[Citadel] Fly On The Wall (extremely very open)

Five feet above the ground, there flew a tiny black hexapod making its way in this world of bright lights, giant lumbering creatures with not enough legs, anomalous pieces of air that looked like any other, but stubbornly refused to let anything through. It could even be landed on and poked with a tiny foreleg, to no avail.

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Buzz. Bzzzzz.

Aaaand land. Well then. Rough-ish surface, easy enough to... ooo, look at that. A layer of... hang on, that looks edible! Om nom nom nom.
Nom nom.
Nom nom HOLY HELL IT'S MOVING AAAAAAARGH

Okay. Oooookay. Just fly away, onto that vertical surface over there. It'll be fine...

What is that gargantuan creature?

Face buried in a pillow, Sarah was completely oblivious to the fly buzzing about. Rolling onto her side, the woman slowly stirred, due knock on the door. Pushing herself up to a sit and pulling her shirt on, the woman groaned, checking her omnitool. "Fuck- FUCK!" She hissed, falling out of bed and smashing her head on the nightstand, a nasty scrape forming from her impact with the nightstand handle.

Rolling onto her back once more, the woman pressed her hands into her bleeding forehead. "FUCK ME!" She screamed in pain. "FUCKING-"

At the door, Chris looked over to an associate, hearing Sarah scream the F-Word again and again. With a hesitation, she knocked on the door once more. "Just a minute!" Cried the woman inside. After what felt like ten, Sarah opened up the door with a bandage wrapped around her skull. "Oh! Hey. Glad you could make it." The woman spoke with only a touch of sarcasm.

"A pleasure to see you, Sarah." Chris grumbled, passing into the apartment.

The fly likely was completely oblivious to the protracted conversation and visitation-handoff that ensued- But the door was ajar.

Very ajar.

And off we go. Buzzzzzzz.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzland. Huh.
That's a thing.

Warp after warp after warp after warp crashed into the small Krogan's barriers and they didn't even flicker, not until that damned fly showed up. It would just buzz in front of him, begging him to lose concentration. He ignored it and commanded the trainees to try again. It was a pretty sweet little side gig he had picked up, instructing Hierarchy biotics- there was that damn fly again. It landed on Isadore's foreplate, right above his eye. With one hand he put up a barrier between himself and the onslaught of warps and with the other, he created a tiny orb of power around the fly and flung it away from him.

My turn whelps! Isadore began the next phase of training

The proposed new classification system involves the rating of baseline power and fine control, quantified using the Yora-Neqzt formulae [see here for details]...

Swat. Missed.
Bloody thing.

This will necessitate a range of tests, both amplified and unamplified...

Swat.
Damn.
Swat.
Bugger.
Depressingly, having a go at this fly was more entertaining than the proposed legislation Emile was trying to force himself to read through. Not a lot he could do about it if the law was changed, except maybe whine about it to his boss.

...a thorough examination of nodules and the implant systems in place...

It just stank of someone trying to make work for themselves and make themselves look useful so they wouldn't be laid off if the Alliance decided it needed to cut back on non-essentials.
Swat.
"Stay still, y'bollocks!"
Swat.
Evidently refusing to take the hint, the insect decided instead to buzz off through the window he'd left open.

Lacking another distraction, Emile turned back to the terminal screen.
Fucking Mondays.

Officer T'Jurali might have well been the most annoying person Maiha had so far met on the Citadel. 'By the goddess' this and 'by the goddess' that, in almost every single damned conversation. Made her want to go beg the boss to get the processing shift, just to get away from her. But alas, she was stuck with T'Jurali as a partner as they did a foot patrol through the streets of Tayseri Ward. Were they really streets? This was a space station afterall. But then, what did you call them? Weren't quite corridors like in some parts of the Wards-

"Soo," T'Jurali drew the word out and Maiha grimly prepared herself for the next thing out of her mouth, "I know this hanar, right." Oh goddess, please put me out of my misery now, "Have you ever dated a hanar?"

"No." Maybe if she yelled out 'thief' or something she could escape in the ensuing chaos!

"Surely you're curious, at least."

That was when the fly started buzzing around her head, making her grit her teeth, "No," She managed in between slaps at the elusive fly, "Not really."

T'Jurali gave her something close to an aggrieved glare, "That's a little speciest, don't you think?"

In between swats, Maiha observed gloomily that it was only eleven o'olock. She still had ten hours of her shift to go.

Buzzsaw recoiled back from the impact of the right hook and brought his bloodied, wrapped fists up to a fighter's stance. He threw a punch of his own, smashing his opponent in the jaw. His opponent recoiled back into the surrounding crowd and wiped at his bloodied mouth with his forearm.

"You're not shit, Buckner. You hit like a little girl. You have little girl fists." The man spat out a mix of blood and sputum, then charged in and punched Buzzsaw again, this time in the eye. Buzzsaw took the impact, grabbed the man by the arm, and headbutted him unconscious, the man tumbling to the dirty floor. A referee raised Buzzsaw's hand in victory, much to the man's joy.

The defeated man slowly stood up, applied a unit of medi-gel for his face, and put his uniform's shirt back onto his torso. "If that'll be everything, I've got a heart surgery to get to in an hour." The man stumbled out of the building, letting a small fly out. Buzzsaw threw his arms into the air in celebration, only to be interrupted by the arrival of a volus with a busted left optic.

"Hsssk.. Buzzsaw. It's me. I presume you think I was dead after the Bogota circuit. You were wrong."