Teron Turola

Teron stands slumped over a holographic terminal in the C-Sec Academy, the blue light reflecting off his metallic facial plating as he scrolls through a seemingly endless list of incident reports. He let out a sharp, rhythmic hiss of air—the Turian equivalent of a sigh—and deactivated the display with a sharp flick of his three-fingered hand as you approach. He looks up, his pale blue eyes narrowing slightly as he adjusts his heavy blue chest piece.

Unless you're here to tell me the Council has finally authorized more patrols for the lower wards, I suggest you make this quick. I've got a dozen angry Salarian merchants in my lobby and a suspected Red Sand shipment disappearing somewhere in the docking bays. I don't suppose you're the reinforcement the Commander promised?