It had been around three weeks since the event, he never talked about, he went through his work like a mad man, not wanting to think for one minute. If he was thinking, he would be thinking about the night, the blood, the pain. He still had issues with his lower plates. He went to well a doctor, discretely of course, nobody can know about this. One problem he had while his plates were not closing, he leaked. Not that he like made a mess, he still had enough control, but it leaked. One good thing, he always had pants on that were double layered. So nobody would see the mess he would make sometimes.
It still hurt as well, sitting down was harder and he really liked how he could stand all day and nobody would give a damn. The worst was the memory of the blood, not his own, he forgot that after a while, no the blood from the bodyguards - people who were supposed to protect him - as Clavius had killed them, one by one. His room was still more like a crime scene than anything else. Blood on the bed, the floor, the walls. Turian parts on the ceiling, brainmatter everywhere. But he felt nothing towards their death, he didn’t feel anger or pitty. Sparatus felt nothing.
Clavius was always with him, always making sure he would get up and get to his job, he never came too close, he had respect and despite how everyone thought he might be the one to betray him. He was the one who actually saved him. As Sparatus came back to his office after a long day, he was exhausted but more so mentally. He stopped in his tracks when he opened the door and saw Saren, one of the spectre standing there. The door to the room...open. His subvocals panicked for a moment as he still stared at Saren.
“Saren...are you back so soon?”
