FACIAL SCARS ARE SEXY

RULES biography incoming soon.

He finds space at the table, softly mimicking towards the chair opposite as he, himself, finds comfort in the booth. Wasting no time, not even allowing her proper seating before cracking open the bottle and proceeding to pour evenly into both glasses, flicking one across the table in @dutyworn's direction. ❝ Just a celebratory drink amongst friends.... ❞

Simmering growl conformed to his words even if they stood truthful, the lingering thoughts of betrayal rested heavily upon his shoulder, that some important information was withheld from him at the briefing. Whether he liked it or not, the mission still needed to be seen to its completion; there'd be another time to lay blame upon halted tongues sooner or later. Just like a switch being flicked on from the question, his demeanour fractured into brutal hostilities. No longer taking his leave upon the outskirts of the room, helm slightly atilt from the question, proceeding to approach the other with much more purpose than before. ❝ If I told you, I'd have to kill you... ❞ the turian answered through gritted teeth, face pushed as close to the other as possible before a narrowed smile and light-spirited push on the shoulder breaks the briefest of façades.

He figured it'd be a false alarm like always, a lost pyjak or varren wandering in through one of the openings in the experimental wing again. The salarian's had vacated their stations for the day as the hangar lies as dormant as the heart that no longer beats before the turian resuscitated the building in a distorted flicker of light. ❝ I'm fond of a suicide mission myself, but stealing from C-Sec, really, you must really have a death wish. ❞ the marksman advised, pacing the depths of the open halls, arms folding to rest against his armour before kicking a leg up against the wall behind. He halted for a moment as radio chatter reverberated in his ear for a check-up on the situation. There was a brief hesitation to his answer, side-eying @cheatdeaths before affirming their previous suspicions to be correct. He severs the link to command before his attention shifts back to the other. ❝ And it appears you do... It's funny, I met a drell who said the same thing some time ago... I like to think he was content with the world he left behind for his son, though, I never did get the chance to ask. ❞ he admits, a tingling sensation awakening in the turian's mandibles, each passing word adding to the lump growing on the back of his throat. Hands thrust open towards the ship in an offering, hoping the answer were to be the sensible one. No bloodshed, no death.

It was still fresh from the kill, his trusted rifle shifted precariously through coarse digits before coming to rest upon his shoulder, clouds of smoke exuding copiously from the barrel that had already taken so many lives previously. ❝ Typical humans... it's never just a thank you. You save their life and the first thing they do is question your timing, ❞ the turian states with an acerbic hum in his voice, making his daunting presence increasingly obvious. While there may be no disservice on his part, that didn't mean he couldn't make his own enjoyment out of the situation, even if it meant at the fleshlings expense. He afforded them a brief glance before shifting back to the carcass lying motionless on the floor. Holstering his weaponry, a kick to the ribs helps resurface the fading essence of the Geth intruder, a foot instantly clamping down on its chest like a vice, refusing to relent. A pistol surfaces at the first signs of a fight, acting without thought, without remorse, planting a bullet square in the centre of its head. ❝ Besides, I've always been one for the dramatic entrance. Always keep them guessing, you know? ❞ One last kick sends the corpse tumbling against the wall, sighting @serpidor just inside his periphery.

𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 / #𝐕𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 Independent, private, low activity, multi-verse friendly and highly selective blog for Garrus Vakarian of the Mass Effect franchise calibrated by Tup.