Ellis confirmed he was okay, and expressed concern over the loose cannon Rykarn had subdued. Considering she immediately carried on like nothing happened, like the past two minutes were but a fever dream, the krogan simply shrugged, holstering his weapon as calmer heads prevailed. Lumbering on the scene was another krogan, an older and no doubt distinguished one, that prompted Rykarn to nod respectfully at his kin. It was good to see another krogan, especially if this was a potential job offer... or an ambush. Life was full of mysteries, that much was certain.

The batarian Ja'Far was trying to regain damage control of the situation, which so far had been somewhat less than effective. Rykarn felt for the guy; he was getting rather agitated. Before Rykarn could address the guy, a new voice caught his attention with a commanding and very assertive tone of voice that suggested he was none too happy about the situation. The krogan immediately took notice of the N7 designation on the armour; Alliance special operations. He could never remember what the number meant, since he'd only ever seen N7 or N5 marines running amok during the war, but it didn't much matter; this human was clearly the one who invited them all here. To what end?

[i][color=lightgray]Why are you surprised the 'krogan gun-for-hire' was the reasonable one? You know enough about me to think I'm worth meeting.[/color][/i] Rykarn mulled over with a terse smile, not wishing to interrupt the potential new client.

A turian joined the human, evidently partners, and there was nothing about his armour that gave the krogan a clue of what he represented. He was a disciplinarian, like most turian officers, a no-nonsense sort that called people under his command out on their inability to perform adequately. It was grating at first when Rykarn first was deployed alongside turians, but the results paid off; turians were excellent fighters who aimed to completely destroy the enemy down to a man if they could get away with it. They didn't break or shy away from hardship, they just got more pissed off and resolved. It was admirable. 

And the truth came out; Spectres. There was always a hunch, but Spectres weren't always obvious until they started pulling strings. Anderson and Partinax, an odd couple. Rykarn suspected that the two of them weren't as chummy as they appeared at first glance; they both seemed to be dealing with the situation in very different ways and alternating with their approach. He knew from working with Phrixus that Spectres usually preferred to operate independently, and these two didn't seem like they'd been meshing together for years. For one, Anderson was still pretty young for a human, and it wasn't until the last months of the Reaper war did the Council start appointing more than one human Spectre. 

The job offer was laid out pretty plain; risk your life for lack of compensation, recognition, or incentive past being a good person. That wasn't what interested the krogan; wherever Spectres went, interesting things were to follow. It sure beat the hell out of clearing rubble and breaking up looters for a meager wage. It really wasn't a choice at all.

And so, Rykarn stepped forward next to the geth. 

[color=lightgray]"You two know who I am, this lot doesn't. Rykarn of clan Ravanor, heavy weapons specialist. I'm in on one condition, and that's salvage claim. Anything worth while discovered in the field, I want a potion of the profits that come with it. I know personally you Spectres pay fast food wages."[/color] Rykarn said, grinning ruefully.