#shimari

They shake, looking around the room, not quite seeing what is there, but slowly becoming more aware, although not more awake. Their eyes fall to Drifter, who hasn’t moved from his spot on his side, watching the both of them, feeling as if he’s interrupting something intimate, something he shouldn’t be seeing, something someone like him shouldn’t be a part of. Their gaze moves from him, and he wonders if they know he’s even there.

“You’re safe, love, you’re safe,” Shimari’s voice is even despite her eyes nearly shutting, clearly fighting back sleep in order to calm her quivering partner. She pets at Nuani’s cheek, a thumb coming to flick away a tear that had leaked from beneath their lid.

“Delsin,” Nuani sighs, voice trembling “he’s down there, he’s down… Delsin is down…”

“No love, come away, come lay down with us.”

Drifter feels his heart skip slightly, not something he’s used to, not something he thought was possible. Us.

Nuani nods at this, shimmying down until they can lay, curling up, but not against Shimari. Drifter watches, struck frozen by the realization that they were coming to him, a hand seeking out Shimari’s and pulling her against their back, fingers intertwined as they pressed their face into his chest, the feeling of their warm breath against his skin making him shiver slightly. This has been the norm, him coming to rest here, him sleeping until dawn then leaving, them spending time on the Derelict when they wanted. So why was he so shocked by this closeness? Why did this feel so different? Shimari is well wrapped around Nuani, but he can see her, her glowing eyes, watching him from just behind Nuani. He takes a breath, before shaking the stiffness from his muscles, commanding them to move as he reaches over and lays an arm over Shimari, encasing Nuani between the two of them.

The only thing that could give Ikora away was the medallion around her neck, tucked neatly into the collar of her tunic as she swirled a glass of whiskey in front of her. Nuani on the other hand, had built such a rapport with the barkeep no one batted an eye when they came in.

“I want to know more about The Drifter,” Ikora’s voice was even, low, her eyes trained on the liquid as it moved.

Nuani schools their expression, something they were good at, but they weren’t stupid enough to think that they could fool Ikora completely.

“I’m sure he’d like to know more about you too,” they say dryly, testing the waters of the conversation, the remark receives a sly smile.

“I’m sure he would, but I feel like I am not his main concern right now.”

Nuani doesn’t want to seem too interested, they frown at their nearly empty glass before raising it into sight of the bartender, a young man with blond hair, who nods and pours them a new one before bringing it over.

“I wouldn’t know,” they continue when he is out of earshot again.

Ikora leans back at this, casually, but Nuani knows she’s surveying them, like a lioness sizing up her prey, if they weren’t careful they would be a nice snack to go with Ikora’s whiskey.

“Then how about I ask a question about you then. Do you think the Drifter is a good man?”

Nuani feels their heart clench, knows it’s accompanied by a slight flex of their jaw muscle, they’ve shown their cards, the only way they were getting out of this was by changing the game. Too bad they weren’t the dealer.

“I think he is doing what must be done, even if it isn’t right,” Nuani says, taking a sip of their newly refreshed drink.

“I’ll pretend you didn’t evade my question entirely,” there’s humor to Ikora’s voice which somehow makes Nuani even more nervous than before.

“I trust you, Nuani, and your team. And I trust that you know when to cut and run, all I ask, is that if you do, you tell me.”

Nuani stares down at their fingers on the edge of the glass, now wet with condensation. They can feel their heart beating against their ribcage, the images of the way Drifter looked when he was clearly reviewing something important, something from Joxer’s fireteam, something he hadn’t shown them. He looked like a hyena who had finally eaten after months with little food. He looked smug, satisfied. But as they dwelled on that image, another appeared, overtaking the first. The way he looked when they had emerged from a collapse on Mars a few weeks prior, screaming and crying, lost in the thralls of a flashback, his hands on their face, his eyes breaking through the haze. Then when they awoke from the nightmares, his voice rough with sleep as he and Shimari calmed them back into the pillows. Then when he had his fingers in their hair as they fell asleep while he reviewed Gambit matches. They force themself to drink, close their eyes, let the liquid burn their throat and behind their eyes.

“Drifter is not a threat,” they finally meet Ikora’s prying eyes, nearly glowing in the dim light of the fluorescence.

She frowns, there’s a knowing in her gaze as she takes them in again.

“Love is a powerful thing.”

Nuani can’t stop the shock from spreading across their face, dampening it down forcefully a moment later, but they know it’s too late.

“Loyalty too. I followed blindly once, and I won’t pretend that from time to time I wish I could still do so; it’s easier, than to face an ugly truth. But remember this, just because the wolf may sleep at your feet, doesn’t mean it doesn’t also have teeth, and doesn’t mean it won’t grow hungry again.”

Nuani keeps their gaze steady, sure their expression isn’t as placid as they are trying to make it. Ikora smiles, nods her head, before rising and dropping glimmer at the bar, enough for both of their drinks and then some. She sets a hand on the shoulder of a woman at the bar before leaving. The woman turns after a moment before moving to join Nuani at the table.

“What did she want?” Shimari asks, the Awoken’s outfit making it clear that just because she couldn’t stand out, didn’t mean she was about to dress down.

“Information,” Nuani says simply, knowing they can’t hide from her, they let their worry show.

“Drifter?” She asks.

Nuani nods in return.

“Do you think she is a threat to him?” The question isn’t alarmed or even concerned, it’s simply curious.

“No, not right now.”

“You’re not upset about her, are you,” it’s not a question.

Nuani slumps further into the booth, nursing the edge of their glass.

“What if I fall?” They say, voice small, uncharacteristically meek.

Shimari doesn’t answer right away, instead she takes their hand in her own, giving it a squeeze.