Everybody's a critic. At least I know how to have fun with it.

[This is a blatant lie; she does not know how to have fun. Shepard does know how to get drunk, which is about as close as she gets to truly switching off, but... Garrus makes a move, so casual and assured of his place that Shepard loops her own arm around him in return without thinking. The heat of him goes up her side like the weight of sunlight, when she does— when had it gotten this chilly?]

We're setting the bar at a lack of food poisoning? Thanks. [It's sarcastic, but she can't really stop the softness in her voice, or the smile. Easier to be open out here, without so many prying eyes.] But tell me that again in the morning, and we'll see if I still come up to your high standards.