“Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” Gianna muttered under her breath, feeling the sudden give at her waistband. The subtle hint of softness she had noticed before now seemed more like a cruel mockery. She casually held her skirt in place, trying to maintain an air of professionalism despite the mishap.
Qui'in seemed to momentarily divert his attention from the clandestine discussion, offering a gesture of polite disregard for the wardrobe malfunction. His mandibles fluttered slightly, a Turian sign of discomfort or embarrassment on someone else’s behalf.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Gianna said, excusing herself with a slight, forced smile. She navigated her way to the restroom, maintaining as much dignity as the situation allowed.
Inside, she managed to secure the skirt temporarily, taking a moment to collect herself. “Focus, Gianna,” she whispered to her reflection in the mirror, “You have a job to do.” She took a deep breath, reoriented her mindset towards the task at hand, and stepped back into the charged atmosphere of the bar.
Resuming her seat, she met Qui’in's eyes with a renewed sense of determination. “Apologies for the interruption. Now, about the 'Heating and Cooling' budget you mentioned, can you elaborate?”
The environment, already woven with threads of suspicion and intrigue, seemed to subtly acknowledge the human element of the situation. Sometimes, amidst the shadows of undercover operations, reality strikes in the most mundane ways, grounding the ether of suspense in the tangible world. The investigation continued, with the loose button becoming a mere footnote in the tale of intrigue and corruption unfurling in the icy confinements of Noveria.