First entrance

[pattersongs]

What a day, what a day, what an absolutely glorious day. Finally something to do! Retirement does not sit well with the salarian temperament at all, especially not after a lifetime of busy-busy-busy. It's been months since the last meeting of the project crews. Months. That's long enough to go positively insane from idleness. Good thing there's so

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[rogueseraph]

The self-monologue gets one Turian's attention. He recognizes that voice. It belongs to a certain Salarian doctor on Omega who was OK with treating a few members of the Turian's team when the damage was worse than medigel and teeth-gritting could handle.

He has been calibrating his rifle, which he collapses and holsters on his back. He takes another gulp of his drink.

"Hey Doc," he rumbles from a shadowy table nearby, "factor me into your analysis, will you?"

[pattersongs]

!

Mordin swings around on one foot to face the speaker, the length of the gesture more than enough in which to recall what he knew of the turian's identity. "Vakarian. Hadn't expected to see you again. Not without significant dent in criminal population, anyway." His mouth twitches briefly in a suppressed smile. "Certainly not here. Then again- didn't expect here, either. Location considerably larger than anywhere mapped on level of Omega I just left. No sign of batarian presence, no asari, no other turians apparent- would say this isn't Omega at all if asked, frankly."

He'll probably remember to ask if Garrus knows what's going on at some point. Probably.

[rogueseraph]

Garrus is having a good time.

"If you look hard enough, you'll see some species you haven't seen before too," Garrus says, watching with interest for the doctor's reaction.

[pattersongs]

"Indeed." Mordin turns a little, eyeing the rest of the room speculatively. "Staff apparently composed of intelligent rodents. Don't recall seeing bipedal aquatic types anytime recently." He pauses, sniffing the air. "Doesn't smell familiar, either. Smells like- hm. Human cuisine? Possibly. Would fit with the population, majority of which looks too clean for Omega."

[rogueseraph]

"So where do you think we are, Doc?" asks Garrus, reclining in his chair.

[pattersongs]

"Don't know. Couldn't say."

Beat. Two. Three.

"Not Omega, that much is clear."

[rogueseraph]

Seeing the doctor perplexed is good entertainment; unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end.

"We're in Milliways," Garrus states. "An extra-dimensional-bar-in-a-temporal-space-bubble. Come in from anywhere, anywhen, and when you leave, you go back to wherever you came from." He nods at the counter. "I've got a suspicion that Bar picks and chooses who comes here. It's almost an honor to get to walk through the door, I guess."

[pattersongs]

If salarians genuinely had eyebrows Mordin would be lifting one of his; as it stands he merely frowns a little further. "I see. Interesting," he murmurs. "Dimensional bubbling not impossible, of course. Seen plenty of theorized variants. Never did accept most of them. Most of the math was wrong. Curious as to exact nature of mechanism of travel. Went over the door for possible electronic interference several times today, didn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Fifteen minutes since last examination hardly enough time to install high level scientific equipment. Must be controlled from this side, in which case, would definitely like to speak to the controller."

[rogueseraph]

"Never thought of having a chat with the establishment myself," says Garrus. But there would be time for that later. Time for a subject change.

"Hey," he begins, nodding at Mordin, "I know you can take care of yourself, but... I'm making a lot of dangerous people really angry. It's not much now, but my plans aren't even started yet." Garrus tilts his head. "If anyone ever mentioned--to the wrong person--that Archangel stopped by your clinic with a few patients, you could get tangled up in something that shouldn't be your problem."

Dr. Solus didn't deserve that.

[pattersongs]

"Not particularly worried. Appreciate your concern, though," Mordin says, lacing his fingers together for a moment. "Don't intend to put up with any nonsense. Come around if you need. Trust your discretion- and clinic hours don't have to be regular."

[rogueseraph]

Garrus grins. "I'll owe you," he says, "so I might as well start trying to pay you back now. Come on, I'll get you a drink. Space-bubble or no, we are in a bar." He cocks a mandible, curious of what the doctor's response to his offer will be.

[pattersongs]

"Never was one to turn down hospitality when offered," says Mordin cheerfully. "Curious, though. What's the local selection like?"

[rogueseraph]

"Anything and everything, Doc." Which was why Garrus had run up such a high tab. He'd have to see about getting that thing payed off before something unpleasant happened.

[pattersongs]

"Sounds promising," comments Mordin. "Automated service? Or temporarily absent tender?"

[rogueseraph]

Garrus shrugs. "There are tenders sometimes, but that's more of a volunteer service. It's Bar that does all the work. The company is really what makes this place great. Like I said, the bar picks and chooses who comes in. You've got a good chance to run into people you know, somehow."

[pattersongs]

"Hm. Interesting. Considerable potential for trouble," Mordin muses aloud. "Not everyone I know necessarily friendly. "Automated bar system prepares and serves drinks, selects clientele, operates transportation technology considerably more sophisticated and precise than mass relays- don't believe I've heard of any synthetic capable of performing at such levels. Or organic, for that matter. Wonder what motivation exists for establishing such a system..."