Garrus tipped back the last of his Dextro Heat Sink, savoring the burn it left in the back of his throat. It was the right way to end the night after a nearly disastrous start.

The lights had since been dimmed and replaced with colored ones that streaked across the dance floor. Shepard looked particularly inviting with a blue light illuminating her figure from behind. Despite the darkness, he tried his best not to stare.

"You know, I was skeptical about working with you." She said, swirling the remnants of her drink around in her glass.

Garrus leaned on the bar counter. "Why's that?"

"We both prefer to work alone. I was worried that we'd get in each other's way."

"I won't lie, I was skeptical as well. I don't work with humans very often—if at all. It's hard to see past all the stereotypes."

"Yeah. We certainly don't make it easier for ourselves." Shepard finished off her drink and slid her glass across the counter. "You're not so bad, though. You're just a tough guy with a soft center."

Garrus chuckled, a flirtatious hint to his tone. "Is that so? I guess you'll have to peel back my outer layers and find out."

"Was that a pick-up line?"

"Mhm. An awful one, I know, but it was too good to pass up. You walked right into it."

"I guess I did."

The music momentarily faded as someone walked up to the podium on the stage and began speaking. Seeing that they'd finished their drinks, Garrus stood and rolled his shoulders back.

"Ready to blow this joint?" He asked.

Shepard slid off the bar stool and smoothed her dress. "Hell yeah."

They had only made it halfway across the dormant dance floor when a spotlight suddenly shone down on them. Simultaneously, they stiffened in place, confused as to what was going on.

"It seems like we have two volunteers!" The salarian on the stage exclaimed. "Oooh, a turian and a human? How interesting!"

Shepard scowled. "Volunteers for what?"

"No idea." Garrus shrugged.

As if to answer her question, a tango-style song began to play. People gathered around the dance floor, their eyes eagerly watching. Garrus and Shepard shared mortified stares.

"I don't know how to tango!" She hissed under her breath, her eyes flicking to the crowd.

"What the hell is a tango?" Garrus muttered.

"It's a style of dance back on Earth. Very... uh.."

"Complicated?"

"Not what I was going to say, but sure."

"C'mon, folks! Let's give 'em some encouragement!" The salarian chimed in, lifting his hands in an attempt to get the crowd to cheer. It worked for the most part, increasing the pressure.

Shepard forced a sigh through her nose and looked up at Garrus. "Do you know how to dance?"

Garrus blinked, having been lost in his own thoughts of shame and embarrassment. "I know some... basic moves. Not sure how the human version of dancing compares to how turians do it."

"It doesn't matter. Just put your hands here and move with me."

Garrus nearly choked on air as Shepard grabbed his hands and moved them to her hips. It felt strange and far too intimate. His body reacted on its own, raising his core temperature as well as tightening the knot of anxiety in his gut. His legs refused to obey any commands he gave them.

Shepard shot him a look. "Garrus, you have to move."

"I know, I know! Just..."

It was a slow start, but soon they began to move in a less awkward manner. Garrus found it difficult to adjust his movements so he didn't accidentally step on Shepard's foot. As time went on, however, he got the hang of the simple stepping movements and the dance flowed more smoothly. He kept his focus on her, not daring to look at anyone else around them.

She felt so delicate in his hands, like the petal of a flower that would wilt at the slightest shift in temperature. Her attitude, however, reflected that of the fiercest varren snapping her jaws whenever someone got too close. It was something he both admired and feared, and he felt honored that she was even allowing him to do this with her.

It was only to not draw suspicion, he understood that very clearly, but something about the way she looked up at him with the light sparkling in her eyes made his knees weak.

The dance lasted a few more moments as the music began winding down, at which point he decided to be bold and finish it by dipping Shepard towards the floor. It would probably bite him in the ass later, but it was worth it.

As he pulled her up, cheers and claps erupted from the crowd. His hands lingered on her arms, relishing the softness of her skin before he pulled them away. Her cheeks flushed a slight pink color and she looked away.

"Very nice, very nice!" The salarian on the stage cheered, grinning widely. "You've set a very high standard! Who's next? Anyone, anyone?"

Garrus and Shepard took that as their cue to make a quick exit. They made it to the shuttle without a hitch and rode back to the ship in complete silence.

•••

The quiet hum of the ship filled the silence in the air. Garrus sat in one corner of the lounge, a datapad in his hand. While the contents of the strange bottle were being analyzed, he'd been searching for something that matched the symbol carved into it. It provided a welcome distraction from the emotions swirling around inside him.

Meanwhile, Shepard sat on the opposite side, which wasn't very far considering the size of the room. She hadn't spoken a word to him since they returned and avoided his gaze whenever he tried to catch hers. Based on her outward expression alone, it was impossible to tell whether she was furious with him or utterly embarrassed. Unlike turians, humans wore their emotions right on their faces, though it sure was hard to figure out which one it was.

Mustering some courage, Garrus decided to break the silence. "Shepard—"

"Unless you have something, I don't want to hear another word." Shepard sharply responded, her eyes never leaving her datapad.

"...Alright then." A brief silence. Then, he continued. "I have something."

"I'm listening."

"I traced this symbol back to a group called the Ravagers. Batarian mercs. Not much is known about them. No field of work, no hotspots, no list of notable members... Either they're fresh off the press or they've done a hell of a job keeping information from getting out."

"Figuring out what's in that bottle might help find some information."

As if on cue, Shepard's omnitool pinged. Garrus leaned forward in his chair, eagerly waiting for her to say something. Finally, after a few moments, she turned to face him.

"The test was positive for Hallex."

"Hallex? That's a controlled substance. The Ravagers must be smuggling it from somewhere."

Shepard turned back to her omnitool, scrolling through several pages of digital text. "Alliance techs managed to snag a guest list after we left the party. Some of the names were encrypted, but after some digging I managed to find our guy with the pills. His name is Harley Johnson."

"Hmm... he's got the same last name as a Red Sand dealer Tiburso mentioned to me. That can't be a coincidence."

"Johnson is a common human surname."

"Having two humans with the same last name at the same party where Red Sand is being given out as party favors is not something you look at and think 'wow, what a coincidence!'. They've got to be related."

"Okay, so they're related. Who's the brother?"

Garrus brought up some info on his datapad. "Dack Johnson. Red Sand dealer based out of Kyrac. Infamously known for keeping pure Red Sand for himself and giving his buyers lesser product. The greeting cards we received were made out of his Red Sand."

"Safe to assume he's not well-liked." Shepard said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Since we've got your analysis of the card, we can compare it to any Red Sand shipments we find to see if it matches."

"And if it doesn't match Tiburso's shipment, we know they're not coming from the same place, which will leave us with two Red Sand dealers and a group of Hallex smugglers."

Shepard rose from her chair to stand by the window and watch threads of space warp around the ship's hull at FTL (faster-than-light) speeds. "There's gotta be a connection here. Something between the Johnson brothers and the Ravagers. Why else would Harley have one of their bottles?"

"Perhaps it's a mutually beneficial partnership." Garrus suggested. "The Ravagers provide the Hallex and in turn, the Johnsons keep their records wiped clean so no one can track them down."

"Ain't that some C-Sec chop." A chuckle came from Shepard and she smiled. "I like the way you think. At least you have a brain. Can't say the same for some of my other partners."

Garrus bashfully lowered his head. Her praise pleased him greatly, even if he didn't need to hear it. "I'm glad we see eye-to-eye. I get good ideas every once in a while when I'm not busy trying to keep myself from smashing my head into a wall out of frustration. So what's our next move?"

"Go through with Tiburso's deal. Tag the ship, compare the Red Sand samples, and go from there." Shepard said, uncrossing her arms. "Hackett will want a progress report before we do anything."

Garrus nodded and stood. It appeared that things had been smoothed over between them, and any animosity Shepard might've had towards him had faded. Still, it was probably best that he remained cautious moving forward. Their mission was developing rapidly and he couldn't afford to lose focus.