thearchangel | 5

Entry tags:

5 - Audio

... Hey, commander? Can I get you to stop by my quarters? For a second?

[Wow, Garrus, your voice is sounding decidedly... flat... today. Are you feeling all right?]

Thanks.

((ooc: replies will be from

turian_events))

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Sure, but uh--

I think my translator's either glitching or operating more smoothly than its programming permits.

I could look at the settings for you but... I... kind of... need your help with something.

Right now.

[Suspicions: not 100% assuaged. Whatever it is, she can deal with it in person.

He didn't say anything about an emergency but Shepard interpreted that from 'need your help' on her own. Which is why, when she's positioned outside the door of his cell, she knocks a little harder than necessary.]

Garrus? Open up.

[There's some shuffling inside. A sound like someone... tripping? Stumbling?]

[But then the door's opening a crack.]

Come in. Thanks. I... just come in.

[But Shepard's not moving-- to leave or to bust the door open. She stares. At his face, at the door, at the contents of his room.]

What the hell, Garrus?

[And there's... the ex-turian. Wearing a bed sheet because his clothing suddenly doesn't fit right anymore. Let alone his armor. He's already got a hand to his face, to self-consciously pick at the lingering scars.]

That's... what'd I'd like to know... actually.

[Shepard grabs him -- gently -- around the jaw, turning it so that she can get a good look at the mess of scars only her squadmate can boast to having. Air hisses through her teeth on inhale.]

Pretty sure this isn't supposed to be possible.

[Dinosaurs, and now THIS.]

[Anyone else would probably have their hand swatted away, or their wrist twisted into an uncomfortable position. But this is Shepard. He trusts her -- above and beyond all others.]

[So he lets her examine his face, averting his eyes. The skin -- the bizarre soft skin -- suddenly feels a little hot.]

Really? Because I tend to do this every couple hours while I'm calibrating...

Huh.

[Shepard probes his cheek, marveling at the transformation, pretending not to notice his rising temperature until her hands are clasped together safely behind her back. Then she shoots him the cheekiest goddamned grin.]

Never thought I'd see you blush, soldier.

[And he keeps his eyes on the far wall, trying to ignore her fingers poking at his face. It's... suddenly uncomfortable.]

[... When did her fingers ever feel like that?]

Turians don't blush, Shepard.

[He meets her grin with a flat look, drawing himself up a bit.]

Did I ever mention that?

Hey, I know enough about turian biology to guess that. What do you take me for?

[Unrepentant in the face of his obvious discomfort, Shepard chooses to let him see just how much she's enjoying this.]

Thing is, Garrus? You're not a turian right now.

[Discomfort, in addition to the overall strangeness and confusion of this new body... makes him snap his head back around to glare at her.]

I noticed.

[And then he's putting his face back into his hands, one lingering on the scars. At least those are familiar. At least he can still pick at them as needed. Sort of.]

... I need pants. Not jokes. You can laugh all you want when I'm not wearing a bedsheet.

[Putting her hands up, classic don't-shoot-me style. Through a massive amount of self-control she wipes the smirk off her mouth, straightening out.]

Okay, okay. No jokes.

[Shepard tilts her head, looking him over critically.] I've got some baggy old-school pants from the Clothier's Tower that might do the trick. This has got to be mortifying for you, but to be completely honest, you have nothing to be really embarrassed about. I've seen way uglier humans than you.

[He blows out a breath -- looking a little surprised with it makes his lips move around. That's... new.]

I'd appreciate that. I can't even fit into my old shirt, let alone the pants.

[Seeing that look, though, he can feel his face heating up again. Humans don't usually do this -- he doesn't think, anyway. He keeps his hands on his face, in hopes of making it less obvious.]

I'm wearing a bedsheet in front of the person I respect the most in the galaxy, Shepard, I have plenty to be embarrassed about.

[Of course, he doesn't comment on the "uglier than you" part. That's obviously not true.]

[She's got bigger things on her mind than fluffing up his sense of vanity and ripping him a new one for thinking she'd bend the truth to suit his ego. Switching the bulk of her weight to one leg, Shepard lifts both brows. Paragon of dubiousness.]

That's it? Garrus, trust me on this. You don't have anything I haven't seen before. Human men are all pretty much built the same.

... Except the scars, huh?

[That may or may not be a big part of the problem. It figures, those carry over, but not scales. Or something useful. And he's not wearing pants.]

I... just wanted to know if you had anything I could put on.

Your scars just give your face more character. Stop worrying.

[Shepard ducks out of his doorway, leaning against the outer wall.]

Now, do you wanna come with, or do you want to stay holed up in your cell?

... Yeah. I know, it's stupid, I just... what am I supposed to think, here?

[He scrubs his hands across his face, only to stop at his hairline, feeling it out.]

No, I'll come with you.

[Wrong tack for him, she realizes, and switches gears pronto.]

Had a hell of a time digging through a bunch of frivolous oddities, but like I said. Got stuff that might fit.

[They both know where they're going, and Shepard sets a brisk trot, knowing that he isn't too happy about his state of dress. She just hopes he doesn't put up a fight when she holds off-white breeches out for him to examine.]

Presto. Puny human clothes.

Appreciate this...

[He's not going to complain. Not at all. He shifts the bedsheet to one hand, reaching out to take the pants from her with the other.]

They always did look sort of weird.

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5 - Audio

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