You Take It On Faith, You Take It To The Heart

In his paddock, Xuumo-kalashasi stared lazily at the projected display, watching information scroll past at a crawl. He wasn’t really reading it, not anymore. Instead he was pondering...pondering the unpleasant realization that, by elcor standards, he was quite possibly proving - and how should he put this? - less than adequate. He glanced over the first few lines of a new paragraph, truly more transfixed by the images alongside it, to be honest with himself. Was it merely the isolation, he wondered; the stress of this cramped, all too alien station? Or was he losing a sense of what it meant to be a true son of Dekuuna? He sighed, producing a low rumbling noise of discontent.

Alonso, having grown bored of the mathematics he was supposed to be studying - reintegration into formal education having proved less than thrilling these last few weeks - put down his stylus and wandered over, seeking distraction. Flighty of him. Xuumo considered making comment on this; the boy wouldn't get very far in life if his attention was so ill-focused. He needed to cultivate more of a sense of commitment.

Perhaps you should take heed of your own advice, then?

Alonso stopped and considered what he was seeing. He must have quickly taken the gist of the information on display - travel schedules, itineraries - as he frowned in puzzlement. "You’re not planning on having us go anywhere, right?” His face hardened. “I don’t want to leave while those kalkiks are still threatening my friends”.

Swearing in Lusian slang, now, was he? Picked it up from an asari rat, no doubt. Xuumo was suddenly glad Alonso wasn't a few years older than he was. Sun and earth, he could only imagine having two or more bipeds in Uncle Elcor's Daycare.

“Distant assurance: I understand, Alonso. I approve, in fact. Loyalty to those who have earned it is among the highest of virtues.

With certainty: no, we’ll not be going anywhere soon”.

Especially, he thought with some bitterness, if you aren’t going to reveal anything regarding Pietro's boltholes.

Loath as he was to increase speed and risk a stumble, and as much as it pained his elcor psychology, he had considered simply asking the boy outright for the information he wanted. Assuming Alonso had it, which he might not, though Xuumo-kalashasi was pretty sure he did. He cautiously judged that he could probably get away with applying a bit more pressure on Alonso if he chose. Leaving the Ducts had been less consistent in its oversight of late. While there was still a host of legal matters to attend to (this was still only a make-shift arrangement) the myriad issues plaguing the charity - not least of all their old friends the gangers – had apparently occupied most of Michelle Rondor’s time. She was distracted, and apparently considered Alonso one less thing to worry about, a problem largely solved. Perhaps he had charmed her successfully, thought he suspected it was circumstances beyond his control. Some things still worked in his favour.

The only problem was, he suspected that Alonso would smell his true intentions worryingly swiftly should be come on too strong in his interrogations. Losing the boy's trust at this juncture, while still under the watch of the social services (such as they were at present) would be disastrous. He wouldn't get a second chance, and if he pushed too hard... well, Alonso had survived on the streets for two years, he could slip back out again without worry. Losing him now, after all this... inconceivable. The boy was intelligent in his way, oh yes, wary in the manner of one trained well by a trusted parent, and who had endured a tough time in desperate poverty. Xuumo-kalashasi could see it in the child’s eyes sometimes, the wariness at this odd arrangement he'd agreed to, the questioning discomfort that still, from time to time, brought about a slight dissatisfaction in his elcor guardian's motives. That was why Xuumo had been making not-so subtle allusions to Pietro's professional legacy, aware that the boy knew some of what was implied in his loaded comments, and hoping it would be enough to keep him intrigued, keep him committed to their partnership as a favourable alternative to his duct gang and the life he’d been living. After all, the lure of a link to the past, to one’s heritage and birthright, was strong. Very strong. Xummo-kalashasi knew that better than most.

Truly, the loneliness grew harder to endure each day. (To his embarrassment, he had winded up surrounding his resting mattress with cheaply-brought "Cuddly Calyns", in order to sooth his subconscious with the shape and - near-enough - size of fellow elcor; oversized plush elcor, anyway. Alonso had judged it hilarious).

The degree to which a similar emotional need for companionship - having someone to care for him - affected Alonso, Xuumo didn’t know. He suspected he’d overstated his own case, emotionally, when first arranging to take the boy in – it was difficult to tell how much was too much with aliens. When you came across to others as emotionally monotonous, you had to play it up in order to tug on their own emotions successfully, but such could backfire on you easily. He may have gone too far. It was that same barrier to communication he had struggled to overcome with Rondor, though, that kept his feelings (or lack of feelings) for Alonso from becoming apparent, and for that he was thankful. Which wasn’t to say he didn’t like the boy, in a way. In truth, he had at times appreciated Alonso’s company. And appreciated the presence of Pietrio’s ghost at that, his old acquaintance brought back to him in the form of the son, with the same frustrating mannerisms and caustic humour. It was...interesting, certainly.

Recently, on that amusingly chaotic forum which he used to keep in touch with Michelle Rondor, a certain thread had made him think long and hard about what Alonso might represent. An interesting report on intentions to analyse and record for common knowledge the workings of the station had become, via vorcha impatience, a call for potentially moving the Citadel. He had been struck by an odd sense of poignancy at the vorcha urge to rush to results. Had he been feeling the encroaching shadow of age, himself? The bipeds, he thought darkly, are clinging to me in scent; my truth becomes masked in theirs.

He had hopes that his self-imposed exile might be facing its end before long; cautious hopes, of course. Around a week ago, Alonso had let slip an interesting snippet of information while nattering away at morn-feed. While defending his use of a particularly vulgar swear he'd picked up from his gang-mates, which Xuumo didn't want him using less he draw undue attention to the pair of them in public (as though a human child and an elcor wandering the wards together weren't memorable enough), he'd made offhand reference to his father's name for a private spacecraft. A vessel with the annoyingly droll moniker of “Shittiest Ship”. Xuumo had chewed his next few mouthfuls very carefully. "SS". He'd thought it was a standard registry, and thus useless to him, but now he wondered: were those instead the initials of the vessel he needed? He had been making surreptitious efforts to trace the ship ever since.

“What are you looking at, then?" Alonso was interested after all, then.

“With reverence: Something very valuable indeed".

Alonso came in closer and looked at it, peering round and over the elcor's pillar-like forelimb. He seemed embarrassed, probably (or so Xuumo judged) because the size difference made the boy feel infantile. Peeking up and over the adult.

“It’s a jug”. He sounded unimpressed.

“Artificial despair: What is the education of the youth in C-space coming to?”

“I’ve been on the streets for two years, okay?”

He drew out the last syllable of “okay”, in an almost petulant manner.

“Proudly: This, Alonso, is the Harsher Chastisement of Or-Gyclyn. It is over three thousand years old, and formed from the very deposits at which Malvuon, brother to Sereuun, was built".

“Is this something to do with your Massing stuff...?"

“Carefully monotone: Not of my faith, no. Of great significance to the elcor planet-wide. This artefact, Alonso, was once in the possession of the Just Ralmonisuuk, wife of the Wise Raxuu. At the Last of all Mergings, Or-Gyclyn, He who would Neither Lead nor Follow, attempted to disprove the power of the ka-cor* by polluting the pool of memory. With this... jug...the Just Ralmonisuuk raised water from the pool and demonstrated its continued flow, as the Wise Raxuu raised water beside her, revealing its continued reflective purity. The Harsher and The Tempered Chastisements of Or-Gyclyn, the dual expression of the incorruptibility of the true and measured ways, Alosno. This, one half of the whole. Lost from Dekuuna during the war. Lost with the rest of the Embalhoth Collection"

“Yeah, I’ve sort of heard of that. The Embalhoth”.

Yes.

Xuumo made no outward movement, his breathing controlled. He allowed the silence to stretch on, hoping to calculate carefully just how long he should leave it. Not long enough to be awkward, no, but enough to leave it... pregnant. As he did, he trusted that his scent would play its role in subtly encouraging he boy to elaborate. Alonso had been trained in some basic elcor scent recognition (those pheromones a human could distinguish, at least) and could pick up basic emotional cues. It was Xuumo’s hope that the boy would, perhaps on a subconscious level, register Xuumo’s expectant anticipation without fully comprehending that he was being led...

To his annoyance, Alonso was fidgeting, seemingly engrossed in his left hand, a frown on his young face. Perhaps he had gotten a sense of something, but didn't know what.

Xuumo resisted the urge to growl. How ironic, that a human should be holding an elcor up. No matter. He could think of a way to build on this conversation. He would have what he wanted. And I will stand among and of you again, Dekuuna, should it take another two years...


((* Herding instinct, the primal desire to huddle and move inwards when young, which feeds into elcor family structure and reverence for memory both, the collection of records and the establishment of communal precedent)).

"Christ, this is a day to forget", the taciturn man known as Julian Snow muttered as he ran across the rooftops of Lower Tayseri, still wearing his red hoody, black utility pants, work shirt and boots. Normally he'd change but with the shit that happened, he just needed to unwind and forget all of the shit binding him to the Citadel. Manuevering and vaulting past the vents, pipes and gaps with ease, he started to calm down, the exercise taking his mind off what was going on at Leaving the Ducts. Leaping the gap to the next row of buildings, Snow saw the bazaar in full swing, with the usual assortment of duct rat lookouts, vendors, and the low and high class denziens bargain hunting. Slowing down, the young man reached a perch to sit down and observe, inwardly making a note to bring Laykalar down here sometime, the hanar would find the scene rather intriguing from a social perspective. Snow still found it astonishing that Laykalar volunteered for a gig like LTD, "guess it's just part of his research", musing as the lanky charity worker observed the bazaar, slowly relaxing....

It had been a week since the first real breakthrough with Alonso, and Xuumo-kalashasi smelt the subtle but pleasing scent of victory. Only a whiff of it, true, and not enough to justify excessive hope, but it was a foundation that had been carefully laid over many weeks and had now proven sturdy enough to build on. The true work would soon begin. The open plains of Dekuuna and the regard of the matriarchs and patriarchs of the greater herds would be his once more; the Harsher Chastisement of Or-Gyclyn might yet be found. Restored to its rightful place in the open reach of truest civilization. As he would be, alongside it.

A few evenings prior, Alonso had been complaining about his separation from that rabble of a gang he'd been sheltered with, and Xuumo had provided what sympathy he could, while trying to impress upon the child the importance of stoicism. During their discussion, Alonso had mentioned a trip with his father that, combined with the probable lead of the ship name, had allowed Xuumo to pinpoint a specific cluster. In other words, he now had a true lead; he could place Pietro and his band at a certain place around a certain time, and the clues were starting to mount. It irked, that he should be reduced to pitiably celebrating mere leads, but then the strength of the elcor was, and always would be, their patience. A turian or a human would have alienated the boy by now with aggressive, desperate questioning. A salarian, he thought darkly, would have explained the entire affair in about five minutes, no doubt using extensive diagrams as visual aids to its loquacious jabbering. Alonso would have been back in the ducts before nightfall.

Not that Xuumo-kalashasi was particularly pleased with his own behaviour of late. In his glee at the revelation, he'd shown a lack of restraint that worried him, even posting on that damnable forum while enjoying a celebratory drink. Drawing attention to himself. That urge to commune, it would be his undoing if he wasn't careful. That, and the influence of these fast-paced aliens...

Today, he got to enjoy the whole menagerie, as he was once again out on the bazaar, navigating the too-close stalls and nearly stepping over volus. Annoying creatures, too low for him to notice when they trundled past. Alonso wasn't with him at the moment; he was attending school, one of the local underfunded institutions that the social services - such as they were two years after the galaxy's most horrific conflict - had insisted he attend. That gave the elcor time to think. Irony of ironies - though not unexpected when he considered it - he was torn between relief at having the boy gone and surges of loneliness. Alonso was a quick study, and quite smart for a human; again, not unlike his father. And Xuumo had to admit, his people's traditions of memory and lineage were wise; Alonso represented a very real possibility for a legacy. Certainly it was better than relying on dolls, a state he'd been reduced to over the last month. He could see, out of the corner of his eye, the stall that sold the trademarked "Cuddly Calyn", which some fool had launched with the blessings of the Dekuunan embassy, to celebrate the ever-stronger human-elcor relationship. A public relations boost for the Courts, as human children cuddled up with the face of elcor friendship. Aren't we one big happy herd? he thought bitterly, though not without a slight tinge of humour. Not that these aliens he surrounded himself with could sense it, of course.

He stopped moving. Speaking of aliens... the sense of a familiar presence was upon him, though which of his senses had alerted him he couldn't say. He turned to see a familiar (and most unwelcome) bipedal figure striding towards him. Nightforce, he cursed quietly (then bowed his head in silent apology to his old mother, blessed be her frame). Just when he thought he had safely moved to the Friendly Neighbourhood Elcor category, and could focus on the big picture rather than pleasing the bipeds. Not such a big happy herd after all...

Perhaps you should get yourself a Cuddly Calyn, Mr. Snow. Very well; time for him to once again present the "Zen Xuumo". He took a deep breath, snorted once, then lumbered round to face the squinty-eyed human.

"With careful lack of inflection: Good day, Mr. Snow".

Dropping down to street level, Snow began to walk amongst the bustling shoppers of the bazaar, this time he wasn't on business. The day had sapped out the usual defiance in his step, but his eyes remained the same, dark grey and dead looking. The latter kept the buskers and vendors at a distance, allowing Snow to make his way to the bazaar center when he heard an Elcor calling to him. Turning, Snow saw the same lumbering individual who roped Miss Rondor and himself into finding a lone human kid, Xuumo, "this day just won't stop", thinking as he nodded coldly to Xuumo.

"Surprised to see you here, and I was so set on paying you and Alonso a visit. Glad you're saving me the trouble Xuumo," Snow replying with a trace of formal courtesy. Truth be told, with everything that was going on, he just plain forgot about Alonso and Xuumo, but some due diligence never hurt, check on on the Elcor and his duct rat, make sure the requirements are met. "No time like the present", thinking as the charity worker gazed up at the lumbering tank on legs. "Why don't we head for the square Xuumo, it's slightly more spacious and we can talk about Alonso's acclimation there, maybe even arrange a visit to your apartment for Miss Rondor? It's a hassle, but I'm obligated to ask, otherwise I wouldn't be doing my job." Snow made sure to keep the courteous tone as he tried to read Xuumo's body language.

The human was trying to put him at ease, then? The square was indeed more spacious, but Xuumo knew that an open paw was all too often the disarming prelude to an attack. Did Snow have something to use against him, perhaps, some suspicion backed with evidence, or was he now being paranoid? Being elcor, he had no intention of arriving hastily at conclusions, but his knowledge of Snow was poor, and the man's pleasant manner difficult to read. But then Snow had always struck him as unusually subtle for a biped. And he had been lax in gathering information that might tell him more about the man; this enforced isolation was getting to him. Too many mistakes.

Still, the human seemed distracted too, from what he could tell. Perhaps this was indeed just a coincidental encounter, and neither of them had been prepared for this latest round of the game. Had he been human, he might have pursed his lips. The elcor equivalent, a low rumble beyond most humans' hearing, would likely go unnoticed. Snow was another obstacle he must endure, albeit one potentially more dangerous than Alonso's reticence. Meddling bipeds, he thought, with a sourness that he tried to clamp down on. Building trust with this suspicious human was a challenge he didn't believe he'd succeed at, but a wary peace was possible - probably all he could hope for - and he needed to leave this encounter having established it to his satisfaction.

"Measured regard: Thank you, Mr. Snow. Your sensitivity is appreciated. Casually empathic: I hope Ms. Rondor is well? It's true that we haven't seen that much of her lately..."

Out of habit, he shifted his body mass in a way that would have allowed another elcor to read a slight accusatory undertone.

Let's remind him that if he cared for Alonso's wellbeing and not just his little feud with those damnable gangs, he would have followed up on this sooner.

"No need to apologise Xuumo, the lack of contact is equally my fault," keeping his courteous tone, Snow found an empty spot across from a hanar/human juggling duo. The lanky ex-marine took in the atmosphere as he sat down, looking up at Xuumo in curious interest. The elcor was always cordial, yet cagey, why he was allowed to adopt a duct rat was beyond Snow's understanding of human adoption policy, but as to the why Alonso Curti specifically, that was a different story,

"Work is rather busy, as you know, times are well, tough. Which means plenty of duct rats come through LTD's doors, but Miss Rondor prides herself on looking after each case individually and thoroughly. We try not to neglect any of our charges, past and present. So that brings us to the question of how Alonso Curti is adapting to his new living arrangements, if you don't mind sharing?"

Finishing up, Snow lowered his hood, letting Xuumo get a good look at his dead grey eyes, the charity worker settling in to hear Xuumo's summation, or questions, if it was the latter, this would be a touch more difficult.

Xuumo stood stiffly, the human seated across from him, folding himself into the sitting position that merely reinforced just how soft and fragile these beings were. You could bend them in two. Snow had eased into a pose that was surprisingly relaxed; or so he wanted Xuumo to think. He gave every impression that this was to be a friendly, casual meeting. And yet he was clearly making himself comfortable; he intended to be comprehensive. Joy. Xuumo couldn't tell whether Snow was personally invested, or just dutiful in performing his job.

He shifted his body mass slightly, finding the most comfortable balance. Why he had worn his old huip-horn sheath today he didn't know. How long before he was dressed as eccentrically as one of those volus over at the food market? He was a disgrace to himself.

"Calmly: Thank you again, Mr. Snow. I assume I should begin with a general overview of how the arrangement is holding up?

"Wistful: It has been an adjustment, to be sure. For both of us.

Irked discomfort: Understand, Mr. Snow, that I am not by nature a charitable person. You would not see me taking in displaced children out of the simple kindness of my hearts. I have no intention of making a habit of this". Something that should please you, I'm sure.

"Firmly: Perhaps that is my failing, perhaps not. I cannot know how I sound to you in saying this, nor, respectably, do I care. But I am grateful, very much so, for your allowing me to find Alonso and bring him to safely. Faintly horrified: I hadn't known what danger he was in. He is very dear to me, dear enough that I am willing to take the step to incorporate into my life as much human culture as he will need to be comfortable. Proudly: I will give him back the life he lost, Mr. Snow; that was my vow. His father would tolerate no less, and I will be forever thankful to you and Ms. Rondor for ensuring he was placed in my care. For ensuring that I could fulfil that vow".

He paused, and since this was an elcor pause it stretched on for some time. Snow seemed to be digesting what he'd said.

"Politely speculative: Perhaps it is an elcor thing, Mr. Snow. We're a tight-knit people. Respectably self-deprecating: those from my provincial region all the more so. With mild conviction: You don't leave a herd member to suffer alone, or a loved one to drift on the wind when you can shelter them with your flank. Alonso is precious to me, though I'm sure he'd scowl to hear me phrase it in such terms; you know how boys are. With emphasis: He is not of my hul'dekuu or animated by the same sun, but he is essential to my future standing all the same".

He wondered if that would translate well. He wasn't sure his original phrasing, filtered into the bipeds' rapid tongue, would quite convey what was meant to a sturdy quadruped, though the underlying metaphor should have hit home. Talking to a human, to any biped, was always a chore. The sense of exposure was intense, your physical presence unavoidably pronounced, and yet simultaneously you were a ghost, able to walk unknown among them with all but the broadest of scents and gestures failing to reach an audience. The impression Xuumo had was of talking clearly and simply to fools or to infants, trying to gain a measure of control as they tore around him.

Of late (and this, he thought dourly, was a sign of how far he'd fallen) he had taken to making deliberate obscene movements and subvocalizations in conversation, to express his frustrations and - just maybe - test who was smart enough to pick up on them. It was a natural progression; the bipeds were too dense and the frustration in having to simplify his conversation, without making it sound too unrealistically overblown, was difficult. He couldn't be sure he'd found the balance. Who knew bad acting could be so hard?

The sense of isolation he experienced was terrifying, the sense of freedom from scrutiny engaging. This cursed station, and its restrictions. He wouldn't miss it when he returned home, but he might miss the ability to hide without effort in plain sight.

"Softly: Alonso and I have arrived at an understanding. For the time being".

Snow listened to Xuumo talk at length about Elcor customs and tribal obligations, yet felt as if his original question was left unanswered. "That won't do at all," thinking to himself as he let Xuumo finish, the last statement piquing the charity worker's interest. An understanding? To what question, but Snow decided to let that statement rest, choosing to focus on why he actually meeting with this formal guardian,

"Some rites and customs do crossover I'd imagine, like ensuring the wellbeing of a colleague's family. Not to terribly common on Earth, but not unheard of among some human cultures. But I'm not so much interested in your motivations, rather your provisions for Alonso Curti's re-integration with everyday society. I'm asking you this, not just it being my job, but when I left the street life, it took me months before I was able to function without reverting to gang behaviors. I just want to get Alonso's take on the adoption and see if he's adapting adequately to the change. Whatever your motivations for adopting this duty, it's not my business unless you decide to tell me. I just want to get the meeting for you and Miss Rondor taken care of,"

Finishing, Snow actually was interested in the level of obligation Xuumo felt to Alonso and his deceased, but he felt it was wiser to just keep things small and focused. Besides, Xuumo liked to talk, Snow wasn't going to discourage that inclination as he met the elcor's imperious gaze.

He was providing too much information, most of it repetitive and pointless. It was a trick he'd learnt when dealing with aliens, to compensate for the dangers of over-emphasis. Having to lose the subtexts could lead to an exaggerated and unconvincing manner; long winded speeches helped guard against that. Any lapse in judgement would be lost among the droning monotone lines, and humans had short little attention spans, their minds as weak as their bodies, darting around like whinefly. He shifted his body weight on his front paws, while trying to turn his nose to the side. Someone had left a half-eaten Urdwich under a nearby bench and the smell was distracting. Everything was too confining on this station.

"Business-like: Very well, Mr. Snow. I've been informed that as part of the reintegration process, Alonso will require a medical update in the coming week. We have it scheduled for a doubleday from now. Innocent clarification: That's two days, not including this one".

Snow narrowed his eyes, or so it seemed to Xuumo.

"Dismissively: Several new illnesses on the rise, and he missed several of the new vaccinations. The services people believe there's a need to guard against some of the more virulent. Bluntly: How they're affording that with the ongoing shortages I wouldn't know". They can get vaccinations for former duct rats but no digestive supplies for the station's alien residents. I smell a political agenda somewhere.

He paused. Not important right now.

"Tone equivalent to slight shrugging motion: Perhaps someone on Earth was feeling generous. Inquisitorially tentative: As Alonso will be away from schooling that day anyway, Ms. Rondor, perhaps, could meet us beforehand at my paddock?"

Hopefully, only Ms. Rondor

"Honestly, the Alliance needs all of the good PR it can get, what better way than vaccinations for Lower Tayseri. As for the proposed meeting, I'll discuss it with Miss Rondor, and see if two days from now is suitable for all three of us," delivering the last with a knowing smirk. Snow knew damn well Xuumo didn't care for him, but the charity worker was damned if this tank on legs would attempt to freeze him out. Deciding a fresh tack was needed, Snow decided to allude to the events in the bazaar and the clawball courts,

"Regardless, I don't see any future problems so I just have one question, have you allowed Alonso to have contact with his former duct rat...let's just call it a tribe for the sake of good taste."

"With slight impatience: My people are known for our sociable natures, Mr. Snow. We understand the emotional need to remain in touch with those who grouped with us for survival; it's a need that runs deep.

Slightly affronted: And I had hoped I'd made clear the strong significance that I place on personal loyalty. I take Alonso's need in this regard seriously, I can assure you.

Self-abashment: It hasn't been as easy as we'd hoped, of course. Realistically, I knew the promise would be harder to keep than it might seem. Distant approval: Certainly Alonso likes to keep track of them when he can. He's expressed his commitment to staying close by until their problem with the gangs is resolved to his satisfaction. Pleasantly blasé: Perhaps that is something else we can discuss with Ms. Rondor during the meeting".

"I'm just doing my job Xuumo, if I didn't ask these questions I would be considered negligent. It's an aggravation, I wholly agree, but a necessary one. This way when some uppity SATAE bureaucrat comes knocking, you can point to these tiresome meetings, vaccinations, and paperwork as evidence of your due diligence." Snow maintained eye contact with Xuumo, the two keeping their voices low, but their eyes ignoring the chaos of the bazaar, focused only on each other as they dickered about the time of the meeting and Alonso Curti's wellbeing. The indignantion Xuumo displayed for a moment was revealing, Snow making a mental note before replying,

"I'm afraid you misunderstood my intent of the question Xuumo, I only asked because three of his former 'tribe' came by to LTD, asking about 'Zo', among other things. I'm just asking you in their place, nothing more that."

He never could throw this man off. Xuumo sighed, an exhalation that the translator apparently recognized, helpfully informing Snow that this was "Weary Frustration".

Snow was direct and unabashed in his manner, always blunt in his questioning and unapologetic about it, but he was also complex and subtle. Elcor were good at reading such things, and Xuumo-kalashasi could begrudgingly acknowledge that much the same might be said about himself. If Snow were elcor - and thank Sun and Earth that he wasn't - there would be a very thick and layered scent to him indeed, and for a wistful moment or two Xuumo was disappointed that the nearest he should come to truly meaningful interaction was with a human. After so long among the easily duped bipeds, it was almost refreshing to encounter one who couldn't be taken at face value, who was multi-dimensional enough to challenge that constant feeling that he was walking among cardboard cutouts or holograms, a ghost to them in turn. If he were a krogan, perhaps, or some other deviant alien - he had little respect for those Tuchankan brutes, who with their lifespan and physical strength should know better than to leap before they pondered, or to leap at all - he might have bemoaned the lack of "worthy opponents" on the station, and valued the fact that Snow came close to meeting that requirement. As it was, he permitted himself a moment of appreciation before the force of his annoyance shoved it aside.

It was difficult to decide whether Snow was being totally forthright and just going through the motions in terms of doing his job, or if he was suspicious and trying to probe. Xuumo felt increasingly annoyed. The smell of that half-eaten Urdwich wasn't helping. He took a deep rumbling breath, startling a passing salarian, who hurried on at greater pace. Typical.

"Patiently: The balance is difficult. Alonso must learn to stand on all four - on his own two legs. Stability is required if he is to put aside the last unfortunate two years and resume his place in society, as he deserves. Empathetic: Yet the bonds of companionship are never to be taken lightly.

Knowingly: One thing humans and elcor have in common, Mr. Snow, is the concept of weaning. Bluntly: It is my hope that Alonso can be "weaned" away from reliance on a troubled and frankly unsuitable community of suspicious adolescents. Loyalty and regard from a distance may be the better option. Politely, with hints of invitation: Naturally, I would be pleased to arrange a meeting if his former associates wish to assuage their fears by spending time with him in person.

Bluntly: I would recommend it take place soon".

This is my life now; meetings. Come and see the elcor, nine-to-five. Be sure to ask annoying questions.

"Yeah, I'm familiar with concept of weaning, though just a cold break seems a bit drastic. It was the same duct rats who helped you locate Alonso." An inquisitive look appearing on Snow's face, processing the elcor's summation. He wasn't half wrong, letting Torr, Kakro and Junar visit wasn't a good idea, but meeting up at LTD for some classes once shit died down wouldn't be too unreasonable. Besides, those three weren't a lost cause, and Snow was damned if Xuumo was going to write them off as such,

"I wasn't going to suggest you invite the lot of them over for what we humans call a sleepover, rather a reunion in a more controlled setting, like Leaving the Ducts or St. John Paul's cathedral once the gang idoicy dies down. The whole lot of them survived an apocalyptic war together, that's a bond not easily severed." Letting his voice lower slightly, Snow straightened up, tossing the distracting Urdwich in the garbage, his eyes remaining focused on Xuumo, the lumbering, yet rather cunning elcor forcing Snow to remember his ABC's, Always Be Cool.

"Respectful acknowledgement: You make sense enough, Mr. Snow. Decisive declaration: Yes, I will speak to Alonso of this tonight. Certainly I'll let him know that you remain as committed to helping his friends as you were to helping him.

With knowing significance: I certainly haven't forgotten your efforts on his behalf. Measured regard: You deserve to have those efforts acknowledged, just as Alonso deserves to have his concerns laid rest.

With hints of self-abashment: I may have been too committed to seeing him reintegrate into normal society, and in doing so have possibly neglected other concerns. We are still...adjusting.

Introspectively: Yes".

Indeed he had neglected other concerns, and now it could cost him.

This might complicate matters. It's too soon to bring the others into play; I cannot tread among them until I have something concrete to bring in with me. He could hardly lie, though, not when he would rely on follow-up-contact with the humans in the very near future. Of course, he could conceivably just slip away - for all that elcor could "slip" - but that would hardly leave him room to turn at a later point, and such rash decision making was precisely what led to the entire two-year nightmare in the first place. No, he'd need to do this in good faith. He'd have to work it into his plans, somehow. An exercise in adaptation.

Perhaps use the ongoing gang situation as an excuse - suggest it would be in everyone's favour to remove distractions at a critical junction. Hmmm. He'd need to look into just how that foolish gang war was unfolding.

"Cautiously: As I say, there might be complications in the coming weeks regarding our availability. That, however, I can discuss more fully with Ms. Rondor when she meets with us. I appreciate your reminding me of my full obligations.

Wary regard: Please pass along my regards to Ms. Rondor and extend my invitation to meet with us during the checkup. Any questions she might have...

Bland politeness: Is there anything else, Mr. Snow?"

"With everything that has happened, it's understandable that some matters end up overlooked." The elcor was rather nimble minded, giving up little while keeping up the pretence of transparency. Snow slowly stood up, knowing that this was the limit for now, no sense in pushing too hard...yet. Giving Xuumo a bland smile, the ex-convict decided to wrap things up,

"Thank you for your cooperation, and again, my apologies for any inconvenience. I'll pass on your request and Miss Rondor will call with further details." Standing up, Snow realised that while neither him or Xuumo were less than forthright, this dance needed to stop...for now.