<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>The Corvidae; Long-Range Comms --> Hanger<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>Pick Me Ups put down, and Phonecalls picked up.<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong><em>The Crew</em>, Nianna, Sam.<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>Things were progressing well enough, and there was a merciful lull in questions for the Spectre. As much as he'd made sure his door was left open, the Turian soldier was not really much of a talker. He was blunt, occasionally abrasive, and truthful to the point of being obtuse. His snarky attitude was atypical enough of Turians that it caught other races off guard, and his cutting wit was, well, sometimes a rather harsh rapier at his belt.<br/><br/>The few minutes of checking his various weapons was a serene sort of bliss. His weapon of choice was his Vindicator; a wickedly efficient Assault Rifle that did its best work in short bursts. In a way, it was the ideal weapon for Galeaus. Rapid fire was all well and good, but he preferred a measured approach to blindly firing from the hip. His choice in primary armament was even a sort of indictment of his approach on the mission. He wasn't willing to conform to surgical incisions, or sniper assaults; nor was he willing to brute force his way through with a Shotgun barrage. He wasn't willing to simply evacuate a few key personnel, nor was he willing to glass the entire moon.<br/><br/>His thoughts were briefly disturbed by the approach of gentle, padding footsteps. Soft falls intentionally loud enough to be heard made him aware of just who was approaching even before he glanced up from the half-dismantled assault rifle. She asked him to zip her up, and as he glanced up he saw her half in her armour and with her back exposed. It wasn't an unpleasant sight to be sure; a canvas of blue flesh, covering everything but offering so much more. The whispered echo of a canyon to the south, or the subtle hint of the mountains beyond the horizon... A lesser man might have instantly played the gawking fool, but Nianna would hear the sound of a few more subtle clicks and snaps as he finished reassembling the trigger mechanism, a full thirty seconds before he finally shifted from his spot.<br/><br/>“<strong>Bold, and here I was assuming you were here to keep a Council-funded eye on me.</strong>” He said, a lilt of amusement in his voice as talons found the strap of the lowest harness, pulling it through the loop and tugging tightly. Over tightly, even, before the clawed finger of the Bird-like Alien briefly touched the arc of the Asari's spine. A tiny spark of contact, impossible to communicate whether it was intentional, or an accident.<br/><br/>“<strong>I had a choice to turn down the mission: same as I've given all of you. As for why I didn't? I'd rather the job done well. Plenty would have chosen the easy option, but I don't like the easy option.</strong>” He found the next strap, and continued to strap the Assassin in, his finger missing flesh as he kept going up her back. The third and fourth one were fitted in silence. “<strong>I hope this proves exciting enough for you, T'Rini. Your file from the Council was basically empty, but my other sources indicate you are a...thrill-seeker of sorts. I can't promise glamour or glitz, sadly...</strong>” He leaned in briefly, a whisper in her ear. “<strong>...Terrible first date really, but I'm in a pretty committed relationship with my work I'm afraid.</strong>” She'd likely hear the smirk in his voice, enjoying the brief moment of catty snark. It was hardly malicious, but it was clear he was more amused than enthralled with the Temptress' first pass.<br/><br/>With that, he finished the last strap, and zipped the suit up with its second layer of protection. No doubt a biotic field would continue to bolster the Huntress' protection, because her attire was hardly the sort to stop a bullet. He pushed her from behind, a pair of claws shoving her shoulder to move her along. “<strong>There are plenty of others who'll need your pep talks more than me. If you want to play the Ship's psych, god speed. I've a call to make</strong>.”<br/><br/>Glancing around the Corvidae, he was glad to see no one who'd left the ship from the core crew. It was rewarding to know he'd not picked someone who would duck at the first sign of trouble. Instead, he punched a few strokes into the Omnitool on his hand, and conjured up the Extranet communication systems. Thankfully, Enlil hadn't gone completely dark yet, and he had one person in particular he wanted to call before they landed.<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Planetside, during the madness of the shootout, and likely still draped over a Krogan's shoulder, Samantha Adams would receive a call from Galeaus. They'd only spoken briefly, as plans were drawn up by both the Council and the Spectre. He didn't believe she knew much about him beyond his role as a representative of the Council. Did she even know he was a Spectre? Did she even know the plan?<br/><br/>'<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">Do--t----ms</span>'<br/><br/>The signal was spotty. Solar radiation, and a failure in the Megacity's infrastructure was making communication unreliable. How long before that lifeline would be lost?<br/><br/>'<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">Repe-, Doct- -ams. Damn it, Ensig-</span>'<br/><br/>It was patchy, but improving. Finally, it crackled into life, the deep biting grumble of the Turian's voice peeling through Adams' own Omnitool.<br/><br/>'<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">Doctor Adams, Galeaus here. Confirm your situation, over.</span>'<br/><br/>Part of him wanted to accelerate the landing, but he wasn't trying to rush the uncomfortable aboard his ship. If he didn't need to, he'd stick to the schedule. Assuming things weren't deteriorating planetside, he could wait that little bit longer.