Purgatory

Even here, in Purgatory, Vega wasn't completely at ease. The club still had an air of stuffiness about it, although he had to admit that it was better than standing around the embassies or the commons by far. Plus - he smirked as a cute asari and her redheaded friend walked by him, smiling coyly - the view here was much lovelier. A woman leaning over the bar talking to the salarian bartender caught his eye and his smirk widened - much, much lovelier.

James slowly sauntered over, sneaking covert glances at the woman at the bar. She was curvy, wearing jeans and a knit top that was snug in all the right places. Dark, wavy hair fell to her shoulders. She was just his kind of woman. He leaned on the bar next to her, an opening line on his lips, and found himself staring at Betty Shepard herself.

"Oh shit, Commander!" he sputtered.

"James," she replied. If she thought his greeting odd, she certainly didn't let it show.

Vega gawked a little bit. He'd only ever seen Shepard in full armor or in various fatigues with her hair tightly pinned up in a bun or slicked back in a ponytail. He'd never seen her looking so… 'normal' wasn't quite the right word, but it was the only one his astounded mind would provide. And to think, he'd been seconds away from feeding her a cheesy one-liner!

Shepard finished her conversation with the bartender and gave Vega an amused smirk. "Were you hoping I'd giggle vacuously and ask to feel your muscles?"

James cleared his throat and tried to ignore the fact that he was blushing a little. "Of course not, Commander, you can feel whatever you want with no giggle required."

"Hah," the woman laughed softly and accepted a couple of drinks from the salarian behind the bar. "Whatever my friend here wants," she inclined her head toward Vega, "put it on my tab… unless he buys a round for the whole club, then he's on his own."

The bartender chuckled, "No problem, Shepard."

The salarian went to serve another customer and Shepard took a sip from her glass, pulling a face, "Mn. Aria was right. The rum here is terrible, watered down or… something. Well, return to the Normandy by 18:00 hrs, Lieutenant. Try not to run my tab up too high."

"Not going to have a drink with me, Lola?" he asked, regaining some of his usual cool now that he was over the shock of seeing Shepard looking… 'normal'.

"Some other time, I have business to attend to right now." She lightly rattled the second glass in her hand, indicating that somewhere in the club someone was waiting for her.

"Right," James replied, "rain check."

Shepard nodded and left, weaving her way through the crowd. James tried to convince himself that he wasn't watching the slight sway of her hips as she walked away.

"What can I get for you?" a voice behind him asked.

James turned back toward the bar and leaned against it. "Shot of the strongest levo-friendly drink you have… maybe two."