<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/cc/d3/eb/ccd3eb851ec1e8945ab9e1e139a25276.jpg)</div><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">NAME:</span></strong>Florinthia 'Flo' Legiticus (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=329085.msg15779216#msg15779216)<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>Biotic Weapon and Requisition Officer<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">DATE:</span></strong>December 20th, 2174 CE<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING: </span></strong>Casual synthetic top and 'pants' with a nice brown jacket. (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ee/10/f7/ee10f772225f872df8cc7c242d7e19ec.jpg)<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Bottom Deck | Near Decontamination --> Elevator entrance<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>Hmmm...<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Malcolm Thomas<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>Florinthia's eye twitched for a moment as she caught onto Malcolm pushing to flirt more with her. He was hardly subtle, even if he wasn't exactly the normal flyboy she ended up having to rebut in Turian society. Truth be told, Cabal members weren't exactly 'hot property' in her own culture because of stigma against them. A few people had made passes; and sometimes she even rode the wave for a bit. As much as a way of taking some of her life for herself, than out of any affection or desire. The odd rumour that the precious firstborn of the Legiticus clan shacking up with some braindead Turian grunt no doubt brought dear old dad no end of headaches, after all; and that was enough to leave her with a smile.<br/><br/>In this situation though, she wasn't smiling. The click of a mandible and the tap of a fingernail against her wrist was enough to stop her from being hasty, or cruel. He was playful, and sweet at times. Puppy-like, in a way. It might have been cute if not for how this whole thing had started. “<strong>Tell me, was this whole 'Follow me so I don't collapse' routine just a way to try and sneak into my pants? If you're that desperate to 'bunk', maybe wait until I'm healthy, or find an Asari. You might seem a little less...desperate.</strong>” She watched his gaze, undeniably a mixture of teasing and playful, as he went from her chest, to her face, then down to his arm.<br/><br/>The mention of his prosthetic seemingly brought a different side of him out. Something slightly more serious, and slightly less chatty. She'd read about reports on the Mindoir incident. “<strong>Batarians...</strong>” She frowned, trying not to look like she was pitying the man. At this point, the Elevator doors opened, and she stepped in and leaned against a railing. “<strong>...Disgusting little creatures. Were you a colonist, or a soldier? I'm guessing soldier, but I hear both groups got some unfortunate action.</strong>” It was difficult to offer sympathies for the man, because sympathy so often turned into pity. Mindoir was a trying time for early human civilisation, and a reminder that not everyone would view their entrance onto the Galactic stage kindly. Batarians were vile worms, in the Adept's mind, and their caste system was enough for her to consider plenty of targeted and violent actions against them. Thankfully they didn't dare anger the Turian regime, but that wasn't always going to be true. If she'd been an Admiral, she would...<br/><br/>...Flo frowned, annoyed at herself for going in that same direction she so often went. The what-ifs, the how-it-should-have-beens, and the If-onlys. She needed a distraction, so she focused back in on Malcolm. Honing at his face, his handsomeness caught her eye again. She hadn't often vocalised it, but humans certainly had a delightful aesthetic. They may be a touch too soft, but their was strength behind their looks too: Strong cheekbones; defined chins; those cute little noses they tended to have...And their lips. Their lips were fascinating pieces of flesh, pink and inviting. 'How did they taste?' she sometimes wondered. "<strong>What made you turn to Engineering? I understand human prosthetics are advanced enough to keep an individual combat-ready. If you were a soldier, why change to something new? If you were a colonist, why not enlist for some sort of...of vindication?</strong>" It was perhaps cruel, but focusing on Mindoir kept Malcolm as the topic of conversation, which meant he wasn't flirting, and her mind wasn't driving her to hurting. She'd do much better being indignant and furious at Batarians than she would annoyed at her own situation, or trying to swat down his flirtation.