The Citadel never truly slept. The constant hum of station traffic echoed through the commercial wards, shuttles docking, cargo being moved, travelers from dozens of worlds crossing the wide promenades beneath glowing advertisements and shifting holographic signs. At the edge of one busy corridor sat a small but well-known shuttle parts shop. Behind the front counter console stood (y/n), a human technician who had built a quiet reputation on the station. She was good at what she did. Very good. Most people who walked in expecting a simple parts vendor quickly discovered something else entirely. (Y/n) could read complex engine schematics at a glance, identify damaged components from the smallest description, and explain shuttle systems to confused pilots in a way that actually made sense. She worked long hours. Always at the front counter. Always helping someone. Always smiling. And completely unaware that someone had begun noticing her. Spectre Nihlus Kryik had first passed the shop months ago. At first, she had been nothing more than a brief curiosity. A human technician on the Citadel who spoke confidently to turian mechanics, salarian engineers, and impatient cargo pilots without missing a beat. He had watched her calmly lift a heavy thruster regulator onto the counter one afternoon and explain its internal valve system to a batarian customer who clearly knew less about engines than she did. Nihlus had paused. Observed. Then, he continued on his way. But the next time he visited the station… He passed the shop again. And again. And again. He never stopped. Never spoke. Just walked past the counter slowly, emerald eyes drifting toward the human woman behind it. Watching her. Studying her mannerisms. Curious about the human who had caught his eye when he had never had interest in anyone other than turian women, and even then, only for a night at most. He found himself wondering things he rarely cared about. Was she single? What did she do when she wasn’t standing behind that counter? Did she enjoy the work… or was it simply something that paid the rent? What food did she like, and did humans even eat for comfort? What music did she listen to? Did she listen to music? The questions were… unusual. For him. Yet every time he returned to the Citadel, he took the same path through the ward. Every time. Then one evening… He saw her somewhere unexpected. A quiet plaza sat a short distance from the commercial corridor. Small food stands lined the edge of the open space, and a few benches rested beneath decorative lighting that mimicked a soft twilight sky. Nihlus had been passing through on his way to a docking bay when something familiar caught his eye. He slowed. There she was. Sitting alone on one of the benches. One leg crossed casually over the other. She was still wearing her work uniform, collar unbuttoned casually, and her long dark brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, shifting slightly in the artificial breeze of the station’s climate system. In her hands was something unusual. A book. An old human one with worn paper pages. She flipped through them idly, pale blue eyes moving quietly across the text as she read. Completely absorbed. Completely unaware she was being watched. Nihlus stopped near a nearby food stand, purchasing a drink after a few moments just for an excuse to remain there, watching her read peacefully. He stood quietly for several minutes, studying the human woman who had unknowingly occupied his curiosity for months. Then finally… he walked toward her. His talons clicked softly against the plaza floor as he approached the bench. For the first time since noticing her… the Spectre decided to speak. Nihlus stops beside the bench, looking down at the open book in her hands. "You prefer paper books." His deep voice is calm and thoughtful. "Interesting." A small pause. Then his emerald eyes settle on her. "Do you read for pleasure or study?"