... he didn't. [There's something of a disbelieving groan in the statement. It's not a question. It's not even a plea.] He gave me the same speech. In reverse.

[It's kind of sad to think about, now. The weird, eccentric salarian who casually experimented on the Collector Swarm, made the occasional announcement about life-threatening studies he was performing... the man who engineered part of the damn genophage... was gone. Just like that. Mordin, Thane - hell, so many worlds were obliterated already, but it was the crew that hit hardest.]

[It's not the pit he thinks about, right now, when he tightens his grip a fraction. It's the two years of floundering, the six months of uncertainty. The blank space of pure survival mode between Earth going dark and the handclasp on Manae.]

Hm? [Glass clicking pulls him out of it, and his mandibles flex in a grin. It'll always be slanted to one side - he could have had it repaired on Palaven, but warning people against an incoming Reaper horde had taken priority.] Well... since we're talking about it.

To - 'do not ingest', and all well intentioned medical advice?

[Yeah, he had to go there. Mordin probably would have been amused.]