Damn it, Blasto, I told you to bring in those vorcha alive for questioning.
This one didn’t have anything to ask them.
You blew up half a level of Zakera Ward.
It was an aesthetically displeasing habitat anyway.
You don’t get it, Kahje-Clan. Ever since they found eezo on the vorcha homeworld, the Council’s been trying to make nice. Bottom line, you can’t touch the vorcha. They’ve got diplomatic immunity.
Then this one will not attempt diplomacy.
You’re also getting a new partner.
Are you engaging with reproductive behavior with this one?
Unless you want your Spectre status revoked, you’re working in a joint operation with Bubin from C-Sec.
An elcor? You know this one works alone.
Look, I’ve had to talk them down from suspending you. I’ve gotten a pulmonary ulcer from dealing with this mess. I can’t even eat solid food!
You would benefit from shedding excess body mass, Chief.

—
Greetings, Bubin. This one understands you are the second best law enforcement agent on the Citadel.
Badassfully: Funny. I heard the same thing about you.
Just avoid interfering with this one’s projected maneuvering path.
Badassfully: Hold it, Spectre. We do this by the book.
You may carry the book while this one opens another excretion vent on the vorcha ambassador.
Badassfully: Damn it, you big stupid jellyfish. I’m just three solar days from retirement.
Obtain a firm grip on your reproductive anatomy. The vorcha ambassador’s vehicle just turned down that skyway.
Badassfully: What the hell are you doing. This is my mate’s car. We just paid it off.
Hopefully you are insured.
—
Greetings, vorcha citizen. Please explain the reason for your haste.
You no touch me! Diplomatic immun– Ow! Ow! Ow!
Please exercise caution, criminal scum. Your face may cause damage to my partner’s vehicle.
Badassfully: Hey, you’re hurting him.
His unique genetic structure will enable him to regenerate… unless this one uses fire.
No talk, no talk!
This one has forgotten whether its pistol is currently equipped with incendiary ammunition. Does the criminal scum consider itself fortunate?
Badassfully: You’d better talk. I can’t hold him back.
Consort! Guarding boss at consort!
Have a pleasant day.
Badassfully: Damn it, what the hell was that. You’re out of control.
You may wish to monitor your stress levels. High blood pressure is unhealthy for a species adapted to a high-gravity environment.
Badassfully: Come on, I know someone at the Consort’s office.
This one suspected you had deviant mating fetishes.
Badassfully: You are paying for the car.
—
Coquettishly: Welcome to the Consort’s suites. Oh, Bubin, it’s great to see you.
Has a Prothean descended from heaven? Because this one would enjoy enkindling that.
Badassfully: Hey, man, that’s my sister.
Your progenitors’ genetic propensity for attractiveness was passed only to her.
Coquettishly: Who’s the big handsome jellyfish, Bubin?
Blasto. This one is training Bubin in proper legal procedure.
Badassfully: Listen, Honey, we need to get inside.
Coquettishly: You’re a pain, Bubin. But I can’t resist your good-looking partner.
Thank you, polyp. This one will attempt to determine a way to repay you.
Badassfully: Seriously, don’t be like that with my sister.
—
reetings, vorcha scum. This one mistook you for a krogan defecation.
You no talk! Me get your badge!
Badassfully: That badge is the only thing keeping him from killing you right now.
You be sorry!
This one is already story. It will take hours to remove your olfactory residue from my oxygen diffusion membrane. Let us depart, Bubin.
Badassfully: What the hell did that accomplish.
Two things. First, the vorcha knows we are following it.
Badassfully: And second?
You have demonstrated that you still posess a supportive endoskeleton.

—
Coquettishly: That’s right, baby. Tell me your soul name.
It is whatever you wish it to be, polyp.
Badassfully: What the hell is going on here. Are you sleeping with my sister.
Slumber would be difficult due to the energetic nature of our copulation.
Badassfully: Damn it, Blasto, that’s it. You and me, outside, right now.
Coquettishly: Please don’t hurt him.
This one promises not to harm your brother.
Badassfully: I didn’t ask to be partnered with you, Blasto.
No solid-waste excrement. You dislike the manner in which this Spectre operates.
Badassfully: No, you’re one of the best damn cops I’ve worked with.
Then what is the difficulty? Aside from your sister.
Badassfully: The problem is that I can’t work with a partner that doesn’t respect me.
This one greatly respects you. But you care more about protocol than stopping the vorcha.
Badassfully: Doing it by the book is what separates us from them.
Ha-ha! Kill you now!
Spawn of questionable parentage. The vorcha! Get to cover!
Badassfully: Damn it, Blasto. They got me. They got me bad.
No, Bubin. You are too aesthetically displeasing to die.
Badassfully: Promise me you’ll get the vorcha.
They have already perished, though they are currently unaware of it.
Badassfully: No. By the book. Promise me you’ll do it by the book.
This one cannot acceed to this request.
Badassfully: Promise me, damn it. Promise–Translator Error, obstruction in airway.
Nooo.
—
Me give you money.
Coquettishly: You didn’t say anything about attacking my brother.
Brother? Rah! Me no pay you! My men kill you instead!
Apologies, but your men had to catch a skycar.
Blasto! How you find me?
By following Bubin’s sister. It was obvious she helped your men plan the ambush.
You no kill me! Diplomatic immunity!
Yes. This one made a promise to do it by the book. You may only be killed in self-defense.
Rah, you no see my gun. Ha!
You are standing on flammable material. This one has no choice… but to enkindle this.
Coquettishly: What are you going to do with me.
Nothing. The vorcha kidnapped you to lure me in. That is all this one saw.
Coquettishly: You don’t have to protect me.
No. But your brother needs blood from a family member to survive. And indicted criminals cannot make tissue donations.
Coquettishly: What. Bubin’s alive.
Barely. And not for long. So cease talking and get to the hospital.
Coquettishly: Thank you, Blasto. Thank you for breaking the rules for me.
Polyp, when has this one ever been concerned with the rules.
—
You do not retire for another two solar days, Bubin.
Badassfully: Ugh, what happened.
We got to the vorcha. By the book.
Blasto! The entire vorcha embassy burned down. Do you see how my suit is bulging? It’s because the turian councilor is in here with me, up my cloaca. He’s not happy.
Nobody would be happy lodged in your cloaca, Chief.
You’re lucky Bubin’s sister can testify that you killed him in self-defense! Do you know how much paperwork you’re going to have?
My partner can take care of it. He is still restricted to desk duty for health reasons.
Badassfully: Blasto, you son of a…