Haena couldn't wait for her laborious, nine-hour shift to finish. Laurel not showing up made everything else hard for everyone, and she was taking on longer hours just to cover the human's ass. Haena was still young, and wondered why she was working in a restaurant like this. Just before the evening guests began arriving, she noticed a distinctive-looking turian lingering out the front. Takoln passed by her quickly, multitasking.

"It's that turian from the other night…." he muttered.

Ah yes, thought Haena, the turian general who got so ridiculously drunk…. she remembered hearing an interesting story about him being disgraced and his rank stripped because of his habit. As she stared over at him, he signalled her to come over to him. Craning her head round to look for sign for Sanders, she moved as soon as it was safe to do so.

"What is it?" she hissed. "My job is on the line if my boss sees me here talking to you."

"I assume I'm prohibited from this restaurant now?" the turian replied, his deep voice reverberating.

"No shit, you caused quite the stir," replied Haena, her eyebrows rising in surprise at his stuffy manner.

"Is… Laurel Westfahl here?" he said. "I've tried…. messaging her but she's not…" Haena gave him a strange look, crossing her arms.

"I didn't know you guys were familiar," she said, her mouth tugging upwards into a grin. He ignored her suggestive comment.

"She handed her notice in the other day, but phoned in sick. We have a two-week notice period so her ass still needs to be here. Hasn't been in for, like, six days or something? Why?"

"It's of no concern," he replied shortly. "Thank you." She watched the stiff turian walk off, a certain sadness in his now slumped gait.

A day later, Laurel returned, but she told them straight up that she'd booked a flight back to Earth in a couple of days time. Sanders was used to her somewhat fickle manner and had already recruited someone else by this time. Haena had read up on Marik the previous night and asked half a dozen people. She wasn't a 'soap-box' for nothing; she lived for this sort of gossip. When Laurel arrived, she wasted no time in letting the human know about Marik.

"Guess who was looking for you yesterday," she began, as Laurel tied an apron round her waist. She shook her bushy head, pretending not to look hopeful. Haena leaned against the door, a playful smirk on her face.

"That old turian, Marik. Said he messaged you, seemed concerned about you. He wasn't looking at you for nothing the other night." Laurel masked her expression of delight, trying to appear indifferent.

"He's no friend of mine," she replied. Haena moved closer to Laurel, trying to capture a glimpse of the human's face.

"You can't fool me, Laurel," she said. Laurel spun round, a blush on her neck.

"If you're implying what I think you're implying, then that's insane. We're two different species – it's just… no." Haena got even closer to Laurel, hemming her into a corner.

"Speaking from experience, they're good in bed. As long as you let him on top though, or even from behind - turians aren't made to lie down like us," Haena whispered, watching the look on her colleague's face. Patches of pink were littered all up the side of Laurel's neck.

"He might be a bit older than you, but he's good-looking - kind of rugged you know? For a turian anyway. And he seems like a real, respectable kind of gentleman… one of those unyielding military types." Laurel pointedly looked at her in the face.

"Not my type," she said in a hard voice. There was a slight silence between them before Haena continued.

"Did you know he was done for voluntary manslaughter a few years back now?" Laurel now stiffened considerably.

"What?" she said, trying to compose herself.

"Yeah, about three years ago now. Happened in a bar. Obviously he was drunk, but he ended up killing the victim, another turian. A younger soldier who obviously spiked that temper of his." Laurel's eyes were wide, staring at Haena with an open mouth.

"What… How did you…" she stumbled.

"He's a biotic, you know that?" Haena told Laurel, who didn't think it was possible for the human's mouth to drop further, but it did. "That's how he killed the victim. Threw him across the room and snapped his neck."

"Jesus," replied Laurel. "I didn't know turians could be biotic."

"Not many of them. They're not looked on favourably by most of their society. All I know is that those who can master their biotics well are in a different squadron entirely," said Haena, now losing her interest in this topic.

"What was his sentence? Did he go to prison?" Laurel whispered.

"Not sure of the exact details. He probably paid a huge fine but I know he did go to prison for a couple of years. Got out early 'cos of his connections and probably good behaviour. With turians I think they charged both the bartender and his superior at the time for not getting his 'habits' sorted out. Whether you've got an admirer in him or not, he sounds like a real charmer," said Haena tartly, now turning away from Laurel to start her work. Biting back a retort, Laurel was glad she'd handed her notice in already.

A certain kind of desperation propelled him towards the docking bay of the Citadel. There were several docking bays located on the enormous space station, but this particular dock was for civilian Earth-bound travellers.

"A human called Laurel Westfahl," he told the dock officer. "Has she passed through recently?" The officer, slightly intimidated by the look of Marik, didn't ask questions and immediately looked up the names listed for flight 6-17.

"Her flight to London was delayed due to a mechanical failure. She'll be in the waiting room-"

He was gone before the officer could finish their sentence. It didn't take him long to reach the room, where she was sat with a large suitcase. Her hand propped up her chin, with her elbow rested on her suitcase. He quickly glanced at the large screen to see that the flight had been delayed by a couple of hours, which made him breathe with relief. He wasn't quite sure why he was doing this, all this, for a human. It wasn't busy as it was late at night – often the later flights were cheaper, so the waiting room was mostly devoid of people. She didn't notice him until he came up quite close to her. She jumped in surprise, but didn't move to stand up.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, Laurel. I was… I was unforgivably rude," he told her quickly, his pulse rising. Her brow furrowed as she stared at him.

"You were a real bastard that night," she whispered, feeling intensely uncomfortable. "I don't know if I want to forgive you. Besides you haven't apologised yet." There was a tense silence between them for a few minutes. Today her hair was clipped back and she wore her usual casual attire of jeans, plaid shirt and sneakers. He briefly glanced over her to see two other humans asleep on the lounge chairs.

"I was worried…" he drifted off, embarrassed now he was admitting his feelings.

"What you said was true," she said. "I don't want to force this already complicated relationship as it is. It's obvious we can't get along." She turned away from him slightly, biting her lip in anxiety.

"You know you don't believe that," he spoke quietly. Her body was tense. Tell her you're sorry. Tell her. Tell her, you idiot.

"Spirits, Laurel… I'm sorry," Marik told her, unable to look at her in the eye the entire time he said it. He could feel her stare burning into him. He felt like he should've added 'for everything' but his pride couldn't take another hit at the moment. It was very easy to read human emotions, and he could clearly see she was shocked by his behaviour.

"But… my flight is due in two hours," she said, her wide eyes drinking him in. "I can't get a refund. I also moved out of my apartment. Someone's already moved in."

"I'm not asking you to stay…" he said. She smirked at him, then.

"I think you are. You seemed quite desperate to say all this to me." He couldn't fault her for that one.

"I've more money than I know what to do with," he admitted. "I can get you another flight."

They came to some silent understanding. He suggested they go to the bar, which made her look at him incredulously. He told her he wouldn't touch anything alcoholic, and he wondered how much she trusted him – probably not that much considering. They went to a fairly quietly looking bar which also appeared trustworthy and not full of dodgy customers. The lights were dim, lit only by a few amber lights and a neon sign behind the bar. There were a few turians and krogans, the bar manned by a turian. Marik ordered drinks for the both of them, although she probably wouldn't be able to tell that what he'd ordered for himself was actually alcoholic. He wanted to quell that uncomfortable silence. What am I doing here, why did I suggest this? Have I gone completely mad?

"Marik I appreciate your concern and your apology but… what you said was true. I haven't got over the past – any of the past."

"Neither have I," he told her. This greatly surprised her. "My problem is not physical. It fills the void, the emptiness. It's not the alcohol, Laurel, it's the effect it gives me. It makes things…. easier. In some ways you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. I could not, cannot, deal with my past." Her mouth nearly fell open in shock.

"Where'd you leave that dickhead from the other night?" she asked in amusement. His mandibles moved into a smirk as he gently laughed.

"You helped me home and I took out my embarrassment and anger on you. I am sincerely-" Laurel turned to him slightly more on her barstool.

"You say sorry one more time and I'll kick you out." She prodded his arm to prove her point, without even realising it. For a moment, as they locked stares, he seemed to lean forward a tiny fraction. The air felt stiff and charged with unexplained emotion and she dispelled it with her great, big mouth.

"You're a biotic," she stated, eyes sweeping over his face. His brow plates fell over his eyes in a frown, making her pale swiftly. He then chuckled at her, suddenly charmed by her boldness.

"Where'd you hear that?" he said, trying to dispel the brief annoyance inside him. He took a large swig on his drink. She turned her head, playing with her glass.

"My colleague, the asari Haena. The night you came in, she recognised you and decided to read up on the gossip."

"Probably not the truth, this gossip," he said, the flanging undertones in his voice beginning to show aggravation. He felt like he was going to drift.

"Look, let's talk about it some other time, Laurel. I don't want to start on the wrong foot again," he implored, trying to catch a glimpse of her face. Her bushy hair covered it, but he heard her sigh. He watched her fiddling for a moment, knowing that this was a tense habit of hers.

"My dad used to say that to mum all the time. There was never enough time for her," she began.

"Your father was in the military?" he asked, feigning surprise, when he'd known all along.

"You know that, Marik. He was pretty high up. That's why she eventually left him. He'd no love in his heart and treated her coldly for so long. I wondered what Emma, his second wife, ever saw in the poor bastard."

"You're not going to listen to your sister's wishes are you," he said to her.

"No. I wanted to see my other sister, Fern, and I'm sick of living in space. But my dad can go to hell. Are you turians always like that, always so stern?"

"No, but we're not like humans, Laurel," he said to her. Why did she always probe him like this? His stiff joints relaxed as he sipped his drink, eyes briefly closed at the taste. They hadn't talked for a whole fifteen minutes, both in each of their own worlds. She seemed to catch on.

"You're drinking," she said, barely keeping the disappointment out of her voice. He took another swig and eyed the bartender for another.

"That's what makes you so destructive, it's the drink, Marik. If you don't stop, you'll drink yourself to death-"

"This human bothering you?" said the turian bartender, giving Marik his drink.

"None-a-ya business," she said to him, not giving him a glance.

"It is lady, it's my bar," came the irritated reply.

"She's not bothering me," replied Marik, giving the bartender an unwavering stare. The turian shrugged and walked off, still displeased.

"Let's get out of here," he said to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her off the barstool. She barely had time to quickly snatch her suitcase and keep up with his long-legged gait.

"You're right," he said to her. "It's destructive. Let's… I don't know what to do… Eating and drinking are my only pastimes."

"You like vids?" she asked.

She felt a gentle nudge, which in her half-conscious state made her feel irritable, especially as the position she was in was so damn comfortable. Her feet were kicked up in front of her, the place was beautifully dark (unlike her old apartment – thanks to the neon glare of the ward) and she was leaning against something surprisingly soft and cushiony – although the smell was altogether familiar but alien. Thinking of this word, Laurel propelled herself upwards having realised she had fallen asleep on Marik's shoulder while watching a vid.

"It's fine. You didn't miss very much," Marik assured her, choosing to forget the fact that he'd enjoyed occasionally twirling a lock of her hair round one of his talons. He later made them both a late night decaf tea, as she relaxed against the counter.

"I knew you weren't comfortable among that crowd, at my restaurant," she said, breaking their companionable silence, handing him the steaming mug of tea.

"I'm not even sure why I decided it was a good idea to go…" he said, but it was clear he did not want to talk about it further. Why was it so hard to reach him? The low-lying light of his kitchen room cast unfamiliar shadows on his features. She'd been surprised earlier at his change of heart at the bar; she'd anticipated another argument.

"Were you ever married?" she blurted out. He laughed at her suddenly, caught off guard.

"Where did that come from?"

"I find myself wanting to know more about you, despite your… temper."

"Really?" he said, his voice low and suggestive, taking a long sip from the tea. "Well, never 'married'. It's not the same ceremony like you humans have. I've had a few partners in my lifetime, but being so involved in the military high-up was never kind to such things."

"Were all your partners turian?" she asked, the words popping out of her mouth before she could stop them. Jesus Christ, Laurel Westfahl.

"Yes… where're you going with this, Laurel?" he said, stepping closer to her, his voice humming with yearning. Automatically she was taking a step back, clutching her mug, shrugging her shoulders.

"I was just…" He was then walking her slowly backwards, until she felt the cool sheet of the metallic wall behind. Her body glowed with warmth and anticipation. She pressed the palms of her clammy hands to the cold wall, watching his movements like a hawk. As he moved closer, something in her fluttered and her breath caught. She suddenly felt like a teenager. His mandibles flared in amusement as he gently took both of their mugs and put them on the counter next to them. Taking her elbows gently, he drew her towards him, despite her instinctive hands coming up to push on his chest. His body was thick and warm as he pulled her up against him and lifted her onto the counter.

"What're you wondering?" he purred, suddenly nuzzling his face in the crook between her neck and shoulder.

"Just if you were still with Kyra," said to him, feeling his sharp teeth graze the soft skin on her neck. He was positioned in-between her legs, smoothing his large hands down her thighs and provoking a tremor from her.

"That depends," he said to her, still continuing his ministrations on her neck. It was difficult not to feel afraid yet she was so embarrassingly aroused by him. She saw the sharp plates of his cowl move as he nibbled her neck, his hand then moving upwards to bury in her coiled hair, tugging on it ever so slightly.

"On what?" she replied. His skin was browner in some places than others and she studied the tawny-coloured, rounded bumps that went down his neck, like a speckled pattern. He's an alien. You're a human. He hurt you. He's hurt you consistently. What are you doing with him? She could hear a voice that strangely sounded like Anise's in her head. He then sharply pulled on her hair, baring her neck to him. She couldn't complain; she felt her muscles clench in pleasure and her neck flush. Marik brought his face upwards.

"On whether you want sex with me…-"

"Marik!" she said, horrified and embarrassed. His talons let go of her hair quickly to look at her, brow plates raised in surprise.

"You don't seem to mind," he said, indicating her flushed neck and overall state.

"We're not the same-"

"Are all humans this prudish?" he said, slightly miffed.

"You're too…Well, I guess humans have a track record of being afraid of sex." He burst out laughing, his voice reverberating through her chest being so close to him.

"More importantly, are you prudish, Laurel?" he asked her, tightening his grip on her. She felt his warm breath on her mouth as he spoke.

"Well no, but…." There was something that moved in his face, which was inexplicable. He moved away from her suddenly, leaving her hollow.

"Laurel, I've become attracted to you. I've come to-…."

There was a stunned silence between them as she stared at him and he looked away, pained. Before she could reply, he turned away and disappeared. She continued to sit there, her arms curled around herself. She sat there long enough until the lights automatically went out, not detecting movement. She sat there until her buttocks hurt and her eyes felt heavy with sleep. She thought of wanting this and simultaneously not wanting it. She felt embarrassed and hungry at the same time. She knew she'd come to care for him… care in the loosest sense of the word, a doubtful, small voice told her.

You need a friend, another told her.