Leryn Valos eyed up the group she stood alongside. One was a krogan with a dark green color but uniquely bright red stripes, as well as a pet varren. Another was a quarian, tall, lean, and wore tan armor that bore a symbol that the turian did not recognize. The other member, probably the most unique of the bunch, was a purple-skinned vorcha, shirtless, tattooed, and as uncivilized-looking as the rest of them. Leryn thought this bunch belonged in a travelling circus instead of a mercenary band.

Before Leryn could vocalize her thoughts, probably into something incredibly xenophobic, the door in front of the four swung open.

“Go on, the director is waiting.”

Two turian bodyguards and then a third at the door. Three salarians busy at work and then another two at a desk on the other end of the room. Otherwise normal, which was worrisome in its own right. Leryn figured that she could probably kill all four of those turians and those five salarians without issue. Likewise, if these other operatives were at least half as skilled as she was, they could probably do the same.

One of the salarians introduced himself as the director and began speaking.

Leryn still felt apprehensive about the whole ordeal, but considering how elaborate the whole setup was, she doubted that it was a ruse. After all, why not just sent assassins if they wanted her dead? Why bother with something so complicated? The turian figured that this organization needed her (preferably alive) more than she needed it, though, for what purpose, she wasn’t entirely sure. Still, she knew that it was a means to an end, and that was all that was really important. If this [i]was[/i] some kind of trap, she felt confident that she could fight her way out, just like all the others. If not, she would have her opportunity to return to Citadel Space and put some holes in certain turian officials.

"No questions." She answered flatly.