Zaylus arrived a short while ago, bypassing the offices and terminals to idle near the rec room. He hovers there now, dressed in his regular armor attire with the ommissions made for his slung arm. Seemingly restless, he wanders to the green felted table in the room, peaking a curious eye at it. Scooping up a red striped ball, he frowns, pausing before setting it down and rolling it
#RedrockAgency – March 18, 2020
against the nearby cluster with a satisfying clunk. With a spark of delight, he does it again, open handed pushing pool balls against eachother or into the pockets with seemingly no regard for rules, or the nearby pool cues. However engrossed, he ocassionally glances around, though with decreasing regularity.
Tarkus exited the training room and made his way to the rec room. He was dressed in his standard armor, the heating system giving him the most comfort during these winter months. Upon entering the rec room he saw a familiar younger turian standing at a table pushing the coloured balls on the table. "Greetings." Trying to remember the turian's name, he makes his way to the green table.
Zaylus looks up quickly from organizing the pool balls in a straight line. A bit caught off guard, he straightens up and gives a curt nod. "Oh. Hey." He too can't seem to recall the others name, if he had heard it at all, the circumstances of their first meeting leaving little room for small talk. Apparently unashamed, he decides to skip to the more pressing matter. "Do you know how
Tarkus looks at the table, he has no idea what you are meant to do with this table and the coloured balls. "I do not, I assume this a human game. So asking one of them might be the best bet to understand it." He looks back at the younger turian. "I'm Tarkus by the way."
Zaylus leans forward, humming softly as he contemplates Tarkus' answer. Ask a human? He could make a better game, he decides as he pushes another ball into the line. Catching his eye again, he nods briefly at the introduction. "Right. Tarkus." He repeats. "I'm Zaylus. Guess I didn't have a chance to catch your name the other night." He answers, either not correcting himself or forgetting
the weeks that passed since their encounter at the Respite. With a swift roll he sends the line down, clacking against each other until the final ball rolls lazily into a corner pocket, looking up with satisfaction. "I think I'm getting the hang of it." He smirks, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.
Tarkus watches Zaylus rolls the balls. "I feel like there has to be more to this game than just rolling a balls into a hole." He gives a shrug not, he has not seen this game or heard it mention at all before, so he is hoping the goal is not as simplistic as it seems so far.
Zaylus pauses, mandibles twitching as his new game doesn't receive the praise he hoped. "I'm still working out the details." He shrugs, using his good hand to quickly arrage the pool balls in a more impressive configuration. Scanning the room, he looks back up at Tarkus. "Are you waiting for someone?" He asks, a twinge of interest in his gaze. "I haven't seen anybody around." He adds
Tarkus shakes his head. "I just finished up in the training room. Not really here for any reason apart for that." Tarkus moves to one of the nearby chairs to take a seat. "What about you Zaylus, here to see anyone?"
Zaylus watches him as he goes to take a seat, eyes breaking off as he returns the question. "Nah. Not really." He dismisses, idly bouncing the green ball against the side of the table as he continues, "I was out at the marketplace, but spirits, there was too many people." He sniffs, shaking his head lightly. "Is there like a festival going on or something?" He posits questioningly.
Tarkus thinks for a moment. "I believe a human holiday is happening soon. So people are probably preparing for that." He studies the younger turian for a moment. "Don't see many younger turians as mercenaries, were you born within the Heirarchy or Terminus?" Asking wanting to know where Zaylus came from.
Zaylus blinks, giving Tarkus a distrustful glance as he straightens up. Swallowing it back, he leans his hand against the table. "Terminus." He answers, "The Shrike. And I've seen plenty of us." He adds, unsure if his numbers stack up but unwilling to hold back the bite. "You seem more like council space to me." He continues, his gaze not betraying whether the assumption is an insult
Tarkus gives a nod, he did not mind if Zaylus means it as an insult. "Born on Palaven, was with the military for a few years. Then became a mercenary on Omega for a time, long story short and here I am now." Not wanting to expand on the time starting as a merc and ending up on Aite, due to some of the pain in that time frame. "I guess you could say I have a lot of experience and
Zaylus sniffs, his burgeoning hostility quickly fading at the honest expression. "I'm sure you do." He replies knowingly. His hand flexes idly as he opens his mouth to speak, hesitating briefly. "Is that strange, for someone born on Palaven to end up out here? Or on Omega?" He asks, probing the older turians' honesty with intent curiousity.
Tarkus remains silent for a moment. "I guess it would be. I was injured during my military days, when I recovered I was not going to back to the main fighting force. So I left." He remains silent for a few more moments. "Fighting is one of the few things I am good at."
Zaylus contemplates for a moment, clearing his throat to insist, "Fighting is the only thing worth being good at." He comes a little closer and turns to lean against the table, regarding Tarkus through the corner of his eye. "The trouble is finding something worth fighting for." He murmurs, waiting to gauge his reaction, the gentle tapping of his talons betraying a slight discomfort.
Tarkus stands up and walks over to Zaylus. "There's some wisedom in your words, Zaylus." He pats Zaylus' shoulder. "The last thing I fought for... well, she is gone now. Guess due to that, the Spirits led me here to help a friend out." He remains silent again, contemptling his words. "I guess my reason for fighting right now, is to help Jason's group out here to become it's best."
Zaylus straightens up as Tarkus approaches, clenching his jaw as his hand raises to pat his shoulder. He doesn't break off though, struck by the emotional admission. "I'm sorry to hear that." He mumbles politely, forcing himself to relax as a thought bids him to question further. "So, you... you've known him for a while? Jason, I mean." He leans back gently against the table, looking
Tarkus gives a nod. "Yeah, met Jason, Vasquez and Ilyna on Omega. I think the bar we all gathered at was called Fortune's Den." A twitch of a mandible, a hint of the fond memories of the old times came back for a moment. "Anyway, that is enough of a break from my work. Have to go to the armory and do some maintenance on my weapons. Make sure there in good condition still." He gives
Zaylus blinks, a moment of surprise showing through before being returned to polite attentativeness. "Sure, of course." He says, turning back to the pool balls, seemingly planning on continuing his efforts there. "Yeah. Uh, you too. I'll see you around." He replies, returning a low nod, mandibles twitching thoughtfully.