AN-So I was wondering what the spacer equivalent of a sake bomb would be and came up with this just-for-fun minifill. Enjoy!

When James Vega entered Purgatory, at first glance it looked deserted. As he mounted the flight of stairs that led to the second level, however, he found a huge crowd gathered around one table in the middle of the room. He couldn't see who was in the center of all the commotion, but he could guess.

Shepard stood on unsteady legs across the table from Wrex, a graveyard of empty shot glasses between them. She was wearing a black tank top, jeans, and a half helmet like skate boarders used to wear that was strapped under her chin. Where she had found it was anyone's guess. He could see Garrus, Tali, and Mordin (of all the people he'd expected to see, the salarian had been near the end of the list) watching with enthusiasm, chagrin, and detached interest, respectively. James made his way over to them and asked no one in particular, "What's she up to now?"

"Krogan drinking contest," Mordin answered. "Traditional bonding ritual involving ryncol."

"Shepard's drinking ryncol?"

"It's her favorite," Garrus said with a roll of his eyes. "You'd think Wrex would remember that."

There was a cheer and James turned back to the action. Shepard and Wrex were facing each other with a full shot glass in one hand and the other on the other's shoulder.

"Ready?" she shouted. "One, two, three—"

"Bomb the pyjack!" they yelled. Wham! They bashed their heads together and threw back their shots, and Shepard slammed the empty glass on the table and staggered, grinning like a mad hatter. She was listing to port and looked about ready to fall down, and the old krogan didn't seem to be faring any better.

"How many rounds have they gone?" James asked.

"Twelve," said Tali. "I've got two hundred credits on Shepard."

"I'll take a piece of that action. Put me down for two-fifty on Wrex." Mordin snorted and covered a smile with the back of his hand. "What?"

"Nothing," he said.

Shepard motioned for another shot and the bartender brought two more, looking like he wanted to put a stop to this but not quite daring to face off with a woman who could head-butt a krogan and stay conscious. She raised the glass and the crowd cheered.

"Stop showin' off, Shep," Wrex slurred. "Get back to business."

"To business!" she shouted and drank, then looked confused at the empty glass. "Barkeep! I require more libations!"

"That one doesn't count. You're gonna looooose if you keep giving me freebies."

"Whatever." Fresh shot in hand, she put the other hand on Wrex's shoulder. "Do you yield?"

"You wish. One, two, three—"

"Bomb the pyjack!" Shepard reared back and bashed him in the head so hard her helmet cracked, and Wrex went down like a landslide, laughing all the way down. She threw her arms up in victory and ryncol sloshed out and dripped down her arm.

"Damn!" said James, and Mordin looked sideways at him.

"New guy, need to learn first rule of Normandy."

Garrus and Tali joined him when he said, "Never bet against the commander."