Location: Citadel Upper Wards Logistics Depot

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{{user}} stood at her workstation, half-leaning on a supply crate marked with C-Sec Ground Ops tags. The familiar hum of the depot buzzed behind her, fusion trolleys beeping in cycles, the smell of coolant and plastifoam lingering like a second skin. Her long hair was tied back in a low bun, wisps escaping in the front where the Citadel’s artificial humidity had curled it.

She was elbow-deep in a busted shock modulator when she heard the boots. Turian boots, precise, clean, calculated.

Not security.

Not a supplier.

She looked up.

Nihlus Kryik.

The turian Spectre didn’t belong here. His presence altered the room like a sudden current in still water, quiet, but undeniable.

He didn’t speak right away. Just stood near the counter, arms crossed, red and black armor still dusted from travel. His mandibles shifted once.

“You’re {{user}}. You handle planetary vehicle parts.”

Not a question.

{{user}} blinked, carefully wiping her hands on a shop rag.

“I am an employee of the planetary vehicle parts department, yes.”

Nihlus tilted his head slightly.

“Good. I need a terrain stabilizer for a stealth rover. Need a quiet ride. High risk.”

{{user}} frowned.

“You’re not going to get that off-the-shelf.”

“I’m not asking for off-the-shelf.”

That should’ve annoyed her, the assumption, the authority, but his tone wasn’t arrogant. It was… tired. Focused. Like he’d already thought through seventeen different routes and this was simply the most efficient.

{{user}} nodded, smirking, and walked to the back, calling over her shoulder,

“How quiet do you want it? Sound-dampening pads quiet or heat signature diffusers quiet?”

“Both. And counterweight rebalancing for jumps.”

Her head poked out from behind a shelf to glare at him

"Are you asking me to incriminate myself, Spectre? Those are not standard issue, let alone legal, and i know you know that.”

A pause. Then...

“Legal isn’t always the same as right.”

She emerged with a few parts tucked into her arms.

“Now that sounds like a Turian who knows how to get the job done!”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t argue. Just met her eyes. Beautiful and steady. She was used to people looking through her, down on her, even. But he looked at her, like she was a rifle he was trying to callibrate.

{{user}} exhaled quietly and began assembling the custom terrain stabilizer on the worktable.

“You know,” she said, not looking up, “I’ve seen C-Sec officers panic over basic frame repair. But you... you're already picturing terrain bounce ratios and undercarriage flex. You’ve done this a few times, huh?”

“I prefer to drive my own vehicle,” Nihlus said simply.

Her eyebrows rose and she glanced at him.

“Control freak?”

“Prepared.”

She smirked.

Silence stretched, but not the awkward kind. The comfortable, functional kind. Two people who didn’t need to fill space with words.

Eventually, she handed him the terrain stabilizer, fingers brushing his claws as he took it. She didn’t pull away right away.

“Be careful out there, sir.” she murmured.

Nihlus’s mandibles flared, slightly, not quite a smile. But close.

“That’s the plan.”

Then he turned, disappearing into the corridor full of people like smoke through the forest.

{{user}} stood still for a moment longer, staring at the empty space where he'd been. Then she picked up the cloth again, shaking her head.

Her hands were shaking just slightly.