It occurred to Kosso as he prowled the cramped corridors of the Tyrus that Nova had a very particular and impressive talent: they always seemed to know when he wanted to be left alone, and bothered him incessantly with accordingly inane matters whenever that was the case, but when he was actually looking for any of them, they somehow vanished into the cracks and crevices of their relatively tiny ship, leaving him with the dreadful choice between knocking on their doors like a hopeful solicitor or going through the arduous process of conversing with Captain (and whatever ridiculous personality had been uploaded into him last) to have the VI seek them out. Grudgingly, he chose the former, but Tanya's door remain closed when he knocked, and the "hitchhiker" they'd picked up on Kahje wasn't in the bunk they'd lazily laid out for him. Normally he'd set up these rare interactions with the rest of the crew through cold and impersonal digital messages, the way it was meant to be, but Tanya's omnitool had finally justified his general distrust in advanced tech by spontaneously exploding, and he didn't have the new guy's contact information. 

In fact, the entire crew was absent, all wrapped up in their own thoughts after the near-disaster on Kahje. Kosso might as well have been the only living thing on the Tyrus. Seizing what might be his only chance, he decided it was the perfect time to sneak into the lounge and steal those two Khar'shan beers that Steveo had promised him in return for hooking him up with a dedicated coffee bean distributor on Omega and then immediately (and conveniently) forgotten to give him. Which was fair enough, considering that Kosso knew the coffee bean distributor cut his stock with cocoa beans, and had only fed the lead to Steveo so that the Salarian would stop complaining about how hard it was to find good coffee in the Terminus Systems.

But when he confidently strode into the lounge with a grin on his face and a notion that a little bit of embargoed alcohol might actually help calm his nerves, he found Roland there, looking like shit as he sagged against the couch cushions and watched some nonsense movie about Humans ineffectually flailing their limbs together. Kosso took one look at the screen and immediately knew he was in over his head; whatever was going on here was obviously some sort of deeply ingrained and wholly incomprehensible Human ritual. No one could ever think watching this sort of schlock was entertaining. He briefly considered just turning on his heel and heading back to his room without a word, but he knew that was pointless. He'd just end up pacing the floor between his desk and his bed, restless. Any attempts were fruitless, because every time he laid down he swore he felt the Tyrus tilting impossibly, spilling itself into the void just like the [i]Aurelion[/i] had torn itself asunder and thrown its crew into the raging waters. 

So he swallowed his pride, retrieved the two bottles of Batarian beer from the lounge's mini-fridge, and settled himself on the other end of the couch, noting Roland's dramatic wincing as he was jostled. He winced again when Kosso tossed one of the thick bottles into his lap. "Is this what passes for a good movie on Earth?"