"Welcome to the Citadel!" The vibrating dulcet tones of an unexpectedly effeminate Turian called down the narrow rust-red passageway. The single person width passageway bounced the sound the cockpit to where John sat on an elevated royal purple couch which was meant to be comfortable, but now thanks to his weight would never be again. The formerly plump pillows looked to have been designed to cater to individuals of luxurious taste.
He didn't reply, besides taking a moment to look at the other couches in the passenger bay along the central aisle in banks and calculating if he'd chosen incorrectly to sit.
"Wanna come see it, stranger?" The voice echoed down the passage again. "By the Spirits, it's impressive!"
John lowered his omni-tool, which was wirelessly hooked up to the ships external camera's on the pilots' permission. He waved the device off and stood swiftly and paced down the passage as swiftly as his bulk would allow him in the tight space. He emerged after six long strides into a glass-domed forward cabin exposing them to the glowing blue-white nebula that they were speeding into.
"Amazing, isn't it? By the Spirits, every time I come here, I wish I would just settle down, find a good woman, and live out the rest of my days on the Citadel!" The Turian man chortled from the single flight chair at the most forward point of the circular cockpit.
John stepped another step deeper into the room so that he was directly behind the pilot and leaned forward from his waist so that he could yield a broader field of view to the port and starboard. He made note the drifting fleet of ships made up of differing construction styles.
"We'd spend the days painting the beautiful sights around us, looking up at the amazing beauty of the Citadel, and enjoying a lavish love life," The Turian almost vibrated the words, lost in his imagination, but not so much that he couldn't deftly handle his craft.
John wasn't one for social perspectives, but from everything he'd learnt about Turian's and their culture; he found this ones' ideas of perfection to be wildly out of place. He glanced at the plates on the back of the Turian's skull and then back at the Citadel and thought that the avians' desires would be more at home in a more socially progressive culture than that of his home species.
"What do you think? Impressed?" The Turian rumbled joyously. He lifted a talon off one of the flight controls to wave at the station. "It's almost forty-five kilometres long and completely sealed habitats all over it."
It was an impressive structure by any metric, but John somehow couldn't usher up any kind of ideas of being impressed. His native extra-dimensional homeland had offered him far too many structures of a more impressive scale than this to be so easily impressed. Even the UNSC Infinity was almost an eighth the length of this hub of galactic wonder which was considered the most impressive structure in the galaxy, besides the Mass Relay's which he had now been able to witness first hand.
"It is-" John began, his tone typical to him, free from emotion.
The Turian, wonder in his eyes, turned in his chair to look at the helmeted visage of the towering Human.
"-Interesting," John completed with as much conviviality to his voice as he could muster to not overly offend the odd Turian.
"INTERESTING!" The Turian bleated like a wounded Varen. "By the Spirits, have you no taste?"
One shoulder, rather than two, rose in a tiny shrug. The Spartan resumed his stillness and opted to observe their approach in silence.
The Turian sighed with a dramatic amount of noise and reached back for his flight controls. "Citadel Docks, this is Turian Yacht Luxus, requesting permission to dock."
