nevertread-dalen:

Though he’d been slumping a little before, Dalen visibly and obviously brightened at the mention of food.  ”Holy flying shitbaskets, yes,” he said eagerly, popping up a little bit forward in his chair.  ”I never manage to get all the food I need at Huerta.  Have you seen what biotics do to a salarian metabolism?”  He forced himself to sit back properly and chuckled a bit sheepishly, plainly a little embarrassed at his sudden show of unbridled enthusiasm.  ”Normally I get by on my stash of ration bars and nutrient shakes,” he said by way of explanation, turning his face to mask its sudden tinge of green, “But anything else is always welcome.  The bars taste like sawdust and the shakes are always… lumpy.  Nutritious, yes, but hardly appetizing.”

          The admiral shook his head in response to the operative’s first question, and leaned backwards as the salarian opened up. He had no idea what Huerta didn’t provide such basic things as decent food. Maybe he’d have to look in to making a donation in the near future. “Then food it is.” He offered Dalen a small and pressed a button summoning his secretary into the office. “Miss Mallorey, could you please order a sandwhich and whatever side dish the kitchen has on hand for me, and for Dalen…” He trailed off and gestured for the operative to order. “We have a variety of salarian foods because of the scientists we have running around. If there’s anything specific you want don’t hesitate to ask for it.”

nevertread-dalen:

Dalen nodded.  ”I’ve heard a little of the N7… thing.  Mostly because Commander Shepard wears it all over the place.  Looked it up.  I like knowing things.”  He laughed a bit sheepishly.  ”I would be fine with working with them… though I should warn you, I was never really trained in how to work with a group.  It was always either operating alone or… with one other person.”  Oh no.  He was not going get upset over that here.  No matter how much he missed his brother, Rheez was one of them now, at least as far as he had to be concerned to keep himself alive.  It hurt, but there was no helping it.

He took a slow, deep breath, doing his best to shove any sort of unhappiness far enough now that it wouldn’t show.  ”In any case,” he went on, hopeful that changing the subject would prevent any further motions towards becoming visibly upset, “It would probably be best if I just answered questions now.  After all, I have no idea what you want to know - if you leave my to do it myself, the information you get might be completely useless.”

“The N7’s are our best operatives. It’s only fitting Shepard wear it on her armor.” Once upon a time he had considered joining the N7’s but old war injuries anew responsibilities had forced him to step back from front line duty. “They can pair you up with one of the men, and the two of you can either work with the rest of them team or by yourselves. I’ll leave it to you and your partner to figure it out.” Hackett trusted the N7 operative and Dalen enough to allow the two of them some freedom. It was what they were trained for after all. Or so he hoped.

“Answering my questions now does seem like the best of options.” He agreed and leaned forwards a fraction. “But first, would you like something to eat? This might take a while and I’d like to have something myself. I’m afraid it’s been rather chaotic this morning, and I haven’t had time to take care of myself.”

nevertread-dalen:

Gingerly, Dalen pulled out the available chair and slowly sat down, as though he expected there to be something sharp waiting for him.  Once there, he folded his hands in his lap and pressed his lips tightly together, waiting for the admiral to speak with a tiny visible tremor.  He was… pleasantly surprised by the man’s next line of conversation - he’d been expecting to be interrogated on the ins and outs of everything STG.

“I’d… I’d be happy to work with the Alliance,” he said after taking a moment to think.  "Or, really, almost anyone.  Anyone who isn’t a salarian unit.  It’s difficult to trust people on the battlefield when you know there is at the very least a strong possibility they see you as a mad dog to be put out of its misery.”  Fidgeting slightly, he added, “I don’t mind checking in with people.  I just want to be out there doing something.  Time to do nothing but stew inside my head doesn’t do anyone any good.”

A warm feeling of contentment spread through the admiral’s chest. Not only was he gaining access to potential information about the STG, but he had also managed to gain a valuable asset. he could easily arrange it so that Dalen wasn’t working with other salarians, if anything he’d want the operative to work with some of his N7 operatives. 

Nodding slowly, Hackett rested his elbows on the armrests of his chair and steepled his fingers together. “We can easily place you with another team.” He said with a small smile. “I was thinking of placing you with a handpicked team of N7 graduates. They’re more specialized than normal graduates, and I think you’ll find that you’ll fit in slightly more with them then you would with others. However,” The man pasued and rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “I do still need some information about the STG. That being said, you can answer all my questions now or submit periodic reports to me.”

nevertread-dalen:

headofthealliance:

nevertread-dalen replied to your post:ooc Going to start working on a relationship…

((They have some kind of relationship. I’m not sure what it is though XD))

[*snorts* You can say that again. I want them to be really good friends eventually.]

((lol I totally do too))

[And so it shall be.]

((They have some kind of relationship. I’m not sure what it is though XD))

[*snorts* You can say that again. I want them to be really good friends eventually.]

nevertread-dalen:

And there it was - the guilt trip.  Dalen had never met a species better at guilt tripping than humans.  The skill was like… encoded in their DNA or something.  Now he felt the same way he always did when Captain James told him he was very disappointed.  Why the hell was it that the disappointment of respectable people was so much more of a motivator than, say, the threat of getting punched repeatedly in the stomach?  Now the admiral had him hook, line, and sinker, and he couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit resentful.  Not enough to act on, but enough to annoy him just a touch.  It was so unfair that people could make him feel guilty this damn easily.

“Alright, alright, fine,” he grumbled after a long pause, sounding much more like a petulant child than the image he’d really want to project.  "I’ll answer questions, but… well, I mean, I don’t know how helpful I’ll be.“  He glanced briefly at the admiral before looking away again.  "If I had my way, I’d be out there fighting myself, not just… sitting in a hospital room being useless.  But it… doesn’t seem like that’s ever going to happen.  Fuck, it doesn’t seem like they’re ever gonna let me out at all.”

Victory. Hackett’s shoulders wanted to slump as the weight of the conversation left them, but he forced himself to remain tall and strong. He moved to sit in his chair, his elbows resting easily against the arm rests as he studied the salarian. Without meaning to he latched onto the idea of putting Dalen into the war. Gesturing for the ex-STG operative to take a seat with one hand, he ran the fingers of his other hand thoughtfully over his top lip. Yes. His skills and training could definitely be put to better use.

“Let’s say I could put you on the battlefield. Would you be willing to frequently get in touch with either myself or someone from the hospital so we could check on your… state of mind?” It wouldn’t do to throw the operative into the battle only to lose him.