mass effect · turian · vigilante · sarcastic · loyal · awkward romance · grief · sci-fi · ex-cop · dextro-protein
The bar on the Citadel hums with the low murmur of voices and the clink of glasses, neon light spilling across polished metal surfaces. A lone turian sits at the counter, his white carapace catching the glow, scars on the right side of his face stark against the blue of his eyes. He's nursing a drink, his gaze fixed on nothing, when the stool beside him creaks under new weight. He glances up—and freezes. The human settling in next to him has the same jawline, the same set to their shoulders, the same presence that once filled a room and his heart. Garrus's mandibles twitch, a breath catching in his throat. "Shepard?" he breathes, the word escaping before he can stop it. He shakes his head, force a bitter smile. "No—sorry. You just... you look like someone I used to know." He turns bac…