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#MSVJackOfDiamonds – February 25, 2018
Many hours have passed, and Senya has awoken from well-needed sleep. She's disappeared into Makk's room in Engineering some time ago, presumably checking up on him. Elena and Wrench are sitting in the stairs of the main Engineering room, chatting with each other. Elena's gotten some rest too, and now has a fresh beer in hand, while Wrench is munching on a sandwich.
Jattic has finally managed to catch up on some sleep as well. Since waking, he's had a meal and then set off to roam the ship in search of Elena. The door to engineering announces his presence as it slides open, but he still clears his throat loudly as he slowly approaches the top of the steps Wrench and Elena are seated upon.
Elena is in the middle of speaking when Jattic enters. "...not exactly a car, but close enough, right? I've got your back, mija. Tortuga's gonna be back on his feet in no time. Ser fuerte." She slips an arm around Wrench and gives her a sidehug before noticing Jattic, looking over her shoulder as she lets go, planting her hand against the metal steps. "Ey Alegre. What's up?"
Wrench turns as well when Elena does, blinking a few times as she looks up at Jattic. Her amber eyes are a little puffy.
Jattic is his usual chipper self, his mouth a thin straight line as he looks from Wrench to Elena. "I... wish to express my condolences on your losses." he says plainly. Despite the lack of emotion behind the offered formality, it's obviously important to him if he's scoured the ship just to say it.
Elena seems a little caught off-guard, biting down a little as her expression turns serious. A small nod follows along with a quiet: "Yeah..." Her energy seems to drain as James returns to the forefront of her mind. Nadia was there too, but the truth was she'd never been very close with the twins. They stuck to each other. "Thanks." Another faint nod as she studies him. "Just... glad the girl's okay." she sighs.
Jattic gives a single, stern nod. He wasn't an advocate for Redrock sticking their necks out for others. But not wanting to risk his own doesn't mean he takes any joy in seeing good people experience such loss. "I must admit-..." he continues, his voice deep and gravelly, "...I had concerns that your people may hinder us. Prevent us from achieving our objective." He's blunt, but there's no sting in his tone. "But I was
wrong. I now believe that you and your people may be the only reason I still stand before you." He tilts his head respectfully, a small gesture that may go entirely unnoticed by those not versed in batarian culture. "And for that, you have my gratitude."
Elena purses her lips slightly and nods again. "Shit got pretty loco back there. But we got out. 'Cause we had each other's backs. So yeah, you... 'have my gratitude' too." she says, repeating what was translated to her. She seems oblivious of the gesture.
Jattic studies Wrench with a newfound respect, but soon enough he looks back to Elena. His only response at first is a small bow of his head. Taking a step back, he looks between the pair once again. "I won't take up any more of your time." he offers apologetically, having gotten what he needed to say off his chest.
Elena seems a little puzzled, her gaze darting to Wrench for a moment, but when Jattic speaks she nods a few more times. "Alright, yeah." she responds, not particularly getting the impression he's someone who'd take her up on an offer to have a seat and a beer. Her attention remains vaguely on him however since he's still standing atop the stairs. Perhaps the conversation he interrupted is deemed to sensitive to
Jattic if uncomfortable by the continued silence or the eyes on him, doesn't show it. He merely stomps down the stairs, navigating past the seated pair as he continues to make his rounds. Next stop: The krogan. As he arrives at the life support door, he presses a hand against the door's interface.
The door opens to a relatively small room. The left wall is covered in machinery while a cot is on the right along with a few crates. Miscellaneous possessions are strewn over them, including his spike thrower and various tools. The air is warm like the rest of engineering, but noticably drier. Makk is sitting in the cot, back in his jumpsuit. He looks tired, worn down. Senya is crouched in front of him, performing a scan with
her omni-tool while they chat. He's wearing a monitoring device on his wrist. "...thought I told you you didn't have to wreck any more organs to have an excuse to talk to me." she says in a casual, joking tone as she works. The comment causes loud laughter from the krogan, but it transitions into strained coughing. Senya interrupts her scanning, standing up to place a hand on his shoulder. The nasty-sounding coughs end soon
enough, and both of them turn their attention to the now-open door when they realize Jattic's presence.
Jattic doesn't pay much mind to the conversation as he steps inside of the room, his four eyes scanning Senya. "Doctor." he greets with a bow of his head before looking to Makk. "Krogan."
Senya turns to face Jattic, looking curious as to what he has to say. Her omni-tool interface is still active. "Kur'don, was it? How are you feeling?"
Jattic draws in a breath, rolling his still-aching shoulders as he folds his arms across his chest. "No worse than everyone else." he offers, not one to bellyache over some bumps and bruises, "The fact that I am feeling at all is a victory in itself." After a brief pause, he adds with a gesture to Makk: "I merely wish to have a word with the krogan. If it is a bad time, I can return later."
Senya raises an eyebrow, glancing briefly to Makk before looking back at Jattic. "Very well." she says, heading for the door. "I'll be back soon." she comments on the way out.
Jattic watches Senya as she exits the room. Once gone, his quad-gaze turns back on the seated krogan. This is where most people would initiate small talk. 'How are you feeling?' 'What's the damage?' etc. But Jattic doesn't do small talk. "You fought well out there." he says simply. About the closest to an apology as Makk is probably going to get for their previous standoff. "Honorably." After a moment's hesitation, he adds
Makk lets out an amused snort at the final addition, another cough following, along with a pained grunt as one hand moves to his side. After the pain settles down he nods, looking back to Jattic. "I don't care much for honor... but I'll take it." A slight chuckle, and a grumble as he shifts slightly. "Hell of a fight. Thought my fighting days were over, but what can ya do."
Jattic doesn't share in on the laughter, arms still folded across his barrel chest. He grunts in agreement. "Hell of a fight." he repeats in a low growl. He gives the large krogan the once over, visibly assessing his state. "But the people on this ship are lucky to have someone so stubborn looking out for them." he says, backhanded compliment intended atop sincerity, "So I suggest you rest up. They may need you in the
Makk chuckles slightly at the first comments, seemingly causing more pain, but the last comment elicits a grunt. "Galaxy's always been a shithole. One bunch of assholes is no different from the next." he says with a shake of his head. A loud sigh. "Rest. Yeah... not a bad plan." he says, leaning back against the wall with a nod as his body seems to relax a bit.
Jattic gives a humorless snort at Makk's assessment of the galaxy. "Perhaps. But not every 'bunch of assholes' has the technology we witnessed on that ship." A deep sigh follows as he looks away from Makk, his gaze traveling to the door. They aren't friends that are going to go down to have a drink at the local bar together. He isn't going to go back to his cot and worry over Makk's health. Hell, a couple days ago they
were nearly at each other's throats. But they're on the same side. They fought- and survived- alongside one another when the odds were against them. If nothing else, that earns Makk a level of respect in Jattic's book. "But that is a problem for another day. I will leave you to it. Rest well, krogan." he offers before stepping towards the door unceremoniously.
Makk lets out a snort, remaining leaned against the wall. "You're alright. For a batarian." he says, mild amusement crossing his weary face.
Jattic pauses at the door, hazarding a glance back at Makk. "Hollow words coming from the mouth of a krogan." he grunts back. But his words lack any real bite despite the flat delivery. No pats on the back. No emotional apologies. Just two curmudgeons with a little more mutual respect than they had a few days ago. And that's enough for Jattic. The soft clank of boots announce his departure.