Almost no one was in the bar, the music was about quiet, the quasar machines turned off. It was probably about 1 o'clock in the morning, so it was no big surprise. However, the crew of the Normandy II had just got back from patrol, and they began to funnel into the bar. Among them were Crystal and Curtis.

The two sat at a table on the second floor, enjoying a drink together. The other 30 people didnt bother them, Curtis thought of them as family, and that what family did.

"So do you have family?" Curtis asked her.

"Its just me and my brother now days, the last message i got from him said he was on Olympia for awhile. You?" She replied.

"Just me, my mom and dad are dead, and i dont have siblings." He told her.

"So, how does someone so young like you get control of one of most advanced warships?" Crystal asked.

"Im good at what i do, for most of the time i preformed well at New Dawn, I got orders to help the contractor and i never got another till after the seige. How does someone like you get to N7?" he shot back.

"Same here, im good at what I do" She said with a smile.

The two talked for a little bit, the club was more boring than usual. This was expected, seing as the only patrons were those they had spent the last 2 years with. Crystal was becoming bored, she wanted to do something exciting while she had the chance.

"Wanna ditch the crew and got to Choras Den? I know the owner, id love to see her agian" She asked

"Of course, lets go before someone needs me" he replied.

{{ Continued in New and Old Faces }}

Leo XV walked into the flux, Phon following behind him. Over the two years Leo hadnt changed much, but Phon had, not just in pubety. She now wore a Green robe, and the lower half of her face had been replaced by a mouth gaurd and mechandrites.

Usually they wouldnt arrive at this late at night, but Leo had somethings to discuss with his protege "Phon, I understand you have great respect for me, but I have noticed that you've been argueing with the rest of the crew" Leo said "Its not helthy for morale"

"Im sorry commander, I cant help it" Phon replied.

"None the less, try and reduce the amount" Leo said, as the two sat down at the bar "Two colas please" he said to the rebel Geth barman.

"Coming right up" the barman said.

EDIT: Leo XV and Phon finished there drinks, got up and started to leave "Were do we go next?" Phon asked.

"Markets, I hear theres something anti Geth going down" Leo said

"Then you want me to talk to them right"

"Yes"

(continued in markets)

Walking into Flux, Marcus knew he probably should have went to Chora's instead. But he wasn't drinking to forget. He was here to remind himself why he signed up for duty and what his mates had made the ultimate sacrifice for. Flux was full of life and people enjoying themselves. That was what they fought for.

He sat at the bar and the volus bartender showed up.

"What can I get you, Earth clan?"

"Can you make me an Explosive Motor?" Marcus asked.

"I'm sorry, Earth clan," the volus replied. "Flux isn't a mechanic shop. Try somewhere else, thanks."

Marcus laughed and explained what he meant. The drink was a special mix that the engineers of the 398th Armoured Division had brewed up using whatever they had from the kitchens and the workshop. It had quite the kick at the end and became a staple of shore leave for the 398th.

"Hmm... an interesting challenge, Earth clan. But I believe I am up to it. I might even add it to the drinks menu. People will want to see you drink this."

"No problem." Marcus replied and waited as the Volus gathered the ingredients.

A small audience had gathered round the bar to watch the "Explosive Motor" being made. The recipe itself was actually moonshine but it had been adapted before to work with bar drinks. The bartender finally added the final lemon slice to the drink and served it up on the counter.

"Here you go, Earth clan. I'll alert the medical centre just in case."

"No need," Marcus replied. "This isn't the first time for me." He picked up the glass and raised it to the nearby audience.

"To the memory of the men and women of the 398th." he toasted and tipped the drink back draining the glass. The liquid flowed down his throat smoothly leaving a sweet burning sensation over his throat.

"Is that it?" someone heckled from the back.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it, mate." Marcus shot back. "Bartender, order a round of the Motor for the people here, my treat." He turned back to the crowd.

"Alright, which of you lot is game enough to have a go?"

((Continued in Chora's Den))

"You're not even drunk yet, I'll take a shot." the heckler from before challenged."

"Step up, mate. Step up."

Soon half the bar was having the drink. Marcus smirked at the bravado. They wouldn't know what hit them when it really kicked in.

Meghan entered Flux in a relatively good mood.

Her period of shore leave had lasted longer than she'd thought. Obviously the tech problems on board the SSV Stirling hadn't been fixed yet. This is my first lucky break in quite some time. I wonder how long it'll last?

True, it would have been better if the Stirling had broken down somewhere a little quieter. And I should probably be helping out with said tech problems. I'm not too bad with an omni-tool, after all. Still, she felt she hadn't even grazed the surface of the sightseeing possibilities on the Citadel yet. No way was she going back to the ship until she'd seen everything.

She ordered a drink and sat down at an empty table, watching the world go by in perfect contentment.

((OOC: Anyone up to making friends with a randomer? :lol: ))

Mathew walked into the flux. It was late so it wasn't as packed as usual. He walked up to the bar. "How may I help you, Earth clan?" Matthew took a seat. "Gimme something strong." The bartender thought for a second and replied "How about our new drink the Explosive Motor? Our other patrons belive it is strong." Matthew thought for a second. "Sure I'll try one." He watched as the bartender mixed it up. When he finished, Matt threw a few credits his way. He chugged it down fast. He felt a delightful burning sensation in his throat. He grinned. "Not bad."

Meghan watched with amusement. "Wait a few moments," she advised the man drinking the Explosive Motor. "If you're still standing up in... oh... ten seconds, that's when you realise whether you can hold your drink or not."

It'd be interesting if he manages to stay upright. Meg looked him over with an experienced eye. She wasn't partial to drinks as alcoholic as the Explosive Motor, but she'd seen enough soldiers suffering from its after-effects to judge who could stand it.

Hmm... nice armour. Colossus IX, or maybe X. Meghan didn't really pay attention to the latest armours. That probably means he's used to drink, if he's a military man...

She sat back in the seat. I'll buy myself an upgrade for my rifle if he keeps it down, she promised herself with a smile.

The soldier didn't reply to her comment. Meghan assumed that he was either working to fight the alcohol via an obscure meditation technique, was just rude or had already passed out but somehow remained standing.

She sighed and stood up.

Maybe I'll go and get that upgrade anyway, she mused to herself, leaving for the Markets.

((Since it looks like all the player characters are absent from Flux, I hope it’s alright if I just assume it’s about 10 PM by the time my character enters. Feel free to tell me if I’m doing it wrong.))

Corporal Alisha Khan entered Flux with four of her squadmates. The group stepped up to the bar, bringing with them an atmosphere of light-headed exuberance. Chatting idly and laughing, it was clear they’d already had a few drinks, though not a lot. It took a couple of seconds before they noticed the volus bartender trying to get their attention.

“Earth clan,” he started, “what can I interest you in?”
Khan gave a quick look to her fellow soldiers, and each of them ordered. The bartender nodded and started serving the beverages. Once all the marines had received their drinks, their conversation started again. Private Harris, an easily recognizable, dark-skinned man almost the size of a turian, spoke first.
“Better make the most of our last night on leave, people.” He took a swig of his drink.
“To you, making the most of the night means getting liquored out of your mind and passing out down in Chora’s Den after five minutes of staring at some asari dancer’s ass,” Khan off-handedly remarked. Harris simply nodded in agreement. “And that’s what I’m gonna do,” he asserted.
“We’re not even really on leave, Harris,” another marine, nicknamed Sock (for an episode too embarrassing to recite) pointed out, “we’re just grounded here while the ship’s getting fixed.”

Harris, despite his intimidating size, was the one man everyone in the squad liked. Whenever there was any kind of internal dispute, he’d be the one to patch things up. Mentally, he wasn’t much different from your average young soldier, but there was something charismatic about his nurture that just made him inherently likeable, and thus, he was indispensable to the camaraderie in his platoon.

A rather meaningless, but highly entertaining, conversation stirred within the little group, and after a couple of bouts of drinks, the five marines were the noisiest patrons in Flux. They quickly quieted down, though, when a pale, one-legged young man with unkempt, ash blonde hair entered, wielding his crutches sombrely. He sat down by a lone table, almost lowering the overall level of cheerfulness in the area around him.
“Isn’t- isn’t that Reece?” Sock asked. Reece was a marine who had served with the rest of them in the civil war, until a sniper gave him a shot to the knee that severed his lower leg from the rest of his body. He had left the military, and was still waiting for a prosthetic leg last time they heard from him.
“Think so,” another marine confirmed. They all looked at him for a while. He didn’t notice them, simply looking down at his drink after a waitress supplied him. Harris stood up.
“He looks pretty bad, I’m gonna go talk to him.” No-one objected, and Harris was over by Reece’s table in seconds. After the rest of the group looked over at the two men talking for a couple of minutes before Harris signaled to them “I got this.”

They checked up on Harris and Reece a couple of times, but they were assured that it was best if it was just the two of them talking, and that Harris would tell them about it in the morning. After an hour or so, the two left discreetly, leaving the rest of the group to enjoy themselves.
Time passed on and the marines started drawing attention to themselves in the form of other patrons joining their conversation, and soon they were, metaphorically at least, the life of the party.

After what was probably several hours staring out the view in the Wards, Terren suddly turned his head, taking a deep breath. He took a few steps, still wearing his Serrice Council manufactured Phantom armour, and on either hip he carried simply two pistols.
After a short walk up a few sets of stairs, Terren arrived at the club known to nearly everyone as "Flux". Several men in his squad however, tended to call it "the usual place". Nonetheless, Terren moved in and idly moved towards the bar, subtly sneaking his way through four Alliance marines and quietly ordering a drink. He didn't bother to move from the bar, and sat quietly letting the music reverberate his ear drums, the chatter around him seeming to do little more than be deafened by the music. Nonetheless, he enjoyed his drink, and occasionally eyed around the room watching for anyone of interest.

Corporal Khan, being fairly intoxicated at this point, decided to greet the newly arrived turian. Approaching him relatively discreetly, she momentarily left the chaos her fellow marines were quickly becoming the center of. They were organising some sort of absurdly self-destructive drinking game, disregarding the fact that none of them were really entirely sure about the rules of it. Their exact knowledge of how it was played could be summarised by Sock’s final estimate of the rules: “There’s, uh, liquor involved and then some… uh, does someone have a shoe they don’t need…?”

Though Khan could very well have had a primal desire to lend Sock her shoes at that moment, she didn’t notice his request, as she wasn’t paying attention to him, instead admiring the turian’s armour. “Hey,” she began vaguely, “Phantom?” Upon realising that the word ‘Phantom’ may not have been the most descriptive summary of what she meant to ask, she clarified, “I mean, is that Phantom you’re wearing?” Before the turian had a chance to answer, however, she carried on talking. “That’s some luxury you’re wearing… I mean, the stuff we marines get ain’t half bad, but it ain’t Phantom either, that’s for sure.”

Not really sure where she was going with the conversation, or why she’d started talking to the turian in the first place, Khan did would any reasonable human being would do; she took another swig of her drink and hoped for the best. Mentally, she apologised to the good people at Hahne-Kedar for insulting the quality of their craftsmanship, which had saved her hide more than a couple of times.

Terren, mid-drink, turned at the abrupted explosion.
"Phantom?" a female voice rang out, "I mean, is that Phantom you're wearing?" she asked.
Terren turned his weight, shifting to his elbow, alieviating one arm, and leaning against the bar. "Indeed. Serrice Council - series ten, i might add," the Turian eyed the woman carefully. "You know your gear, whats that? Aldrin labs? Onyx series?"
He took another drink, and let his hawkish green eyes settle onto the Corporal's.

Nodding slowly in approval, Khan echoed the turian: ”Series ten, how about that.” Upon hearing the turian’s accurate guess as to her own gear, she enthusiastically answered “Sure is. Not series ten, though. Series three. But it’s alright, really, I mean, as long as you don’t get shot in the knee. By a sniper.” Despite knowing that the turian couldn’t possibly have any knowledge about Reece’s unfortunate injury, she guessed he had a clue where she was coming from.

“Where’d you get that?” she asked him in an attempt to carry on the conversation, maybe wishfully hoping that it was easily acquired. During the course of the conversation, she was also wary not to stop drinking. She had to report for duty at 10:30 in the morning, so she reckoned she had more than enough time to deal with any hangover, or at least learn to live with it.

He smiled, a purr-like noise escaping his still soldier-like composure, "15 years of service in the Turian military, 3 wars, 42 tours of duty, seven injuries, and one painful P.O.W. stint. Nearly all of the money earned during that went into getting this armour. Doesn't come cheap - not by a long shot," he spoke softly. He spoke with more conviction, "Besides, isn't the Phantom line a Turian fit? Wouldn't do a well-figured human like yourself any justice..." he offered, returning to his drink for a moment in order to get another swig down.

”Sounds expensive,” she replied. Having hoped more for an answer in the lines of ’lottery’, she shrugged and let the subject go. Having unnoticeably ordered a refill from the volus, she was halfway through a swig of some unpronounceable quarian beverage when the turian’s oddly-timed compliment hit her, and as a result, she almost choked. This, she quickly discovered, was probably one of the least pleasant aspects of the night, since the liquid felt like a mildly corrosive acid.

After regaining focus from the near-death experience, she thought briefly about what had actually been said. ‘Well-formed’ was probably a new one, and the truth of it was probably debatable. She was generally not famed for her stunning good looks. She decided to shrug it off as turian ignorance of how exactly humans are supposed to look.
“Thanks,” she said, “but you’re not my type. And I think they're making a human version, but I'm probably wrong."

He smiled once more, placing his drink down gently, putting forth his claw-like hand. "Terren Moursun," he offered his name. "Ex-4th Tier Soldier of the Turian Military 38th Battalion. Current who knows what," he said with a smile.

"What brings you to the Citadel anyway?" he asked politely.

Khan extended her own hand and shook Terren’s, keeping her own drink secure in her other hand. “Corporal Khan of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps, 209th Regiment, 2nd Battalion, 1st Company, 2nd Platoon, 4th Squad, 3rd Fireteam,” she introduced herself, adding, “Yeah, we have to memorise that. Just in case an officer wants to know exactly who we are.”
“I’m not really doing anything here-“ she was interrupted by incoherent hooting from her squadmates, “Obviously. We were on a trip all the way to Argos Rho when we took an meteoroid to the wing because of our dumbass pilot not doing his job properly.”

She took a look over her shoulder at her friends, who were obviously downing drinks a bit faster than herself. Though they had initially tossed their borrowed shoe into the air and then following an obscure, ancient process to find out who had to drink once it landed, they had now resorted to flinging it at each other and drinking, in no apparent order or pattern. She quickly looked back at the turian, afraid the soldiers could possibly convey a completely wrong message to the outside world, and assured him: “We’re not like this when we’re on duty. If we were, you guys would’ve blown up Earth within minutes.”

He chuckled, "Time off is time off. What we all do when we're not on duty is literally our own business. And besides, you should see some Turians behind closed doors," he offered. "However, i don't understand the purpose of the shoe at this point... By the looks of it its become more of a tag for the next person to drink." He trailed off, sipping on his drink, watching Khan's squadmates.

Using his right hand, he gently adjusted his armour, his two pistols rocking back in motion with his suit. He took a moment to look around the bar, watching for any signs of anything, trouble, beauty, innocence, curiosity, malice - everything that his eyes could take in. As his eyes travelled around, he craned his neck noting a bit of trouble at the top of the stairs, just to the left near a quasar machine. A human man, and what appeared to be one of the Asari dancers hired to the club seemed to be having a heated argument of some kind. He looked around quickly, eyeing for the Bouncer who was busy chatting up some barely-legal colonist probably dragged here by her parents who had snuck out. By the time Terren looked up again, the human man had raised his hand, and brought it forward, slapping the Asari.

In a matter of milliseconds, Terren had placed his drink down, his heart rate nearly doubled, and he had begun moving to the stairs. As he took his third step he raised his leg up, firmly planting it on a stool, his next step the bar counter, the next on the railing of the stairs. Given the awkward incline, it took him a moment to regather his balance to get up the stairs again. By now, the human had backhanded the Asari, and was coming in for another forehand.

Terren took two giant four or five stair leaps and grabbed the human by his wrist, twisting it forcefully down and around behind him. "Do not bring violence unto others unless in war, my friend," he sneered in the man's ear while he held him in a one-handed arm lock. He straightened up as the Bouncers ran up the stairs. "Violence in a bar, sirs - I'd appreciate it if you removed him from these premises," he asked.
The bouncers, amazed by the display of militant skill simply nodded. Terren curtly returned the nod and idly walked down the stairs, settling into the bar next to Alisha once more. He looked to the Volus tender and asked politely, "May i have another drink, sir?"
The Volus, nodding, said, "Of course sir. And for your assistance, it'll be on the house."
"A pleasure to assist, my friend," he spoke softly as he took the drink and turned back to Alisha.

"So... About that shoe?"

Khan sat through the demonstration in close-quarters combat with a look that was half amazement and half approval. She gave the turian a few polite claps as he approached to take a seat, and looked on in amusement when the bartender changed within a hearbeat from being humbly thankful towards Terren to going stressfully to work with serving the inebriated marines and the crowd they were attracting.
“So… about that shoe?” The turian returned to their original topic.
“Uh, I’m not entirely sure, I mean, it could be a tag thing, but they drink before and after throwing it, too. And they don’t seem to be trying to avoid it, either.” She decided to leave the enigmatic nature of the shoe-tossing game behind, more eager to discuss the episode that had just transpired.

“Looks like you know how to handle yourself. You learn that in the military, or is it just a personal hobby of yours?” Though it was hardly an actual question, there was a degree of curiosity involved, since Khan was pretty sure close combat training would be unnecessary when turians were pretty much able to take down anyone in a straight fistfight, except possibly a krogan. Then again, she had yet to see a krogan whose arm you could twist behind its back before being crushed like a grape yourself.

She took a quick look over at the bouncers; they were still struggling to get the bastard ushered out of the place. She couldn’t help but chuckle as he yelled at one of them, only to be slapped pretty much in the same fashion he’d slapped the asari.

"Military training. Not so much special forces, but i opted for a few additional training courses. Alot to do with disarming and disabling. Alot of physical training - Not the best at it by far, but I haven't been killed in any fights or battles yet, so i must have paid some attention," he smiled, sipping on his free drink.

"So how long are you on the Citadel for? Until the ship gets repaired, or..?" he trailed off, leaving the question open.

”We’re stuck here ’till tomorrow. Ship should be fixed by then,” Khan explained. She briefly directed her attention to Sock, who was the one of the marines standing closest to her. “Everyone knows when and where to report in tomorrow, right?” she asked him. The response was unexpected; Sock didn’t mind what he was actually being asked, but decided that now was the time to give Khan a compliment she wouldn’t soon forget:
“Khan, you… you know what we all like about you? You got balls , and that’s hard to come by these days…” With that, he turned around, leaving Khan to slowly turn away from her fellow soldier and redirecting her attention to Terren.
“Sorry about that, you were saying?”

He chuckled at the half-drunk marine - "I wonder where in Alliance protocol the female officers need testicles in order to earn respect. I've had the pleasure of working with several humans, but i've never quite understood the concept of having balls, other than the obvious reproductive requirements for the rejuvenation of life." He shrugs with a sigh, and again looks around the bar, this time staring out the window onto the purple-blue haze which seems to fill the wards of the Citadel - making it seem more like a flower of spring, full of life, hope and purpose.

Deep in transient thought, Terren asked quietly, "Have you ever wondered what this place would be like if the power got shut off?"

Khan chuckled, and considered for a second informing him how terribly, terribly off the mark he was about the testicular metaphor, but decided to leave it. His question regarding the power, though, interested her. She thought for a moment. The music would be gone, the light would be gone; it would be impossible to serve a large percentage of the drinks the bar offered. There’d be no business, nothing would happen, everything stopped.

Now that the the conversation had taken an interesting turn, Corporal Khan decided she’d say something profound; or at least, as profound as it could get in her rather inebriated state. “It’d die,” she simply said.

"Lights are off and everyone's home - a twist on one of your human sayings. Think about it. We'd see a whole new aspect of the Widow System," he quickly shrugged off the thought.

"Forgive me, i have a tendency to look deeper into things than one need do. I try and embrace the world as it is, and make do with what i have, and help where i can," he smiled and growled softly as his drink burned down his throat mildly.

He looked around the bar - it was starting to get over crowded, he turned back to his human friend. "My friend, i feel it might be time for me to leave. Perhaps i'll see you around again," he fumbled with a compact OSD a moment. "Here are my contact details should you need anything. Work-related or otherwise," he nodded placing the OSD on the counter near Alisha.

"A pleasure meeting you Corporal." He gave a curt nod, and moved towards the exit, having to shove several patrons aside, one falling squarely into the table, but amusingly tried to hide his level of inebriation - which was quite obvious to everyone. Terren turned a moment as he careened around teh corner slowly, tossing a gentle smile back to Alisha as he disappeared around the corner, tapping down the stairs idly.

((Continued in Markets))

Khan received the OSD confusedly, and the fact that she barely remembered the turian’s name made this ending to their encounter even odder. “Thanks… I guess,” she said to him. “A pleasure to meet you, Corporal,” he said before leaving, to which Khan gave a polite “likewise.” The Corporal decided that now was probably a good time to go get some sleep as well, all things considered. She turned to her fellow soldiers.
“Alright, men, time to pack up!” This led to loud protests from the marines, including such diverse and original chants as “Who put you in charge?”
“I’m Corporal. It may not be much, but it still makes me the highest ranking officer here, so suck it. We’re leaving; we gotta get ready for tomorrow.” No-one seemed to notice that this was a moot point due to the fact that none of them were there in a military capacity.

While people were getting ready to stand up, Khan looked at the OSD she’d been given. Deciding that personal information was probably simply handed out more easily in turian custom, she secured it and began to round up the men. The soldiers made a brave effort, but in the end it was obvious it would take a long time before they’d figured out a system that would allow them to take five steps without planting their faces in the ground. Khan sighed.
It’ll be time to report in by the time we’re out the door.

James Flannery sat at table on the upper level of Flux. He adjusted his jacket.
What's taking him so long? he thought to himself.

He eyed the crowd, looking for his "contact." He was to meet with salarian merchant who was interested in his services. The salarian was apparently looking for someone to guard his interests on a private cargo vessel.

Flannery looked around again. He noticed that two krogan mercs were now standing by the door.

Wonder who they're here for?