Libation (open)

In the weeks approaching and following the anniversary of the end of the war, there was an influx of patrons to just about every bar, cafe, and grimy apartment that could provide even halfway decent rotgut. That meant swarms of drunks wandering around Nos Astra, which wasn’t a big problem for the slimy varren trying to get people to sign idiotic contracts… But for those who managed to stay sober, it was a huge problem.

Doran traced her fingers over the bar – imitation zelana if she was any judge – following the thin veins of eezo trapped in the wood like threads of blue silk. An asari on a corner stage crooned a song in heavily-accented thessian that spelled ‘loss’ in any language.

“Biotic Slam over here.” She pitched her voice just loud enough that the bartender could hear her over the low, moody music. A flick of his mandibles, then a sharp nod when he realized she probably wouldn’t understand the motion, was the only indication he heard.

The Eclipse mercenary was fresh off patrol, one shoulder her armor marked with a hastily improvised sticker that indicated one of the ‘lucky volunteers’ supporting the Illium police (the irony wasn’t lost on her) during the reconstruction. Soon that temporary employment would come to an end, and she would return to active duty. About freaking time. Either way, things had slowed down enough that she had the opportunity to drink and remember the dead.

A glass was placed before her equally quietly. The turian with the flashy purple facepaint who worked the bar was normally more chatty, (and this place wasn't normally so gloomy) but by now he’d figured out he wasn’t going to get much more than a grunt.

“Thanks.” She raised her glass to Purple-Face, then to the nearest patron. “Here’s to the brave bastards who can’t be with us tonight.”

She took a gulp and her dark face twitched with the effort of not pulling a grimace. The Biotic Slam was a drink that churned blue and purple, with a fizz like champagne and a burn like swallowing coals. It was not and never would be the kind of drink you threw back like a shot. The aftertaste was pleasant though… indescribably smooth, something like peaches or citrus.

The nearest patron raised his own glass in response, and ordered a refill...plus, after glancing over at the lady, another drink for her as well. Chester had come back from guard duty. Particularly, guarding some megacorp's warehouse from, I dunno, the fucking mongrel hordes for all they knew. It had involved several hours of standing and walking around, and not once had he ever needed to go for a weapon.

Still, could've been worse. He could've been one of the poor saps that were helping law enforcement.

"How much longer are you and the other's sticking around playing cops?" he asked, good naturedly. He was wearing a T-shirt, and on his neck, clear as day(hohohohoho) was the mark of Eclipse.

Doran eyed the second drink for longer than strictly necessary before mentally shrugging and taking a more measured sip. It wasn’t a good idea for someone like her to get drunk, but this was well below her limit. She scanned the room in a way that was deceptively casual. It would probably be uncharitable to ignore him, given he’d just bought her a drink… and she talked to him first.

“No telling. You know how bureaucrats are – they say one year to rebuild, it’ll be more like five or ten.” Her fingers flicked in a dismissive gesture. “Last orders were the rest of us are supposed to withdraw over the next few months. Let the regular patrols take over, once they’ve got a decent force built up again. Can’t say I believe them.”

A sidelong glance. “What about you? Ready to ditch patrol jobs?”

He gave her a nod and a grin.

"Give me a blood pack turf war any day over this bullshit. Warehouse duty. Might as well be a rent-a-cop. A year ago it was non stop action, and I couldn't turn around without blowing some husk's head off. Now it's 'Go stand in this warehouse full of furniture and shit and look intimidating.'" he snorted, taking another drink.

There was a moment of silence before he straightened up and turned to face her fully. "Chester Quihanna, 18th company, heavy munitions and all other manner of explosives." He introduced himself.

The bar must have some subliminal messaging to garner the attention of Eclipse members. Another trooper stalked in, still wearing his inverted silver and black armor. A few months ago he'd made fun of in a drunken slur, an officer who'd worn his armor to a bar. Now, he understood intimately why he couldn't be bothered to change out of uniform.

[il]Because this place makes Bekenstein white collars comparably sane.[i]

He made his way to the bar, pulling his helmet off, revealing the his aquiline features to the world.

"A shot of White Singularity, and keep it coming."

He glanced elsewhere in the bar, and, seeing two fellow members of the corp. He raised his glass in their direction before downing it.

“Doran,” was all she supplied. “Used to be just another gun… mostly play nursemaid to greenhorns these days.”

It wasn’t exactly an ‘official’ thing, but if there was a new recruit who just needed a little polishing up they somehow ended up assigned to her patrols. She didn’t mind really, even if she complained to hell and back. Technically she was a Vanguard, but there was no need to go flashing that around. Even her limited abilities sometimes set other humans on edge. Not usually the case with people dumb or smart enough to run with Eclipse, but she was nothing if not cautious.

She shot a recently arrived colleague in dark armor (Not so different from her own, in fact. Somebody else wanted to avoid buttercup yellow.) a nod and a smile that might have been friendly.

It would probably be a good idea to eat something. Could she meet her calorie intake for the day in beer? If people she might have to work with in the future weren’t there, she might have tried it. As it was, she settled on a glass of something that looked a lot like alcohol until you realized it was Illium’s variation on an energy drink. There was some cheap liquor back at the apartment when she wanted to get shitfaced.

“Went head-to-head with the husks, huh? I got evac duty at first. Front lines took care of the brunt of it.”

"Yep. Got to be part of Hammer Squad down on earth. Was there when the crucible did it's thing and spend a couple of months after that." Chester drained the rest of his drink, and ordered a refill. He was getting pretty buzzed right now...maybe another drink or two and then he'd get a ride home.

"Since my unit on earth got smashed all to fuck, had to get rolled into another one. Since then, I've been playing security boy." he smirked, and took his drink. "Which is why I'm about ready to begin playing baseball with my grenades in the warehouse tomorrow." He joked. He raised his drink in response to the black suited eclipse member. Whatever you could say about Bekenstein's babies, they didn't look like a hazard sign.

Another person who affected a notable lack of lemon yellow took a seat on the bar. She, for it was a woman, her figure revealed that much, sat to the right of the three Mercenaries. She mutely signalled the purple faced bartender for a drink.

In the back corner of a bar, a salarian sat and stared at a glass of Jaeto's Finest, face scrunched up in what could only be described as unimpressed. Living expenses weren't much of a problem in garrison, but Keynra Dij had recently taken a look at his bank account and determined he'd needed to scale down either the quantity or the quality of the liquor he was using to wile away the days.

Since Command insisted on what was at this point outright taunting him over the future of his job in the corp, the first one wasn't really an option. So Dij had settled for the second, and in the process he'd learned a few things.

First off, Jaeto's Finest could go get crushed under the Wheel. It was a perfectly good liquor in its own right but it wasn't Mannovai Malt, and for Dij that was an irredeemable flaw.

Secondly...well, actually, that was about all he'd learned. But it was still an important enough lesson that he was going to apply it when his next paycheck came in. At least that was dependent on his rank rather than his command.

With a faint snort, Dij took the glass and knocked it back.

Strong.

Better than nothing all the same.

Doran chuckled, toying with her empty can and considering buying something off the limited menu. It was mostly asari-style bar food, along the lines of greasy cheese fries and buffalo wings in human establishments. “I might have to join ya. My arm isn’t half bad.”

Another arrival earned only a quick observation out of the corner of her eye. Mysterious in a way that would normally draw her suspicion, but at the moment the warm glow of alcohol was enough to dismiss it as a harmless anomaly. After a moment she ordered some grilled meat skewers with a spicy-savory, pale green dipping sauce - scanning them with her omnitool out of habit, only digging in when the screen flashed with green text.