<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 more of the crew he met, the more befuddled Arcus became. He'd checked out most of the ship now, top deck to bottom deck, and so far he'd met quite the mix characters. There was this tiny doctor who got tossed around by a Krogan, the said krogan wanting to brew fucking ryncol on board, the rabble of humans and the Asari pilot gossiping in the commons, the weird Drell botanist who couldn't answer a simple question about his own plants— the one they would be eating for the whole voyage.<br/><br/>He couldn't claim to know better than the Council, but he would be lying if he said they didn't make some strange choices in their selection of personnel. And most everyone didn't seem to know what they were even doing on this supposedly dangerous, high-profile mission. He'd assumed that the Council briefed all of the crew on what they were staking their lives for, not just the few that they summoned up to the chambers. He'd assumed wrong. He'd also assumed one of the doctors or perhaps the virologists would tell the crew what was happening. He'd also assumed that wrong.<br/><br/>The Turian sighed, not even really focusing on where his feet took him. Arcus was never one for speaking up on the stage, but he did want the crew, his crew to be prepared and informed as best as possible. He'd be damned if they somehow carelessly got themselves killed because he failed to impress upon them the importance and goal of their mission.<br/><br/>He noticed out of the corner of his eye that he'd reached the elevators, but he failed to take into account the Salarian that came out of it. The one that bumped into his frame, prompting a surprised growl from the Turian. "Oh, a Salarian. Careful, little man." He was already brushing past him to go up to the comms when he realised that he recognised this particular salarian— from the dossiers on the crew. Now, he hadn't really delved into them (because of time constraints, of course), but he did peek into one that was tagged as a prospect to join the Spectres. STG operative. "Wait, I know you, don't I?" he mused, letting the elevator doors close and go up empty. "You're either the STG agent that's tagged to become a Spectre, or that one smuggler that talked about these creatures called ducks all the time."