Then let me be your jest; I deserve it.
Driven from their home system by the geth nearly three centuries ago, most quarians now live aboard the Migrant Fleet, a flotilla of fifty thousand vessels ranging in size from passenger shuttles to mobile space stations.
Home to 17 million quarians, the flotilla understandably has scarce resources. Because of this, each quarian must go on a rite of passage known as the Pilgrimage when they come of age. They leave the fleet and only return once they have found something of value they can bring back to their people.
‘Would not your Royal Highness like to come into the next room and see the dancers?’ said the Major in great perplexity, forgetting all about the inflected verbs. / ‘No, Bobbery Bob! I’ll drink some more sherbet, old man’.
I also became frustrated with the stuff sack's built-in mud flap, which folds out of the burritolike bag to provide a dry working space, but mostly just got in my way.
