<div align="center">(https://fontmeme.com/permalink/210128/2dbbbdb83f81e86eb7c97538c683a9ea.png)</div><br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>Pix leaned forward in his chair to see what it is that Jackiro had to show him, but instead of shrinking back in horror or pulling a face of disgust, the Krogan instead frowned and looked…<em>annoyed</em>. The sound of him gritting his teeth was like two great slabs of stone grinding together, and after a moment’s pause, he lifted that irritated look to the alien that sat across the table from him. He didn’t lunge or push away from the table, but he didn’t lessen the bite of his words, either. “You’re asking a krogan about a<em>manufactured biological attack</em>?”<br/><br/>Pix shook his head in disbelief, and through the flash of his anger, Jackiro may have caught another glimpse of why he was a warlord. “Try turning your attention over towards a salarian! You sacks of pyjak piss created the genophage, maybe turn your attention towards your ‘secret labs’ for once instead pointing the finger of blame over here at me!”<br/><br/>Again, Pix didn’t vault over the table or even flip it over. As tempted as he was to do just that. With open anger and a scowl, he straightened in his seat and glared at the Salarian sitting across from him. “Jobs are handed out through third-party contacts, you don’t meet the contract face to face in our business. Opportunities are posted on a board, and once you take the job it’s off the board and in your pocket so no one else can grab it. It allows secrecy for those who care, and it strips away competition between mercs who might want to steal someone elses’ hard work at the finish line. I’ve nothing else to offer that’ll help you with your little problem, salarian.”