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                   “–Commander.”

   There was formality in his approach, a somberness in his hooded eyes and the hard set of his mandibles.  He stopped a respectful distance away, arms folded in the military fashion behind his rigid back, spine ramrod straight. 

   “I have a request."  The faint flush of hesitancy seeps through his subvocals, belying his otherwise unyielding demeanor. "A personal request, and one which I have little right to ask.  For once, it isn’t duty that drives me, but it’s…the need of a grieving father.  Today would have been Tarquin’s birthday.  His last, we spent apart, each of us serving in different clusters." 

  He met her eyes with an even stare, regardless of the raw content of his words. "I would be humbled if you would help me honor his memory.  You allowed him to make the turians proud – to make me proud.”

August  12   ( 8 )   +
HW