who ; Thane Krios & whoever is at what's left of Normandy Haus.
what ; Returning from disposal of the Marker, Thane immediately goes to work at cleaning up what's left at base.
where ; The haus formerly known as Normandy.
when ; Sometime after the Marker's gone.
warning(s) ; None at this time!
(
just another restless day )
Comments 26
"Ah. Found a use for that, then?" He's vaguely amused, a bit annoyed, a bit rattled.
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"I did, against my preference," Thane answers. "I apologize for not asking first, but I was a bit pressed for time."
A faint tilt of his head. "Would you like some help?" Not necessary; he's certain Mordin has complete control over his own tools and the like, but Thane does bear some guilt for not finding a way to keep control over the situation.
Not in his job description, but in a manner of human phrasing... things pretty much went to hell.
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"No, thank you. Should be able to manage." He sets the box down, looks Thane over.
"Hope you are in decent physical condition. Was wondering; why cut Motoko out of communications? Understand that she is not precisely desirable, assume there is specific reason"
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"--Everyone sees a person. Someone they cherish. Dead and gone. You simply appear to me, siha. All spoken in a whisper. I know it is not possible, my Irikah living--
--But she touches me. The sensation is real. Thane. I'm here.--
--I realize too late when I step through the teleporter. Too many fingers, skin too soft. It's not her. Motoko knocks me out--"
A calmer moment. Thane concentrates, then looks at Mordin. "Two reasons. First, she pretended to be my deceased wife in order to coerce me somewhere. The other was to perform surgery on me. I am no longer ill. I am perfectly healthy. Although I have no reason to celebrate."
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Ah well, it's as good a place as any for field research as any I guess. At least he has less chance of being seen.
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So, from the whatever is left of the nearest patch of shrubbery, Pleakley watches. His hiding skills are pretty good for mediocre, and they're topped only by his ability to handle a pair of binoculars. Holding them sideways, and squinting out the end of one, he watches the guy from what he realises was probably a commercial. Not a movie.
It's sad how the media industry takes advantage of people like this.
"He seems to be foraging for scraps..." Pleakley mutters to himself. "A possible mating ritual?"
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Silently, he pulls out his pistol and points calmly at what's left of.
A bush.
Hm.
"I suggest you reveal yourself. I do not make a habit of missing when I shoot."
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DON'T SHOOT I'M PART OF THE MOSQUITO FOOD CHAIN!
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