[Rec Center, Nos Astras] Retro Revival

This, in all honesty, was probably a bad idea.

On a whole, information brokers tended to stay as far away from alcohol and other mind-altering substances as much as possible. Submitting to such vices often led to Bad Situations, the likes of which could get one killed in the blink of an eye. With this in mind, Cerastes had spent the better part of the evening studying up on the latest chess tactics, most of which operated upon custom modifications to the game itself. For drell, this creative notion was of the utmost importance: without a continually-shifting plane, drell could memorize every strategem and then some, which often resulted in a boring series of wins for them.

Still, the promise of Ana's modification to the game was too great to resist, and he was almost certain he hadn't found it on the extranet, not if it was truly custom. The broker paused outside the entrance of Nos Astras's recreational center, his crimson gaze flicking rapidly over his surroundings in order to plan any potential escapes. Social outing or no, Cerastes had habits he couldn't overcome.

Once he was satisfied with his environment, the drell strolled into the establishment proper and checked in. He was early, of course, but Ana'therion had proven to be punctual herself; it would be a matter of luck if he'd made it there before her. Fortunately, when he entered the room at the end of one of the building's many corridors, he was treated to an empty and pristine view: the space they'd rented, suited for small parties, was impeccably clean, as it should have been considering the price-tag. Cerastes headed towards the kitchen island and set his brief-case atop it, then relieved it of a few spare shot-glasses and a bottle of Red Devil.

A knock sounded on the door shortly thereafter.

"You're only ten minutes and twenty-five seconds early," he rasped, loud enough for the visitor to hear. "Come in."

"Well excuse me, Mr. Cerastes S., if that is in fact your real name. Some of us don't really have the option of jogging from the penthouse, in light of...obstacles that we can't see and having to carry things and...stuff."

It was true that Ana'Therion had not jogged in a year or so, owing to the fact that interpreting tactile proximity input was a little harder than just looking for obstacles and that made moving at any pace faster than a brisk walk very hazardous. It was true also that she was carrying things - a handled Clash At Arachnus case in one hand, and an unopened bottle of Caliente! Red Devil in the other. She had, at least, walked briskly, since she was a bit out of breath.

Despite all of this, she was smiling under the visor. It had been a good day - she'd been feeling unusually good when she awoke and surprised Daia with a very affectionate wakeup call, then made plans to visit the forest preserve with Taleeze and dug the bottle out of the liquor cabinet, then spent most of the day at the office finishing some projects up. And all this without having taken her painkillers (after all, she was going to drink, probably somewhat heavily). Ana was lucky in that regard; she'd felt fine for most of today, and though some discomfort had gradually begun building over the course of the day, it'd probably be forgotten once she got some alcohol in her.

"So it turned out that all I had on hand was Caliente!, despite thinking I had some regular Red Devil," she said, making her way over to him in that cautious, mincing way that she'd used to get in and out of Rori's. The case settled onto the kitchen island, and the quarian followed suit with a chair. "Hope that's okay - between you and me, we should have enough alcohol to fill all the pieces, I think."

It was not, in fact, his real name.

Not that it mattered. Cerastes had made a quick observation of the room they'd rented, noting in particular that it had only one exit - well, if you were uncreative, that is. The window that faced the sparkling lights of Nos Astra could provide an additional route if necessary, but it was also an opportunity for strangers to look inside. His eye twitched at the thought; this was why he didn't keep friends.

Well, it wasn't like they were about to do anything questionable (although he knew so very well just how wrong a photo could look, given the right angle). Pushing aside his paranoia took some effort, but the spring in Ana'therion's step as she felt her way over to him in the kitchen did wonders.

"Your inferior memory proved useful then," he shot in turn. There was a hint of a grin smothered in his voice as he lined the bottles up beside each other. "I happened to have had the regular variety with me," he didn't, but the liquor store did, "so the breadth of our flavors has just expanded."

His gaze shifted from the bottles, to Ana, to the case as she set it down on the island.

"If you're having second-thoughts, now might be the time to admit your defeat. Pre-emptive self-preservation, as it were."

"Don't you sass me," said the quarian, opening the Clash At Arachnus case and setting up the framework for the holo-board. She fumbled a little with attaching the frames - having not done it at all in some time, let alone blind, it was uncomfortably unfamiliar - but was making slow and steady progress nonetheless. The pieces representing various army units were easy enough to identify by touch, and each one had room for a full shot of the Red Devil. "I was in the office for five hours and I'm off my painkillers, so don't think for a second that I'm not irritable enough to take you down and stretch you until you beg."

This was in a distinctively jovial tone. Sometimes it was hard to tell when Ana'Therion was joking about things.

"Make yourself useful and start filling the armies with shots," she said, clicking the final piece of the frame into place. It was a traditional Clash map - a square plain with a raised center (the holographic add-ons, as Ana turned the set on, portrayed it as a mountain). With growing familiarity, she continued to turn on the indicators for resource nodes all over the map. "...Uh, and could you let me know if one of these doesn't light up? There isn't really an audio cue."

Cerastes chuffed defiantly, even while gently assisting Ana with the pieces. He knew better than to get in and do everything for her - he hated that, himself - but he could, at the very least, help her without injuring her pride.

"You're acting like that's a punishment," he retorted. The corked top to the bottle of Red Devil slid off with a hearty sound, familiar to all friends of liquor. Cautiously, the drell leaned over and sniffed at it. Huh. Not bad, really, although he hadn't had any of the stuff in well over a year. "Once again, you're going to have to try harder than that."

The process of pouring out the shots was an arduous one. Had Ana been able to see, she undoubtedly would have been amused: Cerastes was carefully pouring samples from both bottles into separate shot glasses, and ensuring with increasing caution that the level was even between all glasses. It was the textbook example of an over-organized mind at work.

His eyes switched occasionally between his work and the board. "No issues thusfar. Were you able to traverse between your home and the center without much trouble?"

The more she pried, the more he revealed. It had potential. Maybe in another life, she supposed; her days of being able to entertain that kind of possibility were over, in several different ways.

"Thanks. I don't really trust myself to pour the liquor, obviously." She took a second from prepping the board to search in her belt, and popped out a fresh roll of decon tabs. They were terrible, terrible things, making whatever you dissolved them in taste like a hospital smelled, but from a safety perspective, there wasn't much of a choice there. "Oh, I got here all right. I'm familiar with about...I'd say a five-block radius around the penthouse, and this is only two blocks, so there we are. You know, at first, it was totally overwhelming. I didn't know how I would get around the apartment, back during the war, let alone how I would manage to go anywhere for work or whatever. I mean, thirty years I'd depended on my sight, and now it was just gone, you know?"

At least the pieces for the different sides were identifiable enough, and so Ana began setting up her 'army'. While her memory wasn't even close to the drell's, she remembered most of her basic preferences, and placed an advance guard led by a Judge Of Souls on her side. It was an unorthodox choice for a vanguard, one that had often caught people off guard just enough to give her an advantage.

"After a while it got easier, though. I mean, it was pretty much an adapt-or-die situation, so...well, I adapted. There are still a lot of things I can't do, won't ever be able to do again, but I'm functioning a lot better than I thought I'd be at the beginning."

"Mmm," he hummed in answer. To be getting along like that in a city like Nos Astra, completely by her lonesome; it was no small feat. "I will walk with you back at the end of the night, regardless. It may be a late hour."

Where he'd managed to develop a sense of priopriety and good manners was a mystery, but at least he was consistent with them. Once all of the pieces had been filled, he assisted Ana in placing them on the board, though he was more or less following her lead. Huh - well, it was essentially what he'd seen when he'd searched for the game on the extranet. Everything looked... different; it was based on chess, but the game was heavily modified in ways beyond the 'unique' set pieces. This might actually be a challenge for the first five minutes.

"You do appear to be doing well with it, though," he added after a moment. "I don't believe many could cope or, as you put it, adapt as well, given your situation." The drell squinted at Ana's setup, then looked to her faceplate instinctively. "Are we ready? I assume you're going to give me the run-down, unless you want me to actually get a shot in before we end the first game."

Truth be told, he'd already researched and memorized most of the strategies commonly available, but he wanted to see what Ana would have to say to him beforehand. Her synopsis might reveal something about her playstyle, and besides, he was, well.

Cocky.

"That's kind of you. I've been a little more...security-conscious lately, so I'd appreciate it." Although the darkness obviously didn't bother her, walking even two blocks at night made her a little nervous. Cerastes' offer was much appreciated.

Well, assuming he was in any condition to walk her home. Granted, Ana held no illusions about untouchability; chances were very good they would both be completely smashed by the end of this thing. They both had considerable handicaps, after all. She was out of practice and blind, and he...was apparently playing this for the first time, if his words were any indication? Also he was playing an unabashed cheat-to-win cutthroat, but he didn't need to know that.

"Keelah, I said like five times it was going to be Clash At Arachnus; you could've just said 'I don't know how to play that, Ms. Ana' and we could play...I don't know, Nom Nom Varren or something more on your level." The torrent of good-natured abuse gave way pretty quickly to straightforward friendliness, though. "Seriously, though, it's just like An'Khul Pyramid Chess except with variable pieces. You put three champion units' worth of pieces on top of the mountain and you win - and you can decrease the required number of forces on top of the mountain by capturing the resource nodes at the bottom. I've got the maneuver rules memorized, but you can look at the holo readout if you need specifics on how each piece moves."

And, of course, taking a piece meant you got the shot. A fine reward, that.

Good, she was going to let him escort her. The intentions behind the gesture were entirely platonic, but he was vaguely aware that the offer could have come off wrong, for once. Generally, any innuendo in his speech tended to go over his head; he wasn't driven enough by sex to connect the dots most of the time.

Finally, the drell took his seat kitty-corner to Ana. The kitchen island was a bit awkward for this sort of game, but he assumed the liquor would abolish all concerns soon enough. Once again, the fact that he may become tipsy (at the very least) sprung to mind. He'd have to keep his lips sealed later on, but it had been so long since he'd had more than a single glass at one time... Concern over the many secrets he kept was an important factor in their evening. Maybe he'd just pretend to take some of the shots, if she managed to get more than one of his pieces out of the way. It wasn't like he hadn't lied to her already.

... then again, her explanation of the rules was almost childlike. His worry might have been ill-founded.

"Alright, then, 'Miss Ana,'" he said, "I'll be a gentleman - ladies first."

Cerastes was being hustled.

He didn't know it yet, of course, and wouldn't for some time, but there was a diabolical mind at work as Ana'Therion took the first turn with seeming innocence.

"Well, let's see here...it's been forever since I've played this, gotta remember the board layout. If I remember correctly, I should be closest to the northeast node," she began, with a suspiciously ambling casualness to her tone, "so I'll use my minor action to garrison the mine with the advance guard and my major action to advance the Judge around the mountain."

Well, so far that was totally innocuous, and may have engendered a feeling of security that was totally shattered a moment later.

"If you don't mind me asking, why do you walk with a limp? Is it something with your leg, or your back?"

The terminology of the game was absolutely ridiculous.

"Surprised you didn't take the Switchback with your Judge," replied Cerastes, his tone smooth and even. He raised his gaze to her again, but that deliberate deadpan of her movements, the distinct lack of tells was at work again. She was good. She might have even made a fine broker.

The drell's attention was drawn back to the board as Ana finished moving her pieces. Hrn. Her strategy was... what the hell was it, anyways? Was she even following a plan? He furrowed his brow, scales shifting over the flesh beneath, and ran a fingertip along the edge of a glass.

Luckily, he hadn't picked it up yet. Ana's observation a second later struck him with a pinch of surprise, which held evident in the air when he remained silent for just a tick too long before replying. She must have been listening to his footfalls, there was no other way for her to know.

"An old accident," he said. "Fifteen years ago. You've a very good ear, Ms. Ana."

Fingertips drummed on the countertop.

"For my minor action, I re-arrange the Executioner to stand beside my King. For the minor, I move my First Brigade through the Valley. Your turn, Ana." The blank smile was he wore was almost tangible. Had this been anything but a social call, he would have asked her an ominously personal question in turn, but the purpose of this evening wasn't to interrogate or intimidate her. He had to hold his tongue.

The Switchback was indeed lingering at the slopes of the mountain. One could only wonder why as Ana'Therion advanced the Judge towards a resource node - one on Cerastes's side of the board, even. Gutsy.

"Minor action to move the Judge towards the quarry. You kind of need good ears when you can't see," she replied, fingers playing idly at the mouth of the Red Devil bottle. "The suit gives me enough feedback to get a general idea of when things are close, how close they are, and their general size, but that only goes so far in terms of understanding my surroundings."

As she'd mentioned to him, the first few months of adjusting had been difficult. Everything had been upset - she had to learn to live all over again, in a sense.

"For my major action, I'm going to go ahead and move the Second Brigade towards the mountain here, to join the Switchback. You're up." She rested an elbow on the table, propping her head up with a palm. "Sorry if the leg question was a bit overly personal. Just wondering. I've become a little more...attentive to the whole 'disability' thing, I guess, for obvious reasons. All right, let's spill some blood, I'm ready to start drinking."

"Clever girl."

It was refreshing to have company on the same level as him. Shirin was an intellectual, but she also had an amazing habit of nailing him between the legs and/or committing other various acts of violence at every opportunity. Not that he wasn't opposed to a little bit of scuffling now and then, but the younger drell had a certain bloodlust in her that put him off. Their partnership was uneasy, at best.

Cerastes paused, eyeing Ana's fingers as they toyed with the mouth of the bottle, then hastily redirected his stare to the board. Right. She was a married woman, this was a friendship, and he wasn't the sort that even thought that way normally. No reason to start now.

"It's of no consequence," he began. Hrn. Which pieces to move... "People are naturally curious. I've actually just had surgery," that he needed to find a way to pay for, there would be no favors owed, "so my gait is perhaps a little more off than usual. The entire knee was replaced, which is why I'm planetside to begin with. Physical therapy, you see."

At her request to really get the game going, he simply shrugged, said, "Your will be done," and slid two pieces around on the board. "My First Brigade takes your Second at the base of the mountain. Minor action... pushing the Pawn further out front and positioning them in the Valley. Bottom's up, Ms. Ana."

"I see. Congratulations on your replacement, especially since it means you could afford Nos Astra healthcare." Ana listened as the pieces slid across the board, and first blood was drawn. "It's really quite prohibitive, even if you do like most people and sell yourself to one of the major HMOs."

This was based in personal experience, of course. She'd spent a few chronological days' worth of free time, at this point, browsing restorative surgeons and tissue-cloning banks local to Illium. The cost of dermal regeneration procedures was out of her reach, even in her current (moderately lucrative) job, and getting new eyes was absolutely exorbitant.

Still, over the last month, she'd begun diverting her savings away from the investment fund she'd set up for herself almost a decade ago. With it becoming increasingly evident that they weren't going to have children (this was fine with Ana, who hated the little bastards), there wasn't exactly much to save up for, except perhaps retirement, and she already had a separate account for that. And so she'd begun building up a separate fund, taking generously from her paycheck, to build up the necessary money to get a full regen treatment. It wouldn't bring her eyes back, but it would help; the scarring would be gone within a month or so and, after a while longer, the pain would begin to fade, permanently.

It bothered her a little that vanity had begun to consume her this way, but this would solve a lot of problems. It was worth a little distasteful thinking.

There wasn't much time to ruminate on that, though; the armies had clashed, her brigade was taken, and now the shot was hers. Dropping a tablet into the glass, Ana poured the fizzing mixture into her suit's filtration unit and, while she waited for it to finish, made her move. "Oh, very nice. For my major action I'm going to have the Judge erect a Ritual of Souls outside the node and summon a Scourge of Penitence, and for my minor action, well, that Scourge is headed straight for your fightmans."

The angelic castigator crashed into the side of Cerastes' brigade, and digitized screams rose from the board.

"Let's drink together, shall we?" The quarian allowed herself a sly grin beneath the visor, and raised the end of her induction tube in support. "To friends, enemies, and especially the combinations thereof."

Holy ancestors, Red Devil was hotter than she remembered.

"A few lucrative assignments prior to the operation were to thank for that. Finances are never stable in this line of work, but sometimes a particularly invested client comes along, and you get a new knee out of it."

A quick glance revealed a shift in her posture. He'd never seen her face beneath the plate, but he knew she'd lost her eyes; perhaps Ana was thinking of opting for surgery, herself. Such operations were never easy - he watched as she turned ever-so-slightly and refocused on the game. Time to change topics.

... which was timely, considering her Scourge had just wiped out his First Brigade.

"Ahhhh, you trickster." That throaty chuckle sounded off again, dry and deep. He reached for a shot glass, then leaned forward and clinked it against hers. "You wanted me to go for that, didn't you? I suppose it's fair that I let you get at least one point."

With that verbal shot taken, he took another in the form of his drink. It burned less pleasantly than the caliber of liquor he was used to, but it was pleasant all the same, especially with the little kick at the end. This must have been the Caliente! - Red Devil wasn't normally that spicy.

Now, he had to plot revenge. The drell planted his elbow on the counter and plopped his chin in his palm while he squinted at the board, his other hand resting on his hip. She wasn't using any known strategy, so she had to be free-forming, which... was actually a very smart move, considering who she was playing with.

"Major - Ambassador moves towards the mountain base, and I'm going to consume my minor by bringing the small set of pawns with him. Think you can handle that?"

"I did indeed want you to go for it," Ana confessed, with mock solemnity. "Thank you for obliging."

One shot was not nearly enough to get her wobbling, but it'd been a long time since she'd had Red Devil, and the liquor left her hoarse for a moment. Considering her voice was already a bit Joplinesque, Ana figured she may as well cough before her words became indistinguishable from Cerastes's.

A second of throat-clearing later, she sounded normal again. "Oh, I'm sure I'll think of something. He's right over here?" the quarian asked, pointing. "Well, that's a bit of a dilemma, isn't it..."

It was. Chances were reasonably good Cerastes could kill the Switchback and the pawns deployed with it if she didn't reinforce, but those reinforcements could also go towards a beachhead of sorts into his territory. High risk, high reward, maybe?

...yeah, definitely. Time to get all kamikaze. "Well, minor action to move my Third Brigade up here and reinforce the node with the Judge of Souls, and now major action to continue my Scourge World Tour and attack your base camp. Let's start with the Minister. Your shot."

The gloves were now off, and it was becoming quickly apparent that Ana'Therion played for keeps.

Piss.

Maybe she was a bit better at this than he'd given her credit for. Cerastes narrowed his eyes as she nudged his Minister with her glass, the gesture clearly a taunt, friendly though it might have been. The quarian's tactics were growing more and more aggressive, which was reflected in her speech - he'd have to knock her down a peg.

"I hate to do this to a lady," sighed the broker, "but unfortunately, Ms. Ana, you've forgotten that I moved my Executioner earlier. You may take my Minister, but your Scourge has, as they say, bitten the dust. Your shot, my move."

Just to put a little more 'oomf' into it, he clinked his glass back against hers and allowed himself a grin. Ahh, now the stakes were going up, the game was getting interesting, and the conversation was sure to follow. He wondered what she'd tell him once she'd gotten a few shots in her.

Speaking of, shit. He had to take his. Begrudgingly, he picked up his shot glass and tossed it back; there was no residual burn this time, which meant it was one of the normal Red Devil glasses. Still, the liquor sat in his throat and simmered, reminding him of how long it had been since he'd done this.

"Now," he said, then ran his tongue over his lips thoughtfully, "you ignored my Ambassador, which is a tremendously poor move on your part, I'm afraid. I move up the Switchback and subdue your Judge using Diplomaticus, then for my minor, push the pawns past to clear the way ahead. I hope you like the Red Devil."

Oh, damn. Wow. She may have lost that particular gamble.

Well, that was what happened when you played with chance. Ana'Therion grinned despite her misfortune and filtered another shot. "Oh, I do, I do, I do. You got me there, I suppose - down the hatch." She sucked the whole thing down from the induction tube and winced - this one must have been regular, because the decon tab had left it tasting a bit more sterile than usual. Ugh. Nonetheless, that was three shots now, and as the alcohol spread through her system, it was like embracing an old friend. A happy warmth began to spread over her, along with that cheerful sense of self-removal that often came with drinking.

"Go ahead and fill it back up," she chirped, pushing the Scourge over to Cerastes. "You know, for when I decide to respawn the Scourge." That wouldn't be this turn, of course - action economy was limited and if she didn't stop the rout she'd soon be shooting more Red Devil. Not that more Red Devil sounded unappealing.

"In the meantime, my major action is going to deploy my Minister and drop a cripple hex on your cute little advance party on the mountain, so that's...half movement speed, if I remember right. Unless you dispel it." A pause, and then her grin was audible. "Oh. But you need a Minister to do that. In the meantime, minor action will move my last brigade and my Executioner up to the mountain and blockade it. Good luck getting the necessary number of units up there."

By the sound of her voice, Ana was miles ahead of him in the alcohol category. Cerastes wasn't particularly skilled at holding his alcohol, either, although it was less due to his species and more due to the fact that he hardly ever touched the stuff. Coffee tended to be his regular poison, regardless what time of day (or night) it was. He felt the two shots, but not so intensely as his company, which was how he liked it; less risk of him talking, that way.

"Has anyone ever told you how exceptionally cheeky you are?" he asked, not realizing that yes, she had probably been told that many, many times in a different context. Obediently, he filled up the Scourge glass and leaned in to stare at the pieces.

"Mm. Sometimes the best offense is defense," he rumbled. A pale hand reached out and pushed the pawns back at half-pace. "Pawns retreating for minor action; major, Executioner begins to cross the Valley. You'd best move quickly if you want to keep your little 'blockade' going."

He clinked two glasses together, just to emphasize, and stretched his legs out habitually. His left knee was feeling better today, but it was still stiff, and left a tad sore from the exercises earlier. Even so, each day brought with it more mobility, and the alcohol was set to drown away the pain, so... life was good.

"Oh, look who thinks he's Shepard at the gates," Ana drawled, in lieu of taking the (all too obvious) response. "Instead of maintaining the cripple hex for a minor action, the Minister drops it and lands the pacifism hex on your Executioner - major action respawns the Scourge at the altar and sends him head-on at the Executioner."

She paused for a second, pursing her lips, and two fingers drummed at her vocalizer.

"Wait, does pacifism work on the Execute ability? I...honestly don't remember. I think I might've just netted myself another shot. Hang on..." Low, indistinct murmuring echoed inside her helmet as the quarian pulled up a rule sheet with voice commands, and using the text-to-speech VI, browsed until she got to the appropriate section. At last: "Yup! Take a shot."

Ana rested her helmet on both hands as Cerastes drank. "Ancestors, look at us," she half-slurred (it hadn't been that many shots yet, but she was certainly tipsy). "We're...we're carousing. Like young people. I haven't caroused since the war, if you don't count melds. Not that I really can, anymore, but y'know. Carousal."

A pause.

"That's not a word, is it?"