The high clear sound of the temple bells were the first things she heard in the morning and the last thing she heard at night, every day of every year. They summoned her from sleep in the dim morning, so she could bathe with cold water and rub cleansing oils into her skin before she knelt on the small woven mat before the altar for her morning prayers. Twice more, every morning, they signaled the times for devotion and she would find herself with her forehead pressed against the floor, her voice rising and falling in the ancient mantras, the various chants and recitations that marked a life of observance. They rang when it was time to eat the midday meal, and when they worked in the fields they told them when it was time to kneel among the long stalks of grain or the fruit trees and pray again, two more times throughout the afternoon. They rang at dusk, and again after it was dark to mark the official end of the day, and both times the entire settlement found its way to their knees. This was the way life worked, had always worked, as long as she remembered. There had never been any other way

Most days, after the midday meal, she would have joined her parents and two brothers in the fields. It was late spring and the planting was done, but there was still plenty of work to do. That day, the day that her childhood ended, however, she was being punished. She had started a fight at the small school near the spring where the main settlement sent their children to learn from Alliance teachers and where their village sent the children to gather fresh water. The children did not like her, or any of the members of the religious settlement, anymore than their parents did. They did not understand why these strange people rejected advanced farming equipment, power, computers and all the other things that made life what it was in this day and age. Did not understand why they lined the cattle tracks to pray for the animals being led to slaughter in the high meadows. Did not understand their ceaseless bells or strange songs or the incense and garlands of flowers they hung on their altars. With this profound lack of understanding came ire and disrespect, suspicion and hatred. It was not unexpected.

``But father, they vandalized the temple! I heard them talking about it!`` She protested as her father had lit the incense sticks on the altar in her room. A month ago someone had smeared the walls of their temple with bulls' blood. It had taken the guru six days of fasting and prayer to sanctify it, and the bells had been silent all that time.

``It does not matter.`` Her father replied sternly. ``In this house, we follow the way of ahimsa in all things, not only when it suits us. All things are a part of God, and thus all things are a part of each other. To do violence to one is to do violence to all. I thought you knew this. I am disappointed.``

Her heart sunk into her feet at his words and she looked down, ashamed of herself. Her father handed her a scroll, wrapped tight and tied with blue ribbon. She recognized it, as every single person she knew would. The Bhagavad Gita had been read to her since she slumbered in her mother's womb, dreaming of life. She knew every word.

``Read, meditate, pray.`` Her father said simply. ``When they day is over we will see what you have learned.``

Ever the dutiful daughter she obeyed, even when her legs went numb and sharp lines of white pain began climbing up her spine she stayed in position, her mind expanding in time with the swell of her deep breathing. She was so deep in the trance, in contemplation of the divine script, that at first she did not hear the screaming coming from the field. By the time she pulled herself to her feet, her legs feeling half liquid in places and stiff as rock in others it was very near. She went to the window and drew away the cotton curtain, peeking out onto the narrow street.

Batarian slavers were a risk that every colonist took, but seeing them made her legs give out, carried from under her in a wave of sudden terror. They were clustered at the far end of the street, watching as two of their fellows dragged the new mother, Parvati, from her home. She did not see the baby before she dropped out of sight, but the woman`s wailing and wordless shrieking made it unnecessary to actually see anything. She heard a bang, loud as thunder from the distant mountains and Parvati`s screaming suddenly stopped. She let out a low sound that was somewhere between a whine and a sob as she heard the front door of her own house swing open and bang against the wall.

She forced her legs to work, to carry her over to the closet and slip inside the small dark space. She closed the door and squeezed under the bureau. Another year and she wouldn`t have fit, less yoga and she would not have been able to wiggle the trapdoor free and fold her long legs and arms together well enough to fit in, pulling it closed after her. She had barely fixed the cover back in place, her breath loud and ragged in her ears, when the door to her room opened unseen.

``I told you, there`s no one in here.`` Voices unlike anything she had ever heard before, rough and soft, given sense by the translator chip installed in her left ear but still tasting alien. ``This is a waste of time. Farmers are in the fields, they always are.``

``Farmers don`t leave candles burning in their bedrooms while they`re in the fields.`` A second voice, a second pair of heavy boots dragging across the floor. ``Idiot.``

``Who said humans were smart?`` The first voice asked. There was a huge crash, the sound of breaking glass. They had flipped the bed over, she realized. They were looking for her. ``Especially their religious colonies. All of them, completely stupid. It`s a wonder they managed the wheel.``

She began to pray silently as they opened the closet door. She could hear them tear down the clothes, pull out boxes and pull the bureau face down. They seemed to be enjoying the destruction more than anything. They laughed quietly, joking in voices too low for her to make out. She continued praying, her mind gibbering a loose conglomeration of hopes and recitations. They were breaking things, the bureau, the bed; she heard them upend the altar and her soul burned as though physically struck. Finally, they went quiet, and for a moment she thought they might have left, that it could really have been that easy.

``What have we here?`` The first alien laughed, and then sunlight was spilling into her dark hole, and she looked up to see four cruel eyes glaring down at her, full of darkness and dread. She opened her mouth to scream but he hit her, strangling the sound in her throat. Grabbing a handful of her hair he dragged her out and she screamed then, a thick guttural sound clogged by her rapidly swelling lips. He hit her again and something snapped, her face exploding in white pain. Her mouth filled with blood as the alien tossed her down on the floor among chips of wood and glass. The candles had gone out when they flipped the altar; pools of white wax littered the floor like tears. ``Thought you could hide did you?``

Sobbing she gripped her nose, where the pain seemed the most vicious, blinding in its intensity. She curled up on the floor as he kicked her, his booted toe seeking out her ribs, once, twice and again. Something broke inside her. Only the hand of his companion stopped him.

``Don`t kill it.`` He chided.

``Why the hell not? We came to get males for the mines, not these soft, weak little things.`` As they spoke, she spat blood and began to pray again, out loud now since nothing would save her.

``Boss said we could make use of them before we killed them, though.`` The first alien was saying. She was not listening, not really. Her mind was filled with light, the bright intensity of pain, the red haze of panic. As her prayers grew louder, clearer, both receded behind clarity and purpose.

``You`re disgusting.`` The second alien was saying. ``Not only is it a human, but it`s a child. You can`t really want to-`` He glanced back at her as she folded her legs under herself, arms crossed over her burning ribs. She could feel the jagged break under her fingers, but ignored it, her prayers growing louder. ``What`s it saying? My translator isn`t synched for this dialect.``

She glared up at them, her rage two sparks of light in her deep, almost black, eyes. She had never felt this fire before, which raged in her core, wanting to lash out and break these two invaders to pieces. Anger had never been necessary, never had any place in the calm serenity of prayer and meditation. Even when she`d fought the boys who desecrated their temple, she had not felt like this. She spat blood again, her brain flooded with the sharp metallic taste of it. ``I am invoking the Destroyer upon you. Lord Shiva and his wife Kalima will descend on you if you try to hurt me. Hurt me and you only hurt yourselves. Kill me and you kill yourself.``

Her only response was laughter that touched the hard centre of her faith and made it tremble in her chest. Fearlessly the alien that had hit her kicked the statue of Shiva that had fallen off the altar against the wall. One of his arms broke off and the alien stomped over to it, crushing it beneath his heavy boots. She remained silent, stony, staring at him as he desecrated everything she believed in. After he had broken the statue into pieces he spat on it and wiped his mouth, grinning.

``I don`t think we have anything to worry about from the Lord Shiva.`` He laughed. Turning, he headed to the door. ``Use it if you want then. But be quick, I`m not waiting around for you. That shouldn`t be difficult for you.``

The other alien rounded on her as his companion left, the blow he unleashed across her partially destroyed face making the world swim in and out of focus, seas of white agony flooding her vision. He threw her down on the shattered remains of the bed, broken pieces of wood jabbing into her at every angle. She could hear his tense, quick breathing as he rummaged with his clothes, uttering a soft curse and she could feel something dark and terrible growing within her, threatening to escape. When he touched her, pulling roughly at her arm to turn her over onto her back she screamed, feeling that darkness lunge forward. Blue fire flared all around her, from her eyes and mouth and hands as she lunged at him.

The half naked would-be rapist had about three seconds to contemplate his impending doom before a ball of pure biotic energy smashed directly into his groin, tearing away a huge chunk of flesh and shattering bone with a wet popping sound. He howled, stumbling back as she wrenched the pistol at his hip from its holster. She had never held a gun, it hung in her small hands like an anvil. She raised it as the first alien died, gasping and vomiting blood over the wood floor. As his companion burst through the door she shot him three times and dropped the gun, her hands burning from the discharge of heat.

Three bullets proved to be enough. The second alien was blown back through the door and there was no sound from the other room. She sank down at the floor, cradling her blistered hands in her lap. The skin across her knuckles and the back of her hand had split from the heat, and blood began to ooze slowly out of the cracks to stain the whiteness of her skirt. The fire ebbed, fading away to lay dormant as it had for her entire life. On the commune biotics were accepted only if they never revealed their powers to anyone. The implants had been only to afford her the control it took to never use the strange powers prenatal exposure to element zero granted. Such power inevitably led to unnatural bloodshed, a violation of the most basic tenants of ahimsa. Looking down at the man she had just killed with them she began to laugh in high, hysterical bursts that pierced the stinking air of the small house. She could hear gunshots outside, each stuttering explosion of noise a herald of her imminent demise. She couldn`t fight all of them.

She was still laughing when the Alliance soldiers found her. It was their gunshots she had heard through the broken window, as they attempted to save the captured settlers. The man who appeared at the doorway, stepping over the corpse of the alien she had shot, was a faceless monstrosity of polished armour, even the glass of his helmet tinted. There was nothing human in him, and she faced him with the same hopeless surrender she would a Batarian.

``You`re safe now.`` He said finally, advancing further into the room. His eyes flickered to the other corpse, but he said nothing, just knelt down in front of her.

``I`m Commander Anderson. I`m here to take you away.`` He took his helmet off and she was greeted by a surprisingly human face, set with deep brown eyes that looked at her with boundless pity. She shook her head, not sure what to say. What it was possible to say to such news.

``Where`s my family?`` She asked.

``They`re dead.`` He answered flatly.

``How do you know?`` She asked, her voice growing high, childlike with denial. She stood up, pitching violently from side to side as her legs threatened to collapse under her. He moved to follow her but she planted her swollen, bleeding hands on his shoulders and pushed him. Her biotics, restrained so perfectly for so long, flared to life again, wrapping her in a shroud of blazing blue light. The soldier stumbled, halfway between crouching and standing and fell backwards in surprise. ``How do you KNOW?``

``Everyone is dead.`` He replied, staring up at her without fear, without pity now either. She turned away, her fists clenching through the agony of her burns. ``Everyone but you. We need to go.``

For a moment she looked as though she might speak, but in the end she merely turned away, the rage and biotics melting off of her as quickly as they had come. She shut her eyes and nodded, her long black hair hanging over her face. He picked her up, she was only thirteen after all, and carried her from the house like that.

She closed her eyes, so she wouldn`t see the bodies in the streets, the familiar faces twisted into masks of death, and a sudden and consuming exhaustion overcame her. As the rock of the soldiers steady gate and the silence, the absolute and complete silence overtook her and carried her to sleep she sighed and looked up toward the temple on the hill and saw the plumes of smoke and the barren, twisted black skeleton of its supports. There were no bells. There never would be again.

Commander Shepard opened her eyes and sat up suddenly in her bed in the Normandy`s captain's cabin. She could hear a distant melody in the back of her mind, sharp and clear, crystalline. Like bells. She sighed, running her fingers through the short, tight curls of her blond hair. Her hand came away greasy and still smelling like whiskey. She made a face, bile rising in the back of her throat as she realized exactly how hung-over she really way.

She supposed she deserved it. Both the hangover and all the drinking she had done in order to accomplish it. While the Normandy was docked at the Citadel for the astounding body and system repairs required to get it running a full capacity again there was nothing much to do but celebrate being alive after spending so long convinced they would be dead by now. She had held off on most of the partying that the crew, or at least certain members of it, were enjoying. She had been saying goodbye to Samara, then monitoring the repairs until the mechanics told her to fuck off and let them work, and then she had the mundane details of being alive to re-establish. She had died. Life insurance had been claimed, her will had been read and carried out to some extent thought most of it was still clogged up in legal bullshit and all her personal possessions had been shipped to one place or another. Bailey`s magic button had gotten the paperwork out of the way but now that it seemed she might be around a bit longer there were a lot of details to go into.

Last night, even those had run out and Donnely had dragged her out to the Dark Star Lounge to a proper celebration. She had gone only slightly grudgingly. It was not that she did not want to spend time with the crew. It was just that she had never been very good at being a normal human being. She was in her element on the battlefield, giving orders and pursuing goals with relentless force and determination. Trying to make small talk over dinner was something much more difficult and nerve wracking then blowing a mech`s head off.

That explained the drinking. She moaned as she pulled herself out of bed, wincing at the stink clinging to her skin. Apparently she had been smoking last night too, or at least licking ashtrays. She made her way to the bathroom and leaned over the sink, examining herself in the mirror. As always, it took her a little while to get used to the sight.

The broken nose was the only thing she really recognized anymore. Before she had died, her skin had been beginning to sag, crow's feet collecting in the corners of her eyes, laugh and frown lines where appropriate. The Lazarus Project had apparently decided that a face lift was in order, because now her face looked like it had before Torfan, smooth, unblemished and a deep, dusty golden brown in colour. Her large, dark eyes had once been brown, but they were now under lit by cybernetics and appeared more orange in some light, and black most of the rest of the time. Leaning back she lifted up her shirt and cocked her head to the side. Lazarus had also decided a boob job was in order, though she could not complain about being thirty four with a fresh rack free of sag or stretch marks it still felt odd to look at her own body. Letting her shirt drop again, she traced the thin lines which were all that remained of the thick network of scars that had once dominated her face, then the hook of her nose that had been deformed by that break all those years ago.

That dream... She sighed, and turned toward the shower, attempting to put it out of her mind. Mindoir was lifetimes ago. Eons. She had not thought of it in years, had not dreamed of it since longer still. As she stripped off the black tank top and underwear she had worn to bed she could not stop her mind from wandering backwards, touching long buried memories of the houses between the hills on that distant world.

After showering she tried in vain to scrub the taste of ass out of her mouth, and failing, did an hour and a half of yoga before her hunger drove her down. At least the increased circulation and exercise had put some colour back in her face and eased the pitch of her stomach. As she dressed in simple black pants and a black, form-fitted black shirt she thought about the draped sari and wide-legged work pants of her childhood. As she waited for the elevator outside her quarters she thought about riding horses down to the spring to draw water in wooden pails. That world seemed like something out of a history book to her now, not a moment from her own life. She tapped at her omnitool to see what damage last nights bender had done to her bank account and winced slightly. She must have covered the entire bars tab. Then again, it was surprising what dying did to your financial state. She could still afford a whole manner of ridiculous things if she had a mind to. She glanced up as the elevator bespoke its arrival with a soft ding, a new addition which was already annoying her. She would have to tell Donnely to get rid of it.

``Rupert! Do you have anything greasy and delicious that will purge the monstrous hangover I`m feeling ?`` She asked as she arrived in the mess hall. The cheerful sergeant looked up and pursed his lips like he always did when she arrived in his kitchen.

``I don`t know what I can do for a vegetarian. Sit down and we`ll see.`` He seemed to take her refusal to eat meat as some sort of personal attack on his cooking but Shepard did not bother to explain it to him. Truth be told, she had just never eaten meat. It was forbidden in her village on Mindoir, and she had never seen the point in picking it up as a habit.

She frowned slightly. There she was, thinking of Mindoir again. This was beginning to bother her, in a vague sort of way. She had long ago moved past what happened there, in face of greater needs demanding her attention. There was no reason for her thoughts or dreams to linger there.

``What`s a vegetarian?`` Garrus asked, appearing suddenly from the long hall that led down to the main battery. Shepard smiled as he took a seat across from her, picking at something stuck between her teeth from last night.

``It means she`s a salad-munching hippy.`` Rupert called from the kitchen as he began banging pans around. Her lifted a lid to stir something and a cloud of fragrant steam escaped, spreading itself along the cieling and curling slowly into the vents. Shepard grinned at the turian`s confused expression.

``It means I don`t eat meat.`` She explained. ``Human`s are omnivorous by nature, but we can get all our necessary nutrition from plants.``

``Says you.`` The cook quipped.

``Oh.`` Garrus looked between the two of them for a moment and then cocked his head to the side. It was an expression she recognized, the one he always used when he did not quite understand something about humans, or any other race really. Then again, turian teeth were sharp and pointed, ideal for tearing meat but not so much for nibbling leaves. She doubted salads were very present in their diet. ``Why wouldn`t you eat meat? It`s delicious.``

``So I keep hearing.`` She replied, going to retrieve a drink from the fridge. She barely noticed when she dodged those kind of questions anymore. It just seemed normal.

``You don`t eat meat?`` Jacob`s voice, blurry with its own aftermath of a hangover, materialized along with the man. He fixed bloodshot eyes on his Commander as she poked a straw into a tetra pack of pineapple juice. Everyone kept thanking her for upgrading the ration quality on the ship, but it had not been a selfless act. She did not enjoy the tasteless yet functional hard tack anymore than they did.

``No! I have never in my life taken a bite of anything that once knew fear.`` Shepard replied, raising both hands above her head.

``Really?`` Miranda`s voice chimed from the direction of her office. Despite being just as drunk as anyone else last night, she appeared flawless as ever, already perfectly dressed with her hair done and her subtle makeup applied. Shepard felt slouchey and plain next to her, but that was nothing special. ``Anything that once knew fear? Are you one of THOSE kind of vegetarians?``

``No. Not really. I just... don`t eat meat. It`s a long and boring story, but I grew up not eating it. There didn`t seem to be any point to starting.`` Shepard crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her inquisition that continued to stare right back at her, as though amused to see her put on the spot. ``What`s the deal anyway? Why so interested in my dining habits?``

``I don`t know. You never told me you were a vegetarian.`` Miranda replied. She looked curious, even. Shepard shook her head, shrugging again and sucking the last drops of juice from the pack with a burst of lusty slurping.

``You never asked.`` She replied.

``The point of eating meat is bacon.`` Jacob interrupted helpfully. ``Especially on mornings like these. Though you don`t seem to be feeling the two bottles of whiskey you put away last night the way I thought you would. You can drink your face off Commander.``

``I`m nothing special, Jacob. You`re just a lightweight.`` She quipped back. She glanced over her shoulder as Rupert thrust a steaming plate in her direction.

``Monteray jack omelette with fresh mango salsa. Does that work for you, princess?`` He asked gruffly. She might have thought that Rupert was really bothered by her steadfast denial to try even a little bite of his various meat-filled masterpiece meals, if not for the fact he always complained about her with a huge grin on his face. She accepted the plate with an eager nod.

``Forget Zakera Café. You`re the best Rupe.`` She took the plate and headed in the direction of the Starboard Observatory.

``Too good to eat breakfast with us, Commander?`` Jacob called after her.

``I`m just worried what the next topic of investigation is going to be if I stick around.`` She called over her shoulder, as she vanished around the huge metal column that housed the elevator. ``Enjoy your dead flesh!``

``With pleasure!`` Jacob called back after her, his voice just barely reaching her as she strolled past crew quarters, the fragrant steam of her heaping omelette making her stomach rumble. She paused in front of the life support room, chewing on a hunk of mango from the salsa and wondering if it was too early to pay Thane a visit.

It was odd, she supposed, how much time she spent in there as compared to with the rest of the crew. Not that she did not talk and visit with everyone, but with Thane it was different. He did not expect anything from her, not even conversation if she was not feeling up to it. Their friendship was comforting to her, when she could just go and sit with him, read a little or share music or anything that did not require her to come up with endless topics for short, meaningless conversations. He seemed genuinely glad to have her there, genuinely happy with their odd companionship. She still hesitated, not wanting to wake him if he was still sleeping but doubting he was.

``Do you always stand out here this long?`` The familiar voice with its cool undertones of amusement startled her and she jumped, almost losing her grip on her breakfast. She turned to see him emerging from the men`s room, looking just as immaculate and composed as ever. She grinned sheepishly and shook her head.

``I wasn`t sure if you were awake.`` She replied, sucking the salsa sticking to her thumb off. Rupert had really outdone himself, the entire dish seemed to exude a fine aura of deliciousness.

``I was not drinking last night, and therefore did not feel the need to sleep until the early afternoon.`` Thane replied, the lightest echo of teasing in his voice. He glanced down at her breakfast, one of his scaled brow ridges rising. ``That smells amazing. If Rupert is making that for breakfast I may have to go indulge despite my lack of liquid justification.``

``He made it special. Everyone else seems to be getting toast and bacon for breakfast. But since you`re awake, we could share.`` She lifted one foot and kicked the holographic pad to allow them access to the life support room.

``I didn`t know being Commander entitled you to special meals. But I am grateful you decided to share your blessings.`` Thane replied, following her in as she made her way to the small table that looked over the drive core.

``I don`t- it doesn`t-`` She tried to protest, before catching the edge of his grin. It had taken her a long time to realize how much Thane teased her, and how much he enjoyed it when she did not realize that was what he was doing. Drell facial expression was apparently, not as animated as human. ``I don`t eat meat. So sometimes, Rupert does me a favour and tweaks his meals to make them a bit more green.``

``I didn`t know you were a vegetarian.`` Thane replied, sounding mildly surprised by the revelation.

``Yes, yes, news of the century. I think I just had this conversation.`` Shepard replied, shovelling the first forkful of egg and cheese into her mouth and chewing with relish.

``So am I.`` He replied, accepting the fork when she offered it to him. Apparently germs were not something they hesitated to share. Then again, in the past few months they had shared much more than that, what with family history and suicide missions and pledges to defeat the Reapers side by side. Cooties were no big deal when those kind of promises had been made. It was her turn to look surprised.

``Most Drell are. It is difficult to raise any sort of livestock on Kahje.`` He tried the omelette and smiled immediately, bobbing his head up and down in a small nod. ``And the Hanar see it as somewhat cannibalistic to eat sea creatures, so they were already vegetarians when we got there.`` He handed her back the utensil and they ate quietly for a while, the comfortable silence more engrossing then conversation in between mouthfuls.

``Do you miss Kahje?`` She asked suddenly, that stubborn melody in the back of her mind enduring even now. ``Even though...`` She trailed off, not sure exactly how to address the illness that was suffocating him in his own body.

``Even though it killed me?`` Thane asked. She nodded slightly, hoping she had not strayed outside the boundaries of their friendship. He was silent for a moment as though in deep thought and then a sudden stillness came over his face before he began speaking, quick and soft as though from far away.

``It has been hot all day, and so humid. Condensation gathers on the glass windows through the streets. There is a blush of rose and crimson on the horizon, the first cooling breezes of dusk. It whips away some of the hanging moisture, making it easier to breathe. There is laughter from somewhere unseen overhead, soft music of an undestinguishable nature floating even higher, thinned by the wind. Everything is calm. All around the sea breathes, sighing in the gathering darkness.`` He fell silent again, blinking as he resurfaced from the vivid memory. Shepard was silent, examining the image he had painted in her head.

``It sounds beautiful.`` She said finally. He nodded, staring down at his hands folded on the table in front of him, tracing the small scales covering his knuckles.

``I do miss it. Even though.`` He said finally. ``Why do you ask?``

``I don`t know.`` Shepard lied. She did not know why she was so loathe to discuss her past with anyone, especially these people who had shared so much with her. It seemed pointless in the end. She had nothing to say about it. She really and truly was, completely over it. ``It was just a thought. I should go though, I have to go tell my see my lawyer about not being dead anymore, again. And probably do a metric fuck ton of paper work, again. Are you going to see Kolyat?``

He nodded, his expression brightening slightly. ``I am. He wants to show me some of the work he`s been doing at C-Sec.`` He looked up at her. ``I don`t think I ever told you just how grateful I am that you talked Captain Bailey into this. I... I don`t think I really can. Thank you, Shepard.``

``You don`t need to thank me.`` She replied. ``I did it for him more than you.``

``That is precisely why I must.`` She paused a moment and then smiled, standing up and collecting their dirty dishes. As she headed for the door out of the small room he called over his shoulder, in a voice slightly unsure. ``Perhaps, if you manage to finish that metric fuck ton of paper work we could have dinner together on the Citadel. I want to try more of your style of food.``

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder. Thane was staring out the window, like he always did, and there was no change to his regular posture. She shrugged, realized he could not see it and then nodded before realizing that he could not see that either.

``Sure. I`ve heard some good things about some of the restaurants there. Have you ever had indian food?`` She could not understand why this felt so odd. It was not like they were making a date. Friends had dinner with friends all the time. And though she did not deny, to herself at least, that she had been having more and more of those kind of thoughts as time went on and no word came from Kaidan, she really wasn`t looking to date.

``If one of the dishes Rupert has prepared in the past month has been indian, then yes. Otherwise, no.`` He sounded almost relieved. Almost. She could not really tell, drell being damnably hard to read at the best of times.

``Alright, I know where we can go then. I`ll send you directions when I`m done with the legal bullshit.``

``Looking forward to it.`` Thane replied. She paused a moment more, feeling like she should say something else before she turned on her heel and left the room, the back of her neck strangely hot. As she made he way out onto the hallway she ran into Donnely, who was looking worse for wear after the bender last night.

``Ahoy, commander. How`s your mornin` been?`` He asked, cradling his forehead in one hand as though the sound of his own voice caused physical pain. It probably did.

``Getting better all the time, Donnely. You`ve got vomit on your shirt you know. Just there.`` She pointed it out to him and then headed on her way, feeling her usual clarity of purpose restored, chasing the sound of bells from the back of her memory.