[I]Blah blah blah swaggering human machismo! Blah blah revenge![/i]

Zik stifled a paternal smile. It was nice to have Declan back.

"More likely to know than to have instigated. Stupid, not suicidal." Stupidly suicidal? Suicidally stupid? Whatever. The Turians cropping up to show the human a good time weren't nearly as alarming for Zik as they probably should have been--Aria T'Loak was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Declan Calaway wasn't the kind of person you iced in a back alley for shits and giggles, and while the two would butt all sorts of heads he was also smart enough to know what lines to draw. While negotiations with the Captain were always some of the more precarious situations the crew could get into, Zik had learned that said swaggering human machismo also required he be intelligent enough to get [i]away[/i] with his bullshit stunts, preferably with his crew in tact.

As the battle wound down and their newly reinstated Captain was lead away by the goons, Zik's attention flicked to the love of his life and her daring question. Having researched the subject somewhat aggressively, Zik still had no idea how it was that asari were able to inspire the kind of effect on Salarians that they did on every other species. Propagation was a method of social control, dammit, not this silly past time of shooting DNA at one another like the rest of the universe seemed to believe! And yet...

Well. [i]Yet.[/i]

Zik's internal monologue concerning the asari was entirely Quixotic, filled with grand Tarantinesque gestures and silly little shared banter. A running romance novel of the grizzled salarian veteran and the ancient biotic goddess, Grade A Romance-Holo Bullshit that he maintained more as a lark than anything else. Still, with enough biotic badassery and accumulated combat experience to put messy little holes in him if she ever learned how often he wondered what she would look like in a yellow jumpsuit, Zik was more than happy to keep his little mental gymnastics to himself.

"For you, darling, I can find out."

...mostly to himself.

He, of course, already knew. As he'd already known since long before their little meeting, but it was useful to buy him some time as he worked away with his omnitool. They wouldn't have a lot of time, and as much as he wanted to surprise the Vol he also had to snare him into their little group again, which meant at least [i]some[/i] coordination and tact. And timing.

Rosa's comment, however, actually took him by surprise. Making his way over to check the datapad, he cocked his head curiously at the message to the Vorcha. The Salarian? It obviously meant Zik--who else?--but it didn't seem like something Omus had done. Certainly the order had initially been for Calaway, so why...

"Ah. Moment."

Only one way for Omus to know of Zik's involvement and not act directly--for him [i]not[/i] to know, but someone [i]else[/i] to. A quick scan confirmed it, and he smiled with predatory glee as his system popped up a small red flag on a file stuck onto the last batch of data it had scanned from Vol's systems, a reasonably-competent little spy program determining his whereabouts. Omus personal aid was a bit quicker on the draw than she had been the last few times. She was soon to be a bit quicker on the draw than she had any idea of.

"Looks like a hack in my datapad. Minor. Can't believe I missed it." He lied again with casual ease, fingers working to redo the numbers. What if [i]Omus[/i] wasn't the villain in this little affair, but the dupe? The obvious plot, a rotund obfuscation for the true mastermind...

Emily Short. Personal assistant and [i]Su[/i]per [i]Ge[/i]nius.

"Must have been tracking me, known where I was for the vorcha. Suspect Vol's personal assistant--ambitious. Ruthless. Cunning." Completely ignorant that she was now significantly richer and significantly more wanted by Omega's personal crime lord, who now understood her responsible for more than half of her pint-sized employer's prized schemes and a substantial portion of his wealth, not to mention a back-alley brawl of military proportions.

"Let's say hello. Got his address right here." He added, finally deactivating his tool and motioning down another alleyway for them to follow.

"Good work, team."

And good to be back.