#masseffectholidaycheer

Trips to Omega went one of two ways: Typical enough, or outright chaotic. Such was the way of life on the station—you either faked it until you made it, or you found yourself drowning. Then again… such was the way of life everywhere in the system, it seemed. No matter what sector you found yourself in, things were just rough; downright deplorable in some areas. Everyone shouldered the weight of the Reaper threat and the broiling interspecies conflict, but some made peace with that fact. The world around them was ending, why spend time wallowing in it all when you can just “keep on keeping”?

Such was the mindset of Rish, who took a deep breath as she’d opened shop. It hadn’t felt like hours passed since the irritant buzzing of her alarm pierced the peacefully silent air, yet here she was, watching the hustle and bustle pass her by as the day kicked off in full swing. It was routine: Open shop, wipe over the stall’s surfaces, start the cooktops and take quick inventory. Spices? Check. Meats? Check—well, she needed more fish after today, but there should be enough to make it through rush hour. Fruits and veg? Check and check. It was good. Life was… liveable. Not bad, not good. It just was; it was good enough for Rish, just like the stock. Just like the customers that came and went as the day dragged on. Some were jovial, some were not. The latter were often the disgruntled Omega rejects; those that couldn’t get past security or found themselves too drunk (and hungry) to continue waiting in the wraparound lines that began to form.

And Rish was more than pleased to redirect them, especially when more and more began to show up as the hours grew later.

“Aw come on,” the man on the other side of the counter drawled, “Just a li’l bite then ‘m on my way.”

A tired sigh, which allowed cigarette smoke to plume in the air between them. “Already told you where you can go to find that bite. It’s not gonna be here.” 

Her calloused hand came to rest on her hip, crimson eyes focused on the wannabe patron. He seemed agitated–just shy of flipping the switch–but that really wasn’t her problem. She had a business to run and the last thing she needed was this sort of attention. Right as he’d went to speak again, another patron raised their head from the table. Rish sighed.

“Look, you’re bothering my customers. Now get out before I give you a reason to.” A not-so thinly veiled threat, accompanied by the subtle shift of her posture. Her head nodded back toward the shotgun mounted on the wall.

It’s not just for display. 

With a slumped posture and bunch of senseless mumbling, the man stumbled his way out and onto the bustling pathway of the market sector. Rish sighed, stepping forward and idly wiping the table beside the roused patron. He was a regular, often dropping by as the evening came and keeping to himself. They’d conversed a few times–it’s hard not to when someone’s in almost every day–but more often than not he ordered his chow and simply took a few moments to rest. Took advantage of how peaceful this little corner of the station was. And she didn’t mind it; he’d never caused any trouble and the company was… nice. She’d carry this to her grave, but he was really her favorite of the recurring bunch.

“You doing alright?” She asked, watching as the krogan tilted his head this way and that to stretch thick neck muscles.

He nodded, glancing around blearily before speaking. His voice was quieter than most like him, but it was not weak. He still spoke with a sense of pride, he just didn’t need everyone in the vicinity to pick up on that carried authority. “How long have I been out?”

“Not long.” A few hours, but she could sense the guilt in his question. At least, she thought so. “Sorry that bastard woke you. You’re… welcome to put your head back down if you need it. Still got a bit ‘til closing.”

A subtle nod. A soft ‘thank you’. The measured lowering of his head as his arms came up to support him; shield his face from the neon lights and bring him that familiar darkness. Muscles twitched upon hearing someone approach the counter, but the weight of exhaustion was too much to stir him again… at least, until whatever patron that’d approached raised holy hell. But they didn’t, instead, the armored woman simply sat and waited whilst Rish sized her up. Then a flash of recognition struck.

“Well, if it isn’t the Commander.” A face she’d seen pass by; one she’d certainly seen plastered across news broadcasts and bounty boards alike. “This a formal visit?”

“No,” Jill shook her head. “Just lookin’ to grab a bite before heading out.” A rolling pause before she prattled out her order, and another before her conscience began to spew. “Not looking forward to heading back to the docking bay so quickly.”

Rish was turned, her back toward the counter as she’d begun prepping. “Why’s that?”

“Need some time to process things.” It was vague, but it was enough; the weight in her tone was undeniable. She’d either seen a ghost, or realized she was one; Rish knew it well.

“Fair enough. Guessin’ you can’t tell me any more about it?” A small smile. “No, not really. You know how the Council likes to keep things.”

“Under wraps and buried beneath the event horizon?” She peered over her shoulder, cigarette hanging loosely on her smirking lips.

Jillian laughed a bit. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well, sure it’s nothing a full stomach can’t fix. And if it is,” she turned and set the plate down. Simple sandwiches, but loaded with an in-house sauce mix and served with a delicious side of potato bites. “Then at least you’ll have a full stomach. Better than most folk can say.”

“Right… thanks.” Jill’s tone softened, subtle spark rising in her deep eyes as she slid forward the payment. Rish was, frankly, surprised she did; she hid it well enough, though. It was just that, usually, big shot military tended to skip the bill and claim heroism.

But not Shepard, it seemed.

Who was Rish to look a gift horse in the mouth, though? It was a gesture far more deserving of the simple nod she’d given whilst taking the credits, but that was all that was going to be said. For her sake, and for Jillian’s, as she seemed perfectly content with the blanket of silence that fell over them whilst the ambient nightlife crept around them.