A Time to Mourn...and a time to make merry.
The Normandy's Commander was conspicuously absent...and others knew it. The shore party of Liara and James, who had been sent back...the Krogans on the ground still.
Electra Camilla Shepard had slipped away into the shadows, and now she stood on a rock face about a hundred and fifty feet off the ground, overlooking where the Tomkahs had been before...where the Shroud had been.
There hadn't been time to mourn, the passing of a genius. But he was more than a genius, more than a top salarian STG operative. More than the creator of the genophage, or having a big hand in it.
Mordin Solus was her friend...and she wished there had been a way to save him. Wished that she could have brought him out alive. Not because he would have been an asset to the Crucible...but because he was one of her crew. And just like with Ashley...death of those close to her was a bitter pill to swallow.
Thus ensconced in her reverie, she would not hear someone's approach...