<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: Florinthia 'Flo' Legiticus (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=329085.msg15779216#msg15779216) </span></strong><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> Casual synthetic top and 'pants' with a nice brown jacket. (https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ee/10/f7/ee10f772225f872df8cc7c242d7e19ec.jpg)</strong><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">LOCATION:</span></strong>Kalanhai Upper Deck | Engineering<br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial black;">CONTENT:</span></strong>The fall.<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/>"<strong>Florinthia.</strong>" She said as matter-of-factly as possible. She had no particular biases against Humanity like so many of her kith and kin, but she also had no particular love for them. They were solid rivals for Turians, and at least they were better to look at than most of the other races. She was taking a moment to absorb the requisition form request he'd put in, glancing between it and the amp that this man was showing off. It was solid work, to be sure, but she wondered why he was doing something like this on a mission. This was Research and Development shit, not a suitable hobby...Right? "<strong>Has someone requested this Amp from you, Malcolm? It seems unusual to pursue this sort of...</strong>" She paused for a moment, trying to find the right word. In the end, she went with what her first instinct was; as opposed to censoring herself. ".<strong>..Hobby? Hobby. It seems odd to do work on a hobby piece and...</strong>"<br/><br/>There was an awkward moment as she looked up at the Human, his arm flexing pleasantly across his chest. Not because she was struck by some strange attraction, or some feeling of love-at-first sight, no. The oddness; the awkwardness came because between blinks he started to turn at a fourty-five degree angle. One second he was standing before her, a little sheepish looking and the next? He was leaning at an impossible angle and...<br/><br/><em><strong>Thunk!</strong></em><br/><br/>With a loud crash, the Turian was brought back to the reality of it all. Malcolm wasn't defying gravity, she had briefly blanked out and fainted. Thankfully she had altered her position as she started to blank so that she didn't crash into anything, instead falling onto her side and curling into a ball. The world was spinning, and her face was a hot flush that would probably have been a mural of embarrassment to a Turian. To a human, she had a bit of flushing red and pink flesh behind the white mandibles on her face. Briefly, she was reminded of how recently she'd been let off of bedrest, and the words of a particularly sassy doctor warning her that 'If she didn't listen to her advice, she'd be brought back into Isolation and forced to stay there for the next few days.'<br/><br/>Slowly, groggily, the Turian woman righted herself on one arm. Her other hand was grasping at her temple, struggling to stop the world from spinning as she groaned something incomprehensible and bordering on a curse against the spirits. "<strong>Whatever shit-eating bastard gave me this stupid Dextro-virus on the Citadel; I swear if I get my talons on them...</strong>"