✦♖✦

   There is a thought as the blonde stays hidden in the confines of her own sweater, that when she emerged again the medical books would have disappeared and in their place would be a cocktail--with one of those little umbrellas. And while the fantasy is still ripe in her mind--she'd be in Hawaii instead of this cafe. A deep and very tired sigh sounds...if only it were that easy.     She blinks underneath the dark fabric. Someone heard and is witnessing this pathetic display...fantastic. Slowly slender arms uncurl from her around her head and she moves out from the black garment. Her hair, messed and probably a little staticy, sticks up in places--overall very much adding, on the outside, to her disheveled state of mind.      " Preferably pungent and cost effective. " the reply is uttered flatly and the woman tries her damndest to keep a straight face before ultimately failing. A smile then curls the end of her lips and a soft chuckle rumbles through her. Plucking the pen off the table her attention soon, yet reluctantly, to her work.  " --Sorry you had to see that. " she chuckles again, though he doesn't look up from the book on the table.

[Keep looking like that and it’ll stick that way.]

What? I’m bored.

    Think of how much you are going to miss all this free time once your baby is born...

[ PLAYING CATCH-UP ] - closed -

" I’d love for my next occupation to be a little less flashy—if I can help it. Perhaps I’ll double as bounty hunter hmm? Steal all your bounties before you can get to them. ” He watched her carefully—or as carefully as a tipsy drell can—to make sure she didn’t choke on her drink. An enormous “eat shit” grin played on his lips and he let out a laugh. “Rookie, I don’t think you can even hold your liquor, let alone a bounty,” he mused, patting her on the back. His palm curved around her slender shoulder—perhaps for a moment too long. He let’s out a deep sigh before plopping back against his seat again. The battered and bruised drell snatched his cup again, taking a large swig. His throat moved as he gulped, the sound loud and obvious. He was beginning to lose the ability to decipher something being too loud or too rude—that, or he just didn’t care anymore. “Wouldn’t we all like something less flashy?” he grumbled, his dark, sea-green eyelids falling heavy over his golden stare. He shifts in his chair, his sight a little fuzzy and a little dizzy. “It’d certainly draw less attention, you know?” the large blue drell hiccuped, leaning about in his seat. He let out an inebriated laugh—he was at least drunk by this point. Faust poked a finger at the top of her sternum. “Hey,” he managed to say, “you threatening me my bounties?” A playful snarl hit his lips, something outside of his stubborn and withdrawn nature as of recently. He itched for a moment at one of the dried gashes on his arm beneath his sleeve. The bounty hunter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you and everyone else—hey, can I get another?” he slurred at G’nesh. The batarian glanced at him for a long while before grabbing his cup and refilling it. The care for his customer was now long gone after Faust’s last drink, and this was blatant in the last look he gave Rhea, followed by a low, short grunt. The intoxicated alien moved his head to look at his companion, pointing a thumb at G’nesh none-too-slyly, to his ignorance. "What’s his problem?"

She’s not around much. [He states with no emotion to his voice or in his scarred and bloody face, though it was less injured thanks to Rhea’s careful and gentle touch. He owes her, more times than he can count on his fingers.] I don’t know what has her so.. i’unno— gone all the time. And just because I don’t know.. um, Russian or whatever doesn’t mean I can’t tell you’re not talking smack.