<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>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>Elevator to upper deck<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Jackiro<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>The Salarian almost seemed disappointed to see him. Arcus narrowed his eyes, flexing his hands and standing still, unmoving, as this strange lizard reached for his belt, and then balled his hand into a fist and then readjusted his form and called him by his name. Of all the people he's met today, this one seemed the strangest. He was already cursing whoever thought the crew needed to be<em>this</em>diverse in species and personality. One might think they were trying to write a novel, with how they chose the personnel. "Yes. Arcus Aurelion." There wasn't much surprise in his voice, but he was somewhat pleased that someone finally recognised him. He didn't need to press further for identification; he promptly revealed himself as the STG agent and that he wasn't aware of what 'ducks' were. If he was being honest, Arcus didn't either.<br/><br/>Realising Jackiro was probably packing an overworked brain under that lithe frame, Arcus also composed himself and readdressed him in a more professional manner. Not that he wasn't professional in the first place. "The surly Turian with blue markings? Ahh, you must be talking of the mercenary. What was his name— Loose?" He almost offered his hand, a human greeting most species now seemed to indulged him (effectively giving him no choice but to follow suit), but was instead met with something of a cross between a salut and a stand at attention. Once again, Arcus narrowed his eyes bemusedly.<em>Salarians.</em>But, he did return the gesture, adopting a pose he often assumed in military ranks; standing up straight with his hands clasped behind his back. A sign of respect, one he usually reserved for equals and betters. He didn't know much about this one, but his status as STG and a prospective Spectre warranted the respect, at least.<br/><br/>"The council didn't brief any of you, I see." He grumbled something about 'lazy bureaucrats' and 'not paid enough for this', and turned back to Jackiro with a sigh, his hands tightly clenched. "Mission details shouldn't be kept clandestine, not after we're already on course for the Terminus systems. I'll have to call for a meeting later to get everyone up to speed." He was talking to himself rather than the Salarian now; a habit he often lapsed into.<br/><br/>"The short answer is that humans on the Citadel have been falling sick to a suspected bio attack by the Batarians. The food on an arriving ship was spiked with a poorly genetically tempered fungi that has been putting the humans into a coma, or killing them outright. The Asari and Turians have not been affected beyond some mild headaches. Possibly because of the innate biotic abilites in the Asari's case, and the dextro-amino diet in ours. Obviously, the Council would be in deep shit if the human convoys sent in good faith all end up dying in their hands, and they can't just point fingers randomly without evidence. Hence the secrecy surrounding this mission. Our goal, for now, is to gather some samples of the fungi and bring them back so the virologists can reverse engineer a cure."<br/><br/>He was sure he'd left behind some crucial information, but even this 'short answer' had taken a large toll on his mouth. "Any questions?" he asked, dearly hoping that the talkative Salarian wouldn't have any inquiries. He wasn't really equipped to answer them anyway.<br/><br/>"Poker? What is that?" A human game, apparently. One of statistics and bluffing. "Oh. In that case, go ahead. I'm not the crew's father, you don't have to ask my permission for everything. If I may, I'd like to join the game as well. If only to observe the rules and the flow of play. This would be a... good team bonding regimen, I believe."