last year. Smart, no health issues mental or physical." She shrugged. "So.. hopefully everything is going to work out. My baby's going to be crazy." She sighs, burying her face in her hands. "And it's gonna get it from me."

As TipToe rises to her feet, a dark-haired woman offered her a wet towel (whilst frantically looking her over) "Crap, are you okay? I- Do you need me to call a doctor?" The woman fidgeted, trying to give a once over of the alien. "Are you okay?" She'd look over the bumper, then again to the bumpee.

Hamilton flinched at the Quarian's question. She'd said it quite a bit louder than was probably necessary and he noticed that several other patrons were staring at them. It must have looked rather comical to them. Hamilton, a strikingly tall and thin human being chewed out by brightly dressed Quarian who looked to be more than a foot and a half shorter. "I um, sorry. ...sorry" He awkwardly tried to push past her but to no avail. The crowd had closed back in around them the moment she stood back up and there was no way he'd be able to get away, short of charging straight through her.

"I just closed my eyes for a second and I guess I didn't see you because you're, um... he trailed off. Hamilton got flustered easily, especially around women and, just recently, even more especially around Quarian women. But even he knew that pointing out her diminutive stature wouldn't end well. ...I didn't see you there. he finished, lamely.

He glanced down at her. Let me find something you can use to clean up. And ah..." he noticed the tube of nutripaste that she was still gripping tightly in annoyance. She'd crushed it during her fall and the pale green gel had covered most of her hand and arm. "And I'll replace your food! I mean, it's the least I can do." he added frantically, eager to get back in her good graces. Or at the very least have her stop shouting at him. A towel was thrust in front of him and he jumped slightly, still twitchy after the accident. He turned and saw a rather pretty raven haired woman holding it towards the Quarian. Oh miss you are an angel! he thought. She glanced towards briefly him and he silently thanked her as best he could, hoping the Quarian wouldn't pick up on the human body language. I could kiss her right now. Wait, wedding band on the finger. Bad idea. Not like I really meant it anyways.

He turned his attention back to the Quarian and smiled nervously "There we go, now let's see about me buying you something else to eat. Anything on the menu, it's the least I could do." Thank goodness this place isn't very expensive or she could probably clean me out.

As Hamilton bumbled over his words and very nearly brought up her height, Leeta bristled. She unconsciously squeezed the nearly empty tube of nutripaste before the faint sound of another dollop splatting on the floor caught her attention. She took a sharp breath, becoming acutely aware of the fact that quite a few other people were looking directly at them. She rolled her shoulders in obvious discomfort at the attention, hazarding a look down at her robes and suit. She cringed at the sight of herself, and mentally indulged in all manner of violent acts against the man in front of her.

"Yes, it really is the least you can do," she spat back as he offered to replace her food. This was what she got for going out for a meal. She squinted through the splotches of dripping sauce covering her visor when a damp towel came into her line of sight. She turned and nodded to the dark haired woman offering it. "Thank you," she murmured, placated for the moment. She plucked the towel out of the other woman's hand and slowly cleaned up the sauce Hamilton had dumped on her. "I am fine, if all it took to send me to the doctor was being run over, I would be in the hospital more often than I would like. I am sorry for the...mess." She looked down at the green splatters of nutripaste on the ground. Though she still spoke through clenched teeth, she seemed to be calming some. The towel did a good job of cleaning up the sauce of the meat dish, but Leeta's vision was still blurred by a few smears of grease. She sighed, giving her visor a hard scrub before tending to the mess on her arm as she muttered, "...I was having the eria'tet based nutripaste."

"Well... uhm... Maybe I've been waiting for you to buy me dinner!" Lear mentally cringed as he tried to think of something to retort with, but was far too nervous to think straight. If Lear had his way, he'd have been out of the restaurant after he'd gotten his nutripaste, but noooooooo, in walks Lear's friend (Probably his only friend at that) that he hadn't seen for over a year.

Ancestors, kill me now...

And then Vik had compared a ship to a submarine, which instantly grabbed Lear's attention. Lear had become fascinated with the vast world of technology over the past year, more so than before (being isolated for a year tends to do that to people).

"No. No!" Hamilton added quickly "You don't have anything to be sorry for, it was completely my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going, I walked right into you and I knocked you down. My fault, not hers." He said, turning to the woman who had handed her the towel. The Quarian's response had been tinged with more than a little venom and Hamilton was eager to do anything he could to placate her.

"Right, so let's go to the counter and get you a ah, eria'tet" He said, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation. He paused and turned back to the raven haired woman. He realized he wasn't even certain that she worked there. She might have just been some random customer that decided to help out. If that were the case it might be in poor taste to just walk off with the towel.

"Yes, I'm quite aware you're the one that bumped into her." She exhaled in irritation, pulling her hair back into a scrunchie. "T'll be sure you get the finest we have, ma'am. He offered to front the bill." She stepped back to the kitchen. A worker approached between the two, holding a mop and a holographic 'Wet Floor' sign that had nearly twenty languages on it. He pulled his visor on, activating a soul music mix- and mopping he went.