The light from Garrus's communicator does not reveal much this close up, less when it is in his pocket. It flicks back and forth across the doorway as they pull, straining against the gears of the door.

"Less than you might think Turian, to us it is as natural as breathing. Far more often it is a boon."

The door remains stubborn and fixed, and he can feel weakness in his fingers, damn them, "However, we have difficulty with dishonesty. Other, lesser races, sometimes found us to be," he growls a little, leans his body weight back, "blunt."

With that his fingers slipped, causing him to elbow Garrus firmly in the chest and leaving him more frustrated than before, "We do not have time for this! We must find a way to open this door."