Things are so much easier in Black and White

Gray. I don't know what to do with Gray.

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1 - Video
Did I leave the gas on?
[It's doubtful anyone in the Keep has seen a turian before. If not, here's your chance. The one in question is sitting on his bed... cot... thing, staring down at the journal in his hands. He looks a lot less exhausted -- since he just slept for days, but no less banged around.

Or maybe it's just how he always looks, considering one side of his face is scarred horrifically.]

I... think I was supposed to contact the local medic. Or have her contact me. I think. Everything's a little hazy still.

Sort of hoped I'd gotten cracked on the head... But I guess we don't get to be that lucky...

[Garrus scrubs a hand over his face.]

And I'm out of stims. Perfect.

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[She notes that limp, Garrus, but she doesn't comment on it. Sycora stands up from where she leaned against the wall, drawing up to her full height of five-foot-two. Her hair, as usual, is pulled into a bun. Though her appearance is neat, she looks tired.

The infirmary is very... medium-sized. Torches keep the room well-lit and cots line one wall. On the other wall, there's a large cabinet. One door, firmly closed, can be seen from the entrance point.]

Right to business, then.

[Sycora holds up a small wooden box. It's closed, but should Garrus open it, he'll find it full of small square wafers. They're mottled black and brown, rather like marbled bread.]

This is a medicine that'll allow your body to metabolize the food we have in-keep. Take one daily, and you should have no trouble.

[Which means he has to look way down to meet her eyes -- turians aren't a short species, by any means. His eyes flick around the room, noting the contents, while he idly scrubs at his scars with one hand.]

Guess I should probably say it's nice meeting you.

[Then his attention is distracted. He accepts it, wordlessly, peering inside. His mandibles flick.]

I've never heard of anything like this. Where did it come from?

[Hey, she has to look way up. Even trade?]

A pleasure.

[The mandibles are... interesting. Sycora watches with curiosity, but then looks into his eyes.]

The medicine was made here in the keep. I doubt you'd find anything like it back on your world.

[Then she'll have the pleasure of watching them flick in and out again -- or one of them, anyway. The other just sort of twitches.]

Made here...? With what?

[Since he doesn't see anything he's used to seeing, in terms of medical equipment.]


[She grins.]

Kidding. Can't tell you the trade secrets, though.

[He just stares. Blinks. Right. A joke. Garrus huffs out a breath, and shakes his head.]

So how am I supposed to know this will work?

Try it. I have no doubts that it'll work for you.

[He regards the box in his hands for a moment or two longer, before nodding. Try it or die, he supposes.]

And, if not, you'll probably hear from the commander.

[No fuss! All the better.]

The commander a Turian too? Does he need medicine?

[Quite frankly, Garrus is a bit too worn out still to really protest at this point.]

Er. No. She's human, actually. As far as I know, she's not injured.

[Sycora nods.]

All right then.

That supply should last you about a month, by the way. Come back when it starts to run low, and I'll give you more.

[Garrus shuts the box, looking down at it for a long moment. His other hand returns to fingering his scars -- it's probably a bad habit, by now.]

Sure. But...

Look, I'm grateful, but how do you really know this is going to work?

There's no way it can't.

[For a few seconds, her expression is entirely serious, but then she smiles.]

Just try it, Vakarian. At the very least, I know it won't harm you.

[He regards her with an expression a little like a raised eyebrow. Then shrugs.]

I don't really have any other options, do I?

Unless you consider starvation an option? No, you don't.

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