<div class="floatleft">(https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/802471378249973771/803254145678704710/6b8450ba5543baeeffa1add344fdfe95.jpg)</div><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">NAME:</span></strong>Arcus Aurelion (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=329085.msg15727099#msg15727099)<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>The Big Bad Spectre<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING:</span></strong>As pictured<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Council chambers<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>Briefing<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Everyone<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>The feeling of being watched, of the constant gazes scrutinizing his every move, was something Arcus was well accustomed to. Being a hulking mass of a Turian he was, not to mention his stygian armour and Spectre status, has numbed his reactions to such things over the years. He paid no mind to any of the people in the room; the glumly human, the hyper-active Quarian, the mercenary-looking Turian who was lounging like he owned the place— he couldn't be further from the Turian image of discipline even if he tried. He did however, spare a small glance to the Asari who stared at him as if she'd seen a ghost. A simple glance and a nod of acknowledgement, wondering if she knew him from somewhere, but that was all she would get out of the stoic Turian, for now.<br/><br/>Instead, his attention was fully focused on Sparatus as the councillor immediately cut through the useless preamble and briefed them on why there were here. He did not wince or look away at the sight of the sick humans; rather, he was more worried what they were doing, sitting in the same room with a human if a diesease was spreading through them like wildfire. Rumours had been circling on the frontiers about the mysterious disease on the Citadel, but seeing it first hand brought the Turian no joy.<br/><br/>Warily, he glanced over to the human woman, clad in typical doctor garbs, just as Sparatus mentioned that several medical personnel had died to the diesase researching it. Now even more suspicious, he wondered briefly if he should voice his concerns upon the matter, but quickly decided against it, not wanting to undermine the councillor's authority in front of these strangers. Perhaps when they were alone, he would.<br/><br/>So far, the information on the disease's nature had been all but alien to his untrained ears, but he listened patiently, knowing a Spectre would not be summoned to a simple pathology discussion meeting. There had to be something they needed him for, something that most likely wasn't legal or safe enough for regular soldiers. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forwards, fingers clasped under his chin. At the councillor's warning that the information was classified, probably more to the others than himself, Arcus gave a single, solemn nod, urging him on with a simple, "Of course, Councillor."<br/><br/>He could only assume that meant these people were all selected meticulously, that they were privy to information that was restricted to his level. And that Sparatus was asking him to trust them, whoever they were.