Name: Stephen Grayson<br/>Location: Vigilant Briefing Room-->Cargo Bays<br/>Tags: Everyone, then Veyle Holden<br/><hr/><br/>As the group gathered around the briefing room of the Vigilant, a few changes would be apparent in Stephen. One would be his dramatic change in attire; the stylish one-piece suit had been replaced by a suit of unusual red armour (http://masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Jormangund_Technology), complete with a few guns that made the sharp dressed man from before appear more like his true-self: A casual ender of lives, no matter what race, species, gender of affiliation. The other notable change was in his demeanour: The false happiness replaced by a sort of cold and calm way of holding himself. He was playing a more silent observer as the Turian started to explain the mission.<br/><br/>In honesty, the mission was somewhat interesting: and as the Turian spoke, ALICE recorded every word said as a voice file. Even though his prime reason for being here was to gather information: the vanguard couldn't help but be intrigued for a number of reasons. For a start, the target of the previous mission, Casca Corvincus, was a matter of much debate within the Shadow Broker's files. Even he knew not what the Turian's objective was with the Damascus IV incident: In fact, much speculation surrounded the man himself. Any information he got would be incredibly valuable to the Shadow Broker: perhaps valuable enough to garner information on a certain Asari Matron? Throughout his thought processes, he heard the tapping of metal on metal: an interesting sound he'd long since grown accustomed too. It almost had the effect of a calming metronome to him. He looked at Iliarya Maveptis and saw the little knowing smile she gave him. It put a little smirk on his face, had him clearing his throat to direct a question at the Turian Spectre.<br/><br/>"As fascinating as this mission sounds, it hardly sounds the place for a close protection officer. Wouldn't you agree?"<br/><br/>The question was a bit of a play on Stephen's part. He wanted to know a few things about his potential employer: namely what they knew about him; they clearly knew that he played the part of Mjolnir, but did the rest of the group know? He didn't think he'd ever killed anyone they might hold dear but it was so hard to keep track nowadays and...<br/><br/>Stephen's though process was suddenly disrupted by the sudden motion of the pretty woman who kept making little hateful glances towards the Spectre and the hologram that she'd projected of the former Turian warlord. He recognized the mask, so expertly worn by someone trained to mask their feelings and wondered if the woman would prove to be interesting. When nobody moved to stop her, he slowly stood up, the practiced smile on his face.<br/><br/>"I'll go have a chat with her. I've gotten a handle on the whole P.R. thing."<br/><br/>The last thing he cared about was Public relations. What he cared for was a pretty woman who wore such a pretty little angel's mask. Things like him...people like him were somewhat of an interest.<br/><br/>He hadn't gotten two corridors from the room when he heard the mighty thunderous crash from the direction of the woman. He picked up the pace and circled round the corner when he saw the admirable chaos of her biotic handiwork. Boxes and expensive equipment was strewn around the Cargo bay and near enough everything had been destroyed in one fashion or the other. As he stood in the doorway of the room, he noticed that a single camera remained: untouched by the biotic chaos. He smirked slightly as he let rip his own little biotic display: A shockwave that shattered every chance the camera had of recording what was about to happen.<br/><br/>"You don't take it easy, do you?"<br/><br/>Stephen strolled towards Veyle: following the sound of her heavy breathing. He could guess that she was in a state, so instead of facing her, he leaned against the box that she'd taken refuge behind, making himself obvious enough to her.<br/><br/>"Listen, I don't know what the hell you've got on your plate: but I suggest you learn to control those biotic headaches. Wouldn't want to give the Turian a reason to not trust you, would we?"<br/><br/>Stephen didn't have a clue to what this woman had as an agenda, nor did he care. It wasn't his place to pry into the thoughts and minds of others. He gave her a moment to compose herself before he spun himself around to face her. He offered her his right hand: his real hand, to lift herself up.<br/><br/>"Stephen Grayson."<br/>