Well. To say he doesn't is a mild falsehood, but technically it has nothing to do with humans themselves. There is no xenophilic curiosity here, to speak of. On Mordin's end, at least. He has his suspicions about Shepard, who has always seemed a little too fascinated with the other Council races. It's true that human females differ little from asari, though more variable in shape—features small but elegant, bodies a collection of gently sloping curves, skin a little softer, a little warmer, fuzzed all over with a fine dusting of tiny hairs.
And it's true that Mordin has been... amenable to the advances of asari in the past. Humans themselves (the females, mostly, according to Mordin's subjective assessment) are aesthetically pleasing, on occasion. But that isn't it, either. Shepard lacks the limber grace of most asari, the vivid colors, the familiar smoothness. But she has something. Something that amounts to more than difference in species, even though he's fairly certain that she would be considered quite attractive by human standards.
He couldn't bring himself to respond to what he thought were her advances before. Too great a risk of interfering with mission. Shepard herself a less known quantity at the time. Too old. At this point in his life, ill-equipped for... complication.
But so, if he's honest with himself, he's not particularly interested in trying human, no. But he might be interested in trying Shepard. ]
Yes, yes. Sure you made short work of them.
[ It's a somewhat dismissive deflection of what he thinks might be flirtation on her part, but he isn't sure, so he chooses not to make assumptions. Humor often a tool to ease discomfort when feeling inordinately exposed. Also, he can feel himself settling into a comfortable frame of mind: the doctor, the scientist, eager to discover and solve.
He considers her there in her bra and underwear, fingers on chin (which are bare now, long and thin and dusky orange as the rest of him), his attention giving no more weight to her breasts or hips than it would her elbow. ]
Think it best to start with examination for subdermal implant, focus inward from there.
[ You know, like he's not talking about poking around her most intimate of areas. He steps around behind her, still studying her, visibly thinking the whole way along. ]
Lean forward? Primary concern base of skull, along vertebral column. Biotech most likely to be placed there; leech power from body's own electrical impulses.
[ It is with pleasant dispassion that he brushes the hair off her nape. With that done he can begin his work, fingers warmer than a human's settling high past her hairline and sliding down toward her C7 vertebra in a series of slow scanning stripes across the width of her neck. ]
no subject
Well. To say he doesn't is a mild falsehood, but technically it has nothing to do with humans themselves. There is no xenophilic curiosity here, to speak of. On Mordin's end, at least. He has his suspicions about Shepard, who has always seemed a little too fascinated with the other Council races. It's true that human females differ little from asari, though more variable in shape—features small but elegant, bodies a collection of gently sloping curves, skin a little softer, a little warmer, fuzzed all over with a fine dusting of tiny hairs.
And it's true that Mordin has been... amenable to the advances of asari in the past. Humans themselves (the females, mostly, according to Mordin's subjective assessment) are aesthetically pleasing, on occasion. But that isn't it, either. Shepard lacks the limber grace of most asari, the vivid colors, the familiar smoothness. But she has something. Something that amounts to more than difference in species, even though he's fairly certain that she would be considered quite attractive by human standards.
He couldn't bring himself to respond to what he thought were her advances before. Too great a risk of interfering with mission. Shepard herself a less known quantity at the time. Too old. At this point in his life, ill-equipped for... complication.
But so, if he's honest with himself, he's not particularly interested in trying human, no. But he might be interested in trying Shepard. ]
Yes, yes. Sure you made short work of them.
[ It's a somewhat dismissive deflection of what he thinks might be flirtation on her part, but he isn't sure, so he chooses not to make assumptions. Humor often a tool to ease discomfort when feeling inordinately exposed. Also, he can feel himself settling into a comfortable frame of mind: the doctor, the scientist, eager to discover and solve.
He considers her there in her bra and underwear, fingers on chin (which are bare now, long and thin and dusky orange as the rest of him), his attention giving no more weight to her breasts or hips than it would her elbow. ]
Think it best to start with examination for subdermal implant, focus inward from there.
[ You know, like he's not talking about poking around her most intimate of areas. He steps around behind her, still studying her, visibly thinking the whole way along. ]
Lean forward? Primary concern base of skull, along vertebral column. Biotech most likely to be placed there; leech power from body's own electrical impulses.
[ It is with pleasant dispassion that he brushes the hair off her nape. With that done he can begin his work, fingers warmer than a human's settling high past her hairline and sliding down toward her C7 vertebra in a series of slow scanning stripes across the width of her neck. ]