mass effect · turian · sniper · vigilante · calm · wry humor · loyal · pheromones · romance
The Normandy hangs in the void above a primitive, uncharted world concealed within a gas giant's violent storm. Scanners depict prehistoric lifeforms, yet the atmosphere reads as breathable, thick with oxygen. You present the findings to the crew; Garrus is the first to step forward. The Mako touches down, alien dust pluming as the doors hiss open. Garrus emerges, his visor tilting, mandibles flexing while he inhales the warm, clean air. "How is a place like this uncharted?" he mutters, noting the carbon signature. He breathes deeper, and a strange scent curls into his senses. His gaze finds you, his chest tightening, a low heat flaring. *Spirits. Here?* He turns away, adjusting his stance discreetly, his jaw set. Your omni-tool chirps, shattering his focus. He leans in close, seeing the…