Though she rolled her eyes as he wrapped a wing around her, she was smiling all the same. Even her foul mood couldn't resist a bug hug, and to tell the truth, she was more than a little starved for a friendly touch. Humans were a very tactile species compared to many others, she had found, and years of being alone eventually took its toll. Oh, Garraus touched her plenty, but that was hardly<i>friendly, </i>was it? No, a fuzzy exoskeleton pressed up against her was infinitely preferable to his scales and ragged fur. She sneezed as a bit of the shed mist from his wings drifted past her nose, and gave Astor a challenging look.<b>"You trying to drug me, bug?" </b>It was all teasing, though, said in a way that made that more than apparent. Between Kree dust and booze, at least the dust didn't give her a hangover.<br/><br/>Blanketed in his wings, her eyes widened as she felt the credits slipped into her hand. They were quickly transferred to her pocket, and she looked at the Kree with a gentle smile.<b>"You're a gem, Astor." </b>she murmured softly, giving his segmented hand a squeeze as he stepped back and tucked his wings in once more. She nodded as he turned to go, wishing her well.<b>"I'll try. Goodnight, Astor, and take care." </b>She watched him for a moment as he left, his half-furled wings glimmering like opals in the light of the lobby. A gem indeed.<br/><br/>Feeling a bit better, she stepped into the elevator and rode it upwards, until she arrived at her floor. Her apartment was a simple affair, but if Garraus had<i>any</i>good traits, it was that he didn't house his tenants in a dump. Her home was small but tidy, with the kind of lived-in warmth that humans had a stubborn tendency to bring with them. A shelf over her bed housed a collection of intricately shaped and colored stones, all samples taken from her days at the mining colony--reminders of a better time. She made sure to lock the door as she entered, kicking her boots off at the door.<br/><br/>She was bone-tired, but she wasn't going to bed without a shower. Tossing her wallet and extra credits on the nightstand, she made for the bathroom, shedding her work clothes as she did so. Her top was first, and a sigh of relief followed as her bra was dropped to the floor with it, leaving her plump breasts free. Her shorts and underwear followed suit, and as she turned the shower knob, she glanced over to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. It was said that bodies told stories. If that was the case, then Tamelyn's body was a testament to unyielding resilience in the face of hardship. Short, dark hair framed a tanned, youthful face that contrasted against her dark eyes. They were the eyes of someone much older, brought about by years of hard living and hard work, but there was a distinct fire to them nonetheless, a storm that threatened to brew once more. Her body was one forged of hard living and hard work as well, fit and lightly-muscled, but pockmarked here and there with old, faded scars. Operating mining craft had been dangerous work, and more than once she had been clipped by a flying bit of stone or sharp metal.<br/><br/>Thinking about it, there were almost certainly prettier humans out there that Garraus could have snagged, not that she would have ever<i>wanted</i>another to endure what she had. It had just been her shit luck to be the first one to stumble across his doorstep. She pushed all thoughts of the scumbag out of her mind for the moment and stepped into the shower, letting out another sigh of relief as the blissful warmth soothed her aching muscles.<br/><br/>After her shower, she stepped out of the bathroom clad only in a loose nightshirt and flopped down on her bed with a contented huff. She had the day off tomorrow, she remembered, which meant--glory of glories--<i>sleeping in.</i>Yeah, life could be shit sometimes (well, most of the time), but it was those little bits of respite that kept her going. That, and the distant hope of saving up enough credits to board a shuttle and put half the galaxy between her and Garraus.