[For Auctus, on the other hand, this has become far too much of a habit. Drinking his evenings away, occasionally in Afterlife when he can make it in, usually in some cheap, dim place where nobody asks for names or cares to remember faces. It suits him better, anyway - less recognition and less noise, because in Afterlife and around people do recognise him. A local on Omega for about a dozen years, the other local mercenaries and lowlives have grown used to having an ex-major around, but while his bare face and bone-white carapace are a familiar sight around the bars and battlefields of this world by now, with his military background, not everybody trusts him. And offworlders, turians in particular who happen to come to Omega for varying reasons, usually recognise him by the same charming moniker that the locals have adopted for him: the Deserter.
Tonight is different, however, and he's fidgety. Can't really enjoy his drink in peace like he'd hoped, can't really do his usual routine of fighting away his day on some mercenary job, and drinking away regrets and memories at night.
The upcoming job is something else. He's known there was a storm coming for a while now. Archangel - a turian, and one hell of a problem. All of Omega in a stir because of some idealistic bastard who thinks he can change a thing. The mercenary bands are in chaos, each of them wanting to take down the crusader and his little gang before the others. Both for the reward, and for personal satisfaction. Almost everybody has a friend or family member he's lost to the guy's clean-up.
Auctus has no personal stake in this. Almost understands, he thinks, what is going on in the man's head. Used to be idealistic himself, although never to that degree. Never to the degree where he'd have died for principles. That mentality really never got into his head. And that's why he is where he is today. But the money is good, and he doesn't care either way. It'll probably be better for business to see Omega return to its normal pace when these guys are gone.
The younger turian a few seats down the bar catches his eye after a while, when the alcohol doesn't seem to do anything, and time doesn't seem to pass. Auctus watches him a while, eyes drawn by the tension more than anything.
Not unattractive, the kid. It's rare for him to have an interest in his own species, but it's late, he's lonely, the man's not half bad-looking. Might as well.
He scoops up his drink and walks down the line of the bar, stands next to the man for a moment before he takes a seat. Can't startle someone with that kind of look in his eyes.]
Friendly advice. If you're looking for trouble, this isn't the place.
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Tonight is different, however, and he's fidgety. Can't really enjoy his drink in peace like he'd hoped, can't really do his usual routine of fighting away his day on some mercenary job, and drinking away regrets and memories at night.
The upcoming job is something else. He's known there was a storm coming for a while now. Archangel - a turian, and one hell of a problem. All of Omega in a stir because of some idealistic bastard who thinks he can change a thing. The mercenary bands are in chaos, each of them wanting to take down the crusader and his little gang before the others. Both for the reward, and for personal satisfaction. Almost everybody has a friend or family member he's lost to the guy's clean-up.
Auctus has no personal stake in this. Almost understands, he thinks, what is going on in the man's head. Used to be idealistic himself, although never to that degree. Never to the degree where he'd have died for principles. That mentality really never got into his head. And that's why he is where he is today. But the money is good, and he doesn't care either way. It'll probably be better for business to see Omega return to its normal pace when these guys are gone.
The younger turian a few seats down the bar catches his eye after a while, when the alcohol doesn't seem to do anything, and time doesn't seem to pass. Auctus watches him a while, eyes drawn by the tension more than anything.
Not unattractive, the kid. It's rare for him to have an interest in his own species, but it's late, he's lonely, the man's not half bad-looking. Might as well.
He scoops up his drink and walks down the line of the bar, stands next to the man for a moment before he takes a seat. Can't startle someone with that kind of look in his eyes.]
Friendly advice. If you're looking for trouble, this isn't the place.
[He lifts his drink to his mouth and sniffs.]
Not worth it, either.