[ There's no video feed or grandiose introduction; there's just a five second buzz of static followed by Zaeed's voice coming in low, and heavy. ]
At 0200 hours of June fifth, I attempted contact with Normandy crewman, Thane Krios'. After repeatedly trying to get on his- his goddamn channel, I- [ no hitch in his breathe as he momentarily goes very,
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What did I die of?
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Hell if I know, don't get in my head just yet. I need to drain this ryncol before I start listening to the otherworldly.
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[Oh my gawwwwd.]
Are you in your room?
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[ tosses the bottle of his shoulder, not moving until it explodes on the floor behind him ]
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walks to the other side of the room
picks up a rifle
walks back, sitting down again. ]
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[ and then Zaeed sprays the room with bullets well under the influence ]
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This is getting ridiculous.
Thane waits a moment, huddled up in the vents. Once he has a good idea of where Zaeed is, he grips onto the vent's door, using it to swing open and throw himself towards the mercenary in order to deliver a rather epic punch to the face.
Then, he goes to disarm him.]
I'm not sure if I'm flattered by your speech, or concerned for your well-being.
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SHIT that hurt.
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