[ Noh-Varr shakes his head, spreads his empty hands as if to exemplify the paper-thinness of his knowledge. ]
I don't know, Garrus. But hesitation in battle is a grave dishonor, and neither of them is dishonorable. Their devotion would have fueled them.
[ In other words, he doesn't believe Armada's chances are very good. It's upsetting; he remembers the faint aurora-blue pattern of light against the instructor's throat, seen up close when Armada had leaned his head against his. He likes Armada, his expertise, his easy demeanor.
Gently, he reaches forward, fingers tracing the front of Garrus' armor, but doesn't bridge the gap between them. His hand is perfectly still, as if from marble. His focus is intense. He stays like that for a moment, contemplating his emotions, wondering. Worrying about him is an insult to his capacities. But to claim there is hope is an insult to Warriorhead's strength. ]
You spoke with Warriorhead. [ A statement, not a question. ] What did he tell you?
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I don't know, Garrus. But hesitation in battle is a grave dishonor, and neither of them is dishonorable. Their devotion would have fueled them.
[ In other words, he doesn't believe Armada's chances are very good. It's upsetting; he remembers the faint aurora-blue pattern of light against the instructor's throat, seen up close when Armada had leaned his head against his. He likes Armada, his expertise, his easy demeanor.
Gently, he reaches forward, fingers tracing the front of Garrus' armor, but doesn't bridge the gap between them. His hand is perfectly still, as if from marble. His focus is intense. He stays like that for a moment, contemplating his emotions, wondering. Worrying about him is an insult to his capacities. But to claim there is hope is an insult to Warriorhead's strength. ]
You spoke with Warriorhead. [ A statement, not a question. ] What did he tell you?