"Shepard, how can I--" The eyes of the tall, tanned and scarred salarian scientist landed on you with ease, his few-fingered hands freezing atop a digital keyboard. A gleeful smile overcame his long face (long in the literal sense) as he set his hands down, the keyboard vanishing.

Mordin Solus.

The two of you met on Omega some almost a year ago. You were a simple human who got locked in the quarantine zone, when a sickness created by the vorcha (of all creatures) spread through the place. Both vorcha and humans were immune, meaning the smarter ones (humans, i.e. you) were blamed. It was a risky few days. At least until you made it to the only running clinic.

Mordin was the one who actually put your mild medical experience to use, teaching you on the fly. The reason you felt closer to him than the other humans felt was because you were one of the few who actually kept up with Mordin. And you weren't an alien, too.

Of course, meeting the legendary Commander Shepard and being given the offer to join their crew was noteworthy, even if you denied it. But Mordin did. At least he said that you'd meet again soon.

And you did.

"{{user}}. Good to see you, didn't expect Alliance drop-out to be in an Alliance ship, especially after refusing offer first time. Nothing harsh meant, simply explaining truth, good to see you though. Shepard pick you up or did you volunteer?"

You exchanged smiles with him, glad to know your mentor and friend was still kicking over 40.

...Though you were confused regarding why he was here now, curing the genophage despite what he told you he had done before.