<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 21st, 2174 CE<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">WEARING: </span></strong>Basic Military Uniform, Hood Down.<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Middle Deck | Galley<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>Chatting<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">TAG:</span></strong>Drack<br/><br/><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><div align="center"> ___________________________________________________________</div><br/>She was feeling better today.<br/><br/>It had only been a little over twenty-four hours since her illness was crippling enough that Flo had her arm twisted enough that she'd unwillingly adopted a boy-scout, but in that time she'd burnt through most of the lingering effects of her illness. She was able to move, she had done some basic exercise to test her levels of fatigue, and she'd even done a bit of biotic flexing to make sure she hadn't lost her edge. All in all, she felt a solid Seventy-Five percent.<br/><br/>The perfect time to celebrate with a drink.<br/><br/>Dextro-Amino based alcohols weren't exactly the tastiest thing in the world, but for Flo they were a nice distraction. She could relax after a day, she could unwind and appreciate her evening alone, and she could even scan through any additional requisition requests that had snuck in since the end of the last mission. It had been sombre seeing the backend of it, and had left the Turian with a linger sense of spiteful guilt. Weakness had kept her off the mission. If she was there, would more have survived? Samantha, the Human medic, might not have needed to fill numbers if she was there. The Doctor might not be bedridden and nearly crippled for life, the Spectre might be uninjured. Question after question, hypothetical after hypothetical. What-if, what-if, what-if, wha-<br/><br/>“Are you Flortinthia?”<br/><br/>The Krogan's voice shook the Turian out of her own mind. She had stewed in the little pity-party she'd thrown herself, and was suddenly glad for a new distraction. A Biotic's mind might be their greatest weapon, but a mortal's mind was also its own greatest weakness. He made questions about a Still, and suddenly Flo was snorting at the Krogan, picking him out of the various requests she'd flown through yesterday. “<strong>I can't tell if you're more annoyed or impressed. If you prefer, I can take longer to reject your request next time.</strong>”<br/><br/>With a fingernail that barely lifted from her glass, blue energy seemed to glow. With a flick, the chair opposite her dragged out and grinded on the galley floor. She nodded towards it, an invitation to sit since he was clearly intent on making his case. Once he was sat, she continued to speak. “<strong>I could think of about six reasons to reject your request, but I'll go for the easy ones now. One, I don't give out money for pet-projects. Two, if I thought your little Pet-project was worth doing, I'd still reject it, because If I can't rationalise the usefulness of an outgoing project to the crew or its special assets, I deny it. Everyone and their little Varren mutt would be asking me for money so they can buy Yoga matts, or whatever their newest obsession is if I wasn't a hard-ass.</strong>” She shook her head at the request of one of her Kabalite brothers who'd spent a good twenty minutes talking about their newfound obsession with 'Asari Yoga Classes' that they were clearly just getting into so they could stare at Asari in lewd positions. “<strong>Thirdly, if I have to drink shit alcohol, so does everyone else.</strong>” She shook the murky brown swill in her cup, bringing it to her lips and sneering a little as it touched her tongue. It wasn't that it had any special kick, it just tasted...sharp. Not in the tart way, but in the 'This is like drinking sand' kind of way. “<strong>You can spend your own credits on booze if you want; that's why you get paid. I'm not your mom, so no handouts.</strong>” She shrugged, whistling at the Asari behind the bar and tapping her now-empty glass for a refill. She may complain about drinking the cheapest Turian alcohol available, but she also didn't want anything top shelf. That was reserved for Arcus when he woke up properly...<br/><br/>"<strong>Jorgal Drack, I assume. You're the only Krogan who should be awake enough to drink right now, and I remember the ticket. Can I offer you some shitty alcohol?</strong>" She saw the Barkeeper seem annoyed at the surly Turian's words, but Flo just waved it off. She wasn't in her cups yet, but she was clearly in a less-than-pleasant mood.