<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/06/2a/7b/062a7b89e65aade4f736c10f2702987c.jpg)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">NAME:</span></strong>Galeaus Centuri (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=335654.msg15962427#msg15962427)<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">RACE:</span></strong>Turian<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">OCCUPATION:</span></strong>Council Spectre<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">DATE:</span></strong>December 18th, 2174 CE<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING:</span></strong>Heavy Turian Armour, Orange-and-Black, without Helmet.<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Enlil Hanger<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>No,<em>you're</em>an asshole!<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Sam, Mischa.<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>“My Narrative?” The brief finger pointing display from the human had Galeaus frustration flare up to a boiling point. “<strong><em>My</em></strong>Narrative? What kind of asinine bullc-” He stopped himself, turning instantly on his heel and turning his back to Sam, his bunched up knuckle tapping against his forehead as he fought to maintain control. What value was there in rising to the woman's jibes? She wanted to annoy him because her feelings were hurt? Because she thought he was rude?<br/><br/>He turned to face her, his face a bit more placid and military. The tiredness and the elevated emotions were replaced by a sort of duty-bound stoicism. Turians were drilled to work that stoic, regimented lifestyle from a young age, might as well use it. “Apologies, Doctor. Rushing and then cancelling a voluntary evacuation order of my non-combat crewmates to try and assist you – as well as nearly having my ship and crewmates biotically cooked – have made me wary of unknown Mercenaries.”<br/><br/>...Okay, maybe not too stoic.<br/><br/>“Please adjust yourself aboard the Corvidae and find yourself some quarters to relax in. You can come find me when you're ready. I'll go and survey the site.”<br/><br/>She was as eager to leave as he was, and just like that the oh-so-harmonious core of the Enlil rescue operation separated; barely avoiding a full on shouting match, or a full on wrestling match.<br/><br/>He glanced over his shoulder as she left, briefly seeing her sway away. Swaying with a swinging, swaying gait as she swung her...<br/><br/>He blinked, surprised at himself before he rubbed at his eyes. He was too tired for this shit.<br/><br/>He tapped his Omnitool on and messaged Mischa, since the unlucky bastard was playing doorman.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">'Let the Doc and her chosen mercs aboard. I was serious about getting them to shower before they stink up my goddamned ship, so make sure they know where the hell to go.</span>'<br/><br/>With that, Galeaus took a walk, hoping to spot any practical problems that he could actually solve, instead of lingering on the Doctor shaped problem he'd have to deal with later.