Litae's Grace is much as Elena last left it. Dark, gritty, and full of regulars. The small, constantly shifting holographic neon displays behind the squared counter in the center of the room display many of the drinks on offer and provide the majority of the light in the room, allowing patrons to disappear into the dark corners of the room. The screens- usually showcasing some manner of sporting event to provide some background distraction-
#Litae'sGrace – June 2, 2019
are the center of attention tonight. The usually-loud music has been turned a bit lower tonight in favor of the around-the-clock news coverage of the Collectors' defeat that's playing on every screen. As such, most of the bar's inhabitants are situated around the counter tonight, some even having decided to stand- drinks clutched closely to their chest- so they can remain close to their friends in spirited discussion. Only a few barstools
remain unclaimed, but there's a handful of unused booths that line the wall. Unsurprisingly, tonights rowdy crowd is pretty human-centric tonight. Plenty wear some manner of armor, weapons openly on display.
Wrend- the establishment's resident krogan- remains near the back door with little interest in the night's festivities. He's just there to look every bit as mean as he is and encourage anyone who might be thinking of starting trouble to reconsider. The second security guard, Eddie- a rough-looking light skinned human in Terminus assault armor, head shaved down to stubble and sporting a neat, trimmed goatee- seems to have a bit more of a
vested interest, remaining near the counter with a small group of armored humans as they watch the continued news coverage. The familiar bartender- a woman in her late thirties in a pair of beat up old jeans and a simple dark undershirt, dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail- looks decidedly less tired tonight. She's behind the bar, back against the counter so she can look up towards the screen as she laughs and chit chats with Eddie
Elena enters Litae's Grace looking rather different from last time. Cargo pants have been replaced with a pair of slim jeans and black winter boots, and her toolbelt is nowhere to be seen. Her short, brown hair has been styled and without the expectation of field work gold earrings have gone in. She's carried the same odd look ever since sending off her message on her way over, the look of a person trying too hard to be in a good
mood. She unzips her jacket as she approaches the bar, a sleek black jacket that's fairly light for a winter jacket. Worn underneath is a red halter top. Upon reaching the bar she leans against it and waves for the bartenders attention, her gaze drifting to the screens where the big news are playing in the meanwhile.
There's a few glances towards the door as Elena makes her arrival. An armored man at the bar pivots on his barstool, as if expecting someone. He's light skinned with short, brown hair, the sides shaved down to stubble with a nasty bit of scar tissue running from his temple to back behind his ear in an arc, as if someone took a knife to him. He studies Elena with an unfocused gaze, already having searched the bottom of his fair share of
bottles tonight. Not the person he was waiting for, but still human! That's enough to get a lift of his bottle and an off-key 'Whoooo!' that sounds like it's being chased by a burp. A few other drunken cheers chime in. It takes a good minute or so before the bartender manages to notice Elena, Eddie eventually helping to tear her attention away from the screen with a light hearted dig about doing her job. Bartending isn't the most glamorous
of jobs. Bartending here even less so. But tonight, when she steps over to Elena, she's all smiles. "What can I get you?" she asks, having to raise her voice to be heard over some laughter that takes hold nearby.
Elena doesn't seem to mind the wait, the screen holding her attention. Mechanical fingers drum against the counter with a clattering noise as the footage of Collector debris repeats, mixing with leaked images from Horizon. Her gaze has turned a little distant by the time the bartender gets to her. "Beer!" she's quick to reply, smile falling into place, memories hastily pushed back. "And-..." she trails off into a mutter to quiet
Zaylus , for reasons unknown, decides to take the risk. After overstaying his welcome at the hospital again, he caught up on his meager messages during the ride back into his area of town. An unexpected invitation blasted to most of the Redrock personnel from a member of the Jack stained his omni-tool for some time as a crease etched into his brow, mandibles twitching in thought. The
news certainly felt like cause for celebration, and with the crew scattered as they were in the aftermath and sombered by the official debrief, maybe this is what they, and he, could use right now. Then again, walking into the seedy club without his hardsuit felt idiotic, a forfeiture he really only felt comfortable with in the relative safety of the hospital. But with his
Carnifex tucked away safetly and the promise of familiar company, he ventures the risk, and steps up the street to the entrance of the bar. As his hand leaves the door behind him, he grabs the sleeve of the grey sweatshirt and tugs it as far over the sling as it will allow, trying to hide the vulnerability from sight. He scans the sea of faces, mostly human, looking for a
memorable face before his gaze is drawn up to the screens. More and more comfirmation that this isn't a dream. This is really happening. His feet keep drifting closer to the bar and the commotion, eventually breaking off a glance and catching just Elena. First to arrive, huh? Whens the last time he was ever early for something? Well, might as well be polite. He sides up into
her field of view with a upward nod of his head. "Elena, right?" He asks, raising his voice over the din.
The bartender's smile grows a little at the exclamation and she gives a sharp nod. "Beer it is!" she responds, already turning to fetch the woman a drink when she speaks up, causing her to glance back her way once more. "I'll see what I can do." she says with a wink before heading a little further down the bar.
Zaylus doesn't get quite as warm of a reception as Elena. A few idle looks. The drunken, scarred mercenary is nearly half way through a 'Whooo!' before realizing Zaylus isn't human, culminating in a sound of disappointment. He was really looking forward to that 'Whoo'. Zaylus does seem to catch Wrend's attention, however. The krogan, armored body pressed against the wall beside the back door, clearly hasn't forgotten the trouble Zaylus
and the others caused for Quinn. With a raise of his meaty mitts he points to his eyes and then to Zaylus.
Elena smirks slightly and gives the bartender a nod. "Gracias." Her attention turns to Zaylus as he steps into the edge of her vision, raising an eyebrow. "That's me." she confirms, recipocating the nod and shifting to the side a little to make room for him. She has to crane her neck a little to look up at the turian. "You're-... shit. Zealous? Lemme know if I'm fucking it up." she tries with a snicker. The krogan's menacing
Zaylus quickly dismisses the drunken false start, fairly correct in assuming it wasn't for him. Having noted the Krogan standing guard upon arrival, he catches the warning gesture and responds with the same aknowledging head nod, followed by a submissive show of his palm and glance downward. He's got no trouble to bring and it doesn't hurt to let the Korgan know you don't intend on
fucking up his night. Shifting a little into the space provided, he leans a bit to assist in matching up the eyelines between them. "Uhh... close enough." He responds dryly, seeming unbothered by the accented interpretation of his name. "I'm not so much known for zeal, but I'll take it. Am I the first to show up?" He pivots quickly, taking another quick glance around for other
Wrend merely holds Zaylus' gaze for a moment before folding his large arms back across his wide chest. At the very least he's not stomping over to toss Zaylus out on his ass so that's something.
Elena nods. "Uh-huh. You're fast." she snorts. "Guessing your friend couldn't come, huh?" she asks, her face flinching a little, as if she'd rather not be asking about the injured, but feeling like she has to anyway.
Zaylus shakes his head slowly, almost surprised that she would remember, and especially ask about the injured Oxaris. "That'd be pretty far against doctor's orders." He quips, his mood hard to decipher against the nonchalant comments delivered in classic deadpan. Upon considering the possible turnout seriously for the first time, he starts to doubt the interest of the other Redrock
crew in answering an invite from a member of the Jack considering the unpleasant circumstances of their meeting. Spirits, what's he doing here? "Where's the rest of your crew? They not keen on celebrating?" He asks, keeping that balloon of conversation aloft as the notion of this "celebration" starts to deteriorate.
It takes the bartender a few moments, having found herself briefly caught up in some discussion down near the other end of the bar. But eventually she makes her way back to Elena, mug of beer in one hand and a shotglass in the other, far too many patrons to consider to be worried about what she might be interrupting. The beer is a golden yellow- probably whatever local beer they've got on tap since Elena didn't specify- but the shot is a
dark red, almost brown, color. She holds it gingerly between her middle finger and thumb and reaches out to set it in front of Elena. "You said strong!" she says, as if delivering a warning. Her smile returns and she glances to Zaylus, seemingly realizing she hasn't yet served him. "What about you?" she asks with a nod his way. Some loud chatter at her back causes her to snap back towards the small crowd of people she's been conversing
with, eyes turning to the news coverage to ensure she hasn't missed anything. The same scrolling information and a repeated showing of an interview she's seen a few times by this point are on display, causing her to draw in a sigh and look back to Zaylus.
Elena lets out a quiet scoff, although it's low enough on energy that it's little more than a puff of air through her nose. "'course not. Ship's a fucking graveyard..." she says with a dismissive shrug. "But I'm not staying shut in there, wallowing in that shit." she mutters, glancing off-towards the news screen, mood souring pretty quickly, but she catches herself, and pushes it back, looking to Zaylus again. "We fucking won."
she says with a cybernetic thumb over her shoulder towards the screen and a tap on his arm. "Those assholes are dead! Gone. Not getting anyone else. That's worth some fucking, yeah?" The bartender arrives before Zaylus can respond, and Elena glances her way as she grabs her shot with a muttered 'Thank fuck...', downing it right away.
As warned, the shot goes down like paint thinner. Not much flavor, just a whole lot of burn. And afterburn. The sort you can feel in your nose as much as your gut. Who knows what kind of basement distillery it was made in. But, as promised, it packs a nice punch.
Elena 's face twiches as she puts the glass down, letting out a slightly choked sound as the burn spreads, and drawing in a long breath through her nose, focusing on the sensation. It's welcome. Burn away the memories. The fear. The grief. Drown it. She offers the bartender a sharp nod, an open-mouthed breath before speaking again. "Two more of those..." she says, voice hoarse and eyes watering, lifting two mechanical fingers
with the words. "...and beer, on me." she concludes, before realizing her mistake. "Mierda... turian. Dextro." she says quietly, glancing Zaylus way as the steel fingertips of her right hand brush against her forehead lightly. "What you having?"
Zaylus has a chance to ruminate on Elena's forcibly elevated spirits as her drinks arrive and she wastes no time dispensing them. His face betrays he's not motivated to uninhibited celebration as many of those around, a reservation to his relief that has gnawed at him since the news broke. And from the shifting mood on her face, it's clear his barmate is struggling with the same burden.
"Something strong." He replies to Elena first and then with a glance to the bartender, surmising he's repeating the unheard order from the human. If the order of the day is self delusion in favor of reckless optimism... fuck it, he's already here. "We fuckin' won, right? A strong drink for every dead fucking bug." He remarks as his stance visibly relaxes, cracking an eased
The bartender watches Elena as she downs her drink, a knowing smirk crossing her lips as it gets the expected result. When she orders a couple more, she gives a small raise of her brow in surprise. "Your funeral." she warns before looking back to Zaylus when Elena looks his way. His mention of victory spurs her to genuine- if maybe helped along by some drinking of her own- smile. It may have been humanity that took the brunt of the
Collectors' terror- a fact reflected by the turnout the bar has in celebration of their defeat- but she doesn't need to know just how personal this all is for Zaylus to enjoy a little comraderie in victory. "You're damn right we did." says the usually-unenthusiastic bartender, slapping a hand against the chipped and scarred counter in celebration before taking a step back to get those drinks.
The scarred mercenary a few stools down seems to hear Zaylus' exclamation, looking about for the source of it. His uneven gaze catches Zaylus and his brow furrows, an intense look on his face. "Whooooooooo!" he belts enthusiastically, lifting his drink to the turian and nearly falling off his stool in the process, thankfully one of his friends manages to catch him by the arm and keep him upright amidst joining in with a nearly bored 'Whoo'
Elena cracks a smile as Zaylus relaxes, nodding a couple of times as she licks the roof of her still-burning mouth. She grabs her beer and takes a swig to cool off as they wait for Zaylus' order and for her shot to be replenished. "Damn-fucking-right..." she agrees. The bartender's chiming in elicits another series of nods, and the loud 'Whoo'ing down the bar causes her smile to grow a bit more genuine. "No more creepy-ass,
Zaylus raises his brows at the enthusaistic 'Whooing', surprised and a little delighted to find it directed towards himself. Pain can only be soothed by time they say, but drowning in the acrid drink and sweeping optimistism of the bar crowd would still the grief for one night, without incurring the guilt and embarassment of getting wasted in a dark appartment. So he'll give in to the
tide, and ride it as long as he can. "No more bullshit experimenting, freaky fuckin bug swarms, killing and taking folks for no goddamn reason. This galaxy just got a little bit less shitty." He concurs, mirroring her sentiments and pushing hard against the counter. "Let them wallow if they want," pivoting with a vague implication on 'them', "I-I won't fucking do it anymore.
Elena nods yet again, sucking in her lips a little to lick them where the sting of whatever local drink she just had is still felt as her gaze wanders back to the screens. "That's the spirit..." she says with a snicker as her gaze falls back to Zaylus once he finishes, taking another sip from her beer as they wait for the drinks. "Any more of your people comin'?" she asks as she glances out across the bar.
The armored group is most certainly the loudest amongst the patrons. But they seem to be in good spirits, thankfully. Molly, the bartender, engages them with a familiarity that implies they're probably regulars as she goes about preparing Elena and Zaylus' drinks. The shots come from an unmarked jug. Definitely local. No label. Zaylus' drink comes from the tap, a pale blueish-grey liquid. There's a heated discussion at a nearby booth behind
Elena and Zaylus containing a pair of humans and a turian about Cerberus and their part in the destruction of the Collectors. It's hard to make much out amidst the rest of the spirited discussion all around, but it's pretty clear that the turian is none too happy.
Zaylus follows her gaze across the bar, humming low. "I don't know." He answers with dry laugh and a shrug. "Ox is the only one should be too laid up to come... Docs probably working. Oh, the boss is out. Both are actually..." He trails, searching his mind for prior commitments. "The rest? Ah, could be working, or... Shit." He laughs again. "You might've only hooked me. Sorry about
your party." His free hand briefly touching his fringe as his attention drifts to the nearby conversation, discretely listening to the snippets of information.
Elena lets out a snort of laughter as Zaylus lists off the Redrock personnel that's MIA. His final comments prompt a dismissive shrug. "Sure I can make do." she assures with a smirk, although it fades as she picks up on Zaylus' eavesdropping, eyebrows furrowing a little as she tracks where his attention is while sipping her beer, turning back towards the bar upon spotting the group. She lets him have a moment's silence as she
Conversations all bleed into one another in the small crowded bar. Cheerful talks of victory by people who have never even encountered the Collectors. Sure, there's a chance that some of their lives have been affected by the Collectors. Maybe even some of them have lost loved ones. But none of them experienced the same horrors that Zaylus and Elena endured. None of them experienced it up close. But still, they celebrate. The group at nearby
booth continue their argument. They trio seem to be friends, but alcohol and racially-motivated-galactic-terrorist-organizations can be a volatile mix. "They're a bunch of extremists who care about no one but themselves!" exclaims the turian. "Didn't see you assholes getting off your ass and helping!" the human drunkenly shouts back. The third person, also human, is that poor unfortunate soul who always seems to present in every drunken
argument that just isn't nearly as drunk as the other participants and just wants them to shut up. "Collectors are gone!" he says, having to shout to be heard overtop of their which prompts a distant, drunken, 'WHOOOOO!' from across the bar that goes ignored, "Who gives a shit how they're gone, right?"
Zaylus follows the heated discussion more closely, letting out a snicker at the lonely whoop. Though still stone cold sober the small crowded atmosphere makes him break a cardinal rule of drunken strangers: mind your own goddamn business. "Hell yeah!" He calls out in agreeance with the third speaker. "If those terrorists hate bugs more than they hate 'aliens', that's good enough for
The third party at the table nearly stands up from his seat to point at Zaylus as if to imply he's got the right idea. Just go with it and worry about the potential genocide later, right? "Right on, brother!" calls out the other human who then shoots a smug look towards the turian. The turian shoots a glare Zaylus' way as if he was just betrayed and begins to sulk into his drink. The bartender delivers the drinks, Zaylus' beer in one hand
and the two filled-to-the-brim shots that she expertly carries between three fingers on her other hand without losing a drop. She sets them on the counter in front of the pair before noticing something and furrows her brow and uses her thumbnail to quickly scrape at a bit of grime on the outside of the mug of dextro booze. Once satisfied that the glass is clean- at least as far as anyone can tell- she looks back to Zaylus. "The good stuff."
she says as she slides the drink across the counter to the turian before giving a small shrug, "Or so I hear."
Elena lets out a snort of laughter at the unexpected shout from Zaylus, which turns to coughing as she almost chokes on the last of her beer. "Whatever, man, I don't know shit about them..." she says with a chuckle as she puts her empty mug down, sliding it towards the bartender. "Gimme a refill?" she asks before turning back to Zaylus. "I'm just glad the Collectors are gone. Fucking weird though... never heard about those
Zaylus grins at the excited reception, offering a shallow shrug of apology to his slighted turian brother. He pulls his drink closer with a nod of thanks to the bartender, paying no mind to the less than sanitary presentation. "I'll take your word for it." He says, eyeing Elena as she chokes on her beer and eventually recovers to speech. "I didn't really know that much about em,
honestly. Just some human extremists still reeeaally bent out of shape about the first contact war or something." He takes a few heathy swigs from his drink, eager to catch up. "I mean, don't get me wrong," He adds quickly, holding his hand over his chest, "kind of our bad. But still. Pretty serious grudge. I'm just glad they're doing something we can all agree on for once."
As requested, Zaylus' drink has some zing to it. The kind of drink you order when you're not too concerned about how much of the evening you remember. The bartender nods to Elena and scoops the empty mug up without protest. She's certainly not in the business of convincing people to take it slow. Though she does gesture between the shots she set down. "Just take it easy with those." she says, seemingly having decided the human is the more
likely of the two to lose their head. Maybe an assumption backed up by experience. "You end up making an ass out of yourself and he-..." she nods towards the rather large, grumpy, krogan-shaped fixture by the door who looks like he would much rather be ripping the wings off of small helpless insects rather than babysitting a bunch of drunken humans, "...won't be too happy. And when he's not happy, nobody is happy." It's not a threat.
Just a friendly warning as her smile returns and she gets to refilling Elena's mug, not wanting to interrupt their discussion.
Elena raises her cybernetic hand, and eyebrows, in a 'no worries' gesture, before turning her attention back to Zaylus. "Can't argue with that." she says with a snicker, glancing off towards the booths to pick one out, really only waiting for her refill before heading off at this point. "Kept thinkin' the Alliance would step in, stomp 'em out..." Her mood dampens a little as her mind is inadvertently drawn to the marine that
Zaylus taps his talons along the glass in his grip. It was inevitable, that memory and the mood shift to come with it. He lifts the drink, recognizing the burn and its promised intensity but just needing the moments distraction to keep from saying the dead man's name aloud. Setting it down, now half full he ruminates out loud. "It could've been anybody, in the end. They were a credible
threat, especially to the human colonies. If not the Alliance, then the Heirarchy? The Matriarchs? Hell, all of them. Why it had to be some splinter group we might never know." He guesses, adding a little softer. "I just wish they'd done it a little sooner."
Elena shrugs a little, still a little drained of energy as her gaze wanders the bar. "Yeah..." she snorts quietly, head sagging a little as she turns her back towards the counter. "Y que lo digas..." she mutters with a sigh before glancing over her shoulder for the bartender, eager to get her hands on another beer.
The bartender returns- seemingly just in time- with Elena's beer, setting it down before her. "Here you are." she says, remaining only a moment longer out of obligation and passing a glance between the pair before starting back towards the group she was conversing with. It's certainly a step up in hospitality than usual from her. A fact the pair might already be aware of if they had paid her any mind during their previous visits. But the
slaying of a galactic boogieman seemingly hellbent on the abduction of your entire race tends to have a soothing effect on even the most coarse of people. The booze doesn't hurt either. "What'd I miss?" she asks, already craning her neck back to look up at the screen as she rejoins the others. "Shit. Just talking to that bitch ass Alliance mouthpiece again." Eddie responds, arms folded across his chest as he watches the footage intently
despite said 'bitch ass Alliance mouthpiece' trying his best to dodge questions. There's a few open booths tucked away. Mostly those out of earshot of the screens. The screens are mounted from the ceiling overtop the center, above the tiered pyramid-like structure of shelves behind the counter that's lined with bottles of booze which serves as the centerpiece of the bar. The screens face out in every direction so, while they might not be
Zaylus fiddles with the glass in his good hand, the rythmic scratching and tapping lost in the din of the crowd. When Elena gets her drink back he nods his head toward one of the nearby open booths. "You wanna sit?" He asks simply, the dip in mood not enough to send him home just yet.
Elena offers the bartender a nod as the voice makes her glance over her shoulder, grabbing the new mug in her right hand and the shot in her left before looking Zaylus' way. "Vámonos." she agrees with a nod, pushing off from the bar and heading off towards the nearest empty booth.
Zaylus leads the way, glancing back to Elena as she collects her drinks to follow. He drops himself into a vacant booth with a huff, managing not to spill the drink in his good hand. "So," he breathes, "What's next for your crew? You've already stayed on planet longer than I thought you would, to be honest." He muses a little absently, pulling at the loose strings on his sleeve.