Gren snorts. "One of the reasons I avoided this planet if I could. I'd likely die of old age before they can cut through the red tape." He itches the scar on his face, regarding Aylena coolly for a few moments. He leans forward, the chair making a squeak of relief for having a few moments free of the majority of his bulk. "You gonna head back Aite?"
#IlliumHospital – September 3, 2020
Aylena dips her head slightly. "I have nothing left here," she said. "I built a strong brand, but this mess will follow anything carrying my name on it like a shadow. I don't want the kind of customers that wouldn't do their due research beforehand." She lets out a small sigh. "I am also getting old, Gren," she says. "Even if I can wait for this to cool down, I won't have the energy I had centuries ago."
Gren grunts once, turning his head to the side to squint at the wall in thought. In truth, he knew little of Aylena's business beyond the pieces she told him. He didn't really keep up with the news either, correctly expecting for her to get in touch with him if things turned south. But he couldn't help but feel that even once the trial is complete, this business of hers would hardly end here. However, it wasn't his place
to say. Instead, the old Krogan harrumphs and looks back to her. "Fair enough. Going back to that shithole is probably the smarter move. Least you can keep mostly outta the way."
Aylena shifts a bit to sit more comfortably, or less uncomfortably as it were. "Exactly," she says. "The Miner's Respite is also more than breaking even, though there are a few risks keeping it from being a safe, long term investment." She pauses for a moment, closing her eyes. "That is, if my niece doesn't raze it to the ground before I can return."
Aylena lets out a small snort, though she lets a few seconds pass before she answers. "No," she says. "The angry one I spoke to at the spaceport."
Gren makes a noise of acknowledgement. "Ah, that makes much more sense." He smirks before, once more, he makes the chair suffer his bulk. "It's probably burnt to the ground. Either because of her or that company of amateurs have blown it up. What're they called again? Redrock?"
Aylena raises the brow over her uncovered eye. "I don't think that label is entirely justified," she says. The unanswered message from Jason is fresh in her mind as she continues. "Their professionality could use some improvement, yes, but their performance has exceeded what I paid for every time I've needed their services."
Gren gives her a doubtful look but doesn't seem to press the issue much further. He can't exactly be called the height of professionalism either. If he can't hit his way to a solution, he can usually shoot it. If he can't shoot it, he tears it apart with biotics. If he can't tear it apart, it's probably way above his paygrade. "So," he says, changing topic entirely. "You're stuck in here until you're able to walk. Then
Aylena nods. "That would be an optimistic estimate, yes," she says. "I will not be able to walk by the time I return to Aite, though. I will need to make another trip here in around half a year's time to get that corrected. It's prohibitively expensive to fast-track a non-criticial procedure like that."
Gren huffs. "Well shit. So you're going to be in one of them wheelchairs for a while, huh?" He shakes his head, a grim chuckle escaping him. "Well I ain't pushing you around. Just so you're aware."
Aylena has a tiny smile cross her lips. "Oh, well, I need to rethink my plans then," she says, her voice not making it very clear whether she is being sincere. "There are better tools for assisting motion than a wheelchair, though, but I cannot spend too many credits on something I won't need half a year from now."
Gren dips his head, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest. "Well, if ya need any help with it, lemme know. Not sure what I can do but I'll figure something out." Hit. Shoot. Biotics. Yup. He can figure something out that way. "But seriously, try and stay out of more trouble. I'm not sure whether you'll survive ANOTHER round with these guys."
Aylena looks down for a moment as she considers that. "Should the trial go my way, they will be locked up for a very long time," she says, "but if the last one slips away, against all odds, then..." She tilts her head slightly to look at him. "We'll have to take a more proactive approach."
Gren lets out another, much more hearty chuckle and his hand instinctively reaches around to tap the claymore holstered on his back. "Proactive is my specialty."
Aylena nods. "The easiest would be if she turns up before the trial," she says, and returns to looking straight ahead. "In the meantime, it is best if we stay out of NAPF's investigation."
Aylena raises a brow again, surprsied that Gren is not even that familiar with the world he has traveled to. "Nos Astra's police force," she says. "They don't compare to The Citadel's C-SEC, but they do keep something resembling peace around here."
Gren hums and nods. “Gotcha.” Seems he wasn’t kidding when he said he avoided this planet as much as possible. “Well, I wasn’t planning on attracting the local police if I could help it. So I’ll behave. ‘Less some idiot tries to have another pop at you. Then some things might get broken.” He pauses. “A lot of things.” Another pause. “Probably everything in sight.”
Aylena gives another smile, which appears as genuine as her limited range of motion can show. "I don't doubt that, Gren," she says. "Just... be careful with this equipment, lest your efforts would be for nothing." The asari is starting to sound more weary as the conversation progresses. "So, tell me, Gren, what happened to the varren you had with you when I first saw you at the Respite?" she asks, abruptily
Gren gives her a big toothy grin, although her weariness hasn’t slipped by him. However, he decides to humour her for a moment when she asks about his varren. So, he shrugs, props his arm against a single knee and says, “Ate him.” He lets the silence hang for a few moments before he laughs and shakes his head. “Naw, he’s fine. Left him with one of the few friends I have left. Didn’t want to drag the stupid
Aylena doesn't appear to be at all surprised by his first answer, nor shocked. Despite him having just insisted on being cooped up in this small hospital room for the next weeks or months, she does consider him to be more pragmatic than sentimental. "You saved yourself a lot of paperwork too," she says. "Who is this friend, if I may ask?"
Gren nods sagely. “He’s a batarian, operates out in the Terminus. He’s the guy I go to when I need...”. He pauses and spins his hand around in small circles, thinking on the right way to phrase this. “To acquire things.”