Mass Effect Fanworks – Page 17

[44]

BEGIN LOGGING AT 21/03/78 17:30:88

VERIFIED Y/N: Y (RETINA)

CONNECTED TO RSRVD_CHNL76_F

Saren has signed in.

[43]

Saren crossed Taetrus off the list with a sigh.

“It’s better that we found out sooner rather than later,” Nihlus said, echoing his own thoughts. “Almost there. I can feel it.”

No doubt about that. The keen edge to Nihlus’ gaze, the set of his mandibles, the way he rubbed his knuckles — he was feeling it, feelinghis way through this whole fiasco. Sometimes Saren worried about him.

[42]

“Nihlus.”

“Yeah.”

He rubbed his fringe, the back of his neck. Everything seemed more or less all right. Phew. Slowly, he picked himself up from the floor and started gathering the fallen sheets. There was a slight ringing in his ears as he rose.

“Think before you act.” Saren tossed him a bandage.

“I know.” Nihlus sighed, peeling away the adhesive. “Fuck it, that’s the last time I get sexual advice from a krogan.”

And the temperature in the little cabin dropped ten solid degrees from Saren’s glare.

[41]

“Agh!” Nihlus snarled when he knocked over the bottle of detergent for the third time. Good thing the lid managed to stay on. He’d almost slipped in a puddle of the stuff just minutes before, and had bruised his wrist on the edge of the counter trying to catch his balance. His uninjured wrist, too.

[40]

Sweat is dripping from his every pore; his plates are all lifted, straining against his one-size-too-small shirt. He wipes behind his fringe with a moist sleeve and it comes back with great wet patches. Damn it.

Shaking his head (and releasing a fine mist of sweat into the surrounding air, he can be sure), Nihlus refocuses on the console. Think, brain, think. There has to be a way around that encrypted key. He can almost see it, like an actual key dangling just out of reach outside a dirt cell. Except it’s too damn hot, and he can’t fucking remember. He rubs his jaw. Works a little tension out of his face, unknots a couple of muscles. Better. But not there yet.

[39]

“And third…” Nihlus says, his voice lowering an almost imperceptible degree at a time, “we’ll take a shower. Together.”

Saren narrows his eyes. This is getting preposterous. But Nihlus just smiles at him from across the narrow table. Brushes a leg against his. Saren scowls and pulls away.

“And last?”