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[hider=Clyff's AI Interview][h3][color=#B77600]The Andromeda Initiative Offices on the Citadel[/color][/h3][hr][color=#B77600][i]circa 2184[/i][/color]

The recruitment office for the Andromeda Initiative was about as clean and shiny as a robot’s ass. Clyff couldn’t help himself, as he sat in the waiting room, he moved a vase towards the edge of the table. The receptionist eyed him. Her sterile white gown, headpiece, and condescending glare culminated down to: don’t you dare. Clyff didn’t shove it off or anything. He just let it sit there and then drummed on knees.

The receptionist touched her headset, the light emanating from it was a sharp blue. “He's ready to see you, Mr. Ward.

He placed his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. [color=#B77600]“About fucking time.”[/color] 

The woman ignored him and went back to her screen, probably relieved. She’d been less than happy when he showed up in citizen clothes. Apparently, this was supposed to be a very rigid interview. He hadn’t pulled out his Alliance suit, he wore that practically every day, and today was his off day. So, boots, jeans, a tacky Hawaiian shirt (hey, he tucked it in), and his hair a bit bed-ruffled was what she got.

If he thought the interviewer would be any better, he thought wrong. He was younger than Clyff and sat behind a clear desk, his screen easily viewed from the other side as he slid his fingers over the tiles, glancing at the Gunnery Chief only for a second. His hair was black and shiny, he was clean-shaven, and there was a light scent of some flower that filled the room. Clyff sat across from him in a chair that was made to hold a small child. He tried to get comfortable, only for the thing to groan and whine at his weight.

[color=#B77600]“Fucking piece of shit,”[/color] Clyff grumbled.

“Right, let’s start with that,” the interviewer said. Clyff could see that he pulled up the man’s disciplinary record. It wasn’t lengthy, but the notes in it did have a lot of red lettering. “It says that you’re prone to sudden fits of anger and violence.”

[color=#B77600]“Yeah,”[/color] Clyff said, pointing to the bridge of his nose that was knotted with scar tissue. [color=#B77600]“How do you think I got this sweet ass honker.”[/color]

“Yes, I’ve been reading about your extensive injury list.” He tapped something on his screen.

[color=#B77600]“Well, when you decide on a career in shooting assholes in the face, you’re met with a lot of bullets and explosions.”[/color] He then held his finger up, [color=#B77600]“except for this,”[/color] he opened his mouth up, pointing to the braces on the backs of his teeth. [color=#B77600]“I took a krogan to the face.”[/color]

The interviewer paused and held his pen above the screen. “And what exactly happened there?”

Clyff smirked. [color=#B77600]“I’m not talking about a sexual maneuver or anything. Though, I’d be down for any species, with the exception of--”[/color]

“That’s fine Mr. Ward.”

Clyff went on, ignoring the man. [color=#B77600]“Elcor. You know how odd that would be?”[/color] He starts imitating their flat drone, [color=#B77600]“ [i]’With forced enthusiasm, you’re great in bed.’[/i] Boom All the romance, gone.”[/color] He was joking. He couldn’t stand the both literal and figurative wedgie this entire experience was giving him.

The interviewer exhaled, sliding over a few more tiles. Now he was in Clyff’s experience. Now [i]that[/i] was a list. He scrolled down to something that the Gunnery Chief knew would come up. “It says here you were present on Torfan.” The man leaned in, pressing his elbows on the flat glass table. “Tell me, how has that affected you?”

[color=#B77600]“Well, I took mine to the face. So, that accounts for this,”[/color] he pointed to the metal staple in his ear and the long gouge across his mouth and cheek, [color=#B77600]“and I also have a hearing aid for the tinnitus.”[/color]

“I mean psychologically.” 

[color=#B77600]“Right.”[/color] He shrugged. [color=#B77600]“I mean, I’m going to avoid moons that rhyme with ‘orphan,’ but other than that I’m fine.”[/color] He may not have been entirely fine, but he wasn’t going to snap at the slightest mention of the mission. Unlike many of his fellow Alliance Navy members, he hadn’t seen the worst of it.

The man lowered his voice, “Batarians are going to be on arks, as well, Mister Ward. Are you hostile towards them?”

[color=#B77600]“Are they being hostile towards me?”[/color]

“This isn’t a hypothetical situation, Mr. Ward.” The interviewer bored his young, soft eyes into Clyff’s own narrowed ones.

[color=#B77600]“Oh,”[/color] Clyff said, dragging it out. [color=#B77600]“You’re asking me if I’m racist. Nah. But, I mean, it’s kind of hard to be nice to Batarians. They’re always so aggressive.”[/color]

“So are you, Mr. Ward.”

[color=#B77600]“Fair,”[/color] he said with a shrug.

The interviewer closed out Clyff’s record and brought up a blank screen, and a keyboard formed underneath the man’s fingers. “Now onto to the important question. Why do you want to join the Andromeda Initiative?”

Clyff’s cocky smirk dissipated and he focused on the window behind the interviewer, towards the Citadel. His gaze became distant. [color=#B77600]“My daughter.”[/color]

[hr][color=#B77600][i]6 years previously…[/i][/color]

Isabella stood at the top of a small step ladder, placing an ornament on the very plastic, very non-tree-like Christmas tree. She backed off the ladder and looked it over. “Look even to you?” she asked, turning back to Clyff. He wasn’t looking at the tree. He was looking at her.

[color=#B77600]“Yeah,”[/color] he said, taking a swig of beer.

“You aren’t even looking at it, you big oaf.” She rolled her eyes. “I have no idea why we are doing this. There’s aliens. There’s Protheans. There’s space travel. If it isn’t more obvious there is no God, I have no idea what would convince you.”

[color=#B77600]“Now Izzy,”[/color] he said, lowering his beer on their coffee table. [color=#B77600]“You know I come from an Irish-Catholic family. There will [i]always[/i] be a God.”[/color]

“Even if a magical space deity appears and defames your Earth god as nothing but trivial nonsense?”

[color=#B77600]“[i]Especially[/i] if that happens.”[/color] He smiled. [color=#B77600]“My mother would shake her head and go ‘I don’t believe you. Bring back the angry one with the beard and uncompromising rules about living your life.’”[/color]

Isabella snorted out a laugh. “Fair enough.” She looked back at the tree. “But I like decorating the tree. It’s oddly comforting.” She sighed. “But [i]so[/i] tacky. You better be happy that I like dumb and ugly things.” 

[color=#B77600]“Awe,”[/color] he said, acting upset. [color=#B77600]“That’s so mean.”[/color]

“But it’s so true,” she crooned with a smile. It dissipated for a second--but only for a second as Clyff swooped in and took her hand and placed his other on her waist. “W-what are you doing?” she asked.

[color=#B77600]“I love this song,”[/color] he said to the Christmas song playing in the background. It had been the same song for at least two minutes now, but he didn’t care. Anything to have her in his arms. She smiled at let him lead as they danced around their living room that was far too small for anything other than a prom waddle. But it was a graceful prom waddle.

Isabella placed her head on his chest. “I’m still amazed that you know how to dance.”

[color=#B77600]“Well, it was me and my sisters growing up, and there were two of them and one of me.”[/color] He sighed. [color=#B77600]“So, we got to participate in one after-school activity, due to being crazy poor, and my sisters outvoted me on dance.”[/color]

“But you were like, what, four? You’ve obviously kept it up.”

[color=#B77600]“Well, as Baby Clyff quickly learned, he wasn’t going to be sexy or charismatic. Might as well have something for Adult Clyff to do to woo the ladies.”[/color] He twirled her. [color=#B77600]“Baby Clyff was a fucking genius.”[/color]

Isabella pulled away and paused. “Speaking of baby.” She exhaled. “I’m pregnant.”

Clyff paused, almost laughed, didn’t, and stared. [color=#B77600]“That was… a segue… of… sorts.”[/color] He looked her in the eyes. Her lips were drawn tight.

“W-what do you think?”

He placed a hand on her cheek. [color=#B77600]“Looks like we’re going to have to get fucking married.”[/color]

Isabella laughed and leaned into him. "Even your marriage proposal is dumb. But, I accept." 

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.[hr][color=#B77600][i]back at the interview...[/i][/color]

He thought that was the happiest moment of his life. He’d been wrong. It’d been when Sofia was born. The saddest was when Isabella died. And the most terrifying was when he had to protect Sofia in the Citadel. There was nothing he could do as showers of fire and ash rained down on them. If the interviewer had asked about that day, he might have been greeted with the psychological shudder that he'd wanted from Clyff.

[color=#B77600]“My daughter,”[/color] Clyff said again. [color=#B77600]“The only thing I have in this galaxy.”[/color][/hider]