(_im)PERFECT

garrus loves a good firefight — he thrives within them, stretching his talents, performing at his peak, and yet... when @cerberusofficer is nearby, there's an air of worry to his actions. his eyes are a little sharper, browplates a little heavier over his gaze. she makes him like this; she's the one who causes these problems, makes him worry all the damn time. it's not that she's incapable of handling herself in the thick of battle (quite the opposite). it's... this nagging, perpetual fear lodged in the base of the turian's skull that makes him double-check every corner, watch every shot, and calculate twice the normal amount. for her, for her sake, he adds caution he'd never considered before — for miranda, garrus fights like a different beast. he's incensed. he's terrified.

pop  and  squish,  the  resistant  of  marrow  fighting  against  propulsion  resonates.  biotic  feedback  crawls  up  her  skin  as  she  vaults  herself  over  their  “cozy”  barricade,  determined  to  cut  a  path  with  him  beside  her.  rarely  has  she  put  such  trust  in  others  to  guard  her  assault;  he's  proven  as  much.  not  so  simply  by  staying  by  shepard's  side,  no  —  garrus  has  held  his  own,  shown  adaptive  teamwork,  a  care  for  those  around  him  beyond  the  bounds  of  duty;  she's  watched  him  balance  the  razors  edge  of  duty  and  dedication  many  times  before,  watched  the  fury  of  personal  righteousness  crash  against  the  fickle  ideal  of  order.   and  for  that  she  cares  for  every  shudder  of  his  shields,  every  careful  duck  he  makes  behind  cover  (  your  fringe,  vakarian,  she  oft  wants  to  call  but  perhaps  he  wants  to  be  seen  past  the  looming  and  ominous  barrel  of  a  sniper  scope).  and  beyond.   

miranda's silent disapproval bounced off of jane completely - the latter much too focused on the pain at hand while adjusting her body to lean on the former. cold sweat now glazed her forehead, as the pain ran through her body in waves. there was also an itch, under her skin, her cybernetics slowly trying to regulate the pain and start the expedited healing. for a second, the unrealistic fear that her bone would start healing before it was properly set, creeped in, but jane pushed that thought quickly aside.

"good, because i do prefer mordin's bedside manner, too," she countered with a chuckle that quickly turned into a pained hiss. she turned her head towards the buzzing of the shuttle, face quickly showing her relief. "once again, i'm at your mercy, dr. lawson."

“  have  to  cut  the  leg  off,  stem  infection,  festering  in  the  wound  is…  ill  advised.  ”  she  mocks  under  her  breath,  her  tone  a  tittering  mimic.  yet  the  mention  of  mercy  draws  her  back  clear,  shoulder  hitching  to  better  steady  her  charge  borne  into  eternity.   “  —  you  were  never  at  my  mercy,  shepard.  otherwise  you'd  know  i  have  none  .  ”   

flickers  of  memory,  wilson  thinking  he  could  get  the  better  of  her  -  ruin  her  legacy,  leave  her  dead  amongst  hacked  mechs.  and  all  too  readily  does  she  remember  when  shepard  first  opened  her  eyes  again.  the  ache  and  panic  strewn  across  a  stitched  visage  —  the  very  hand  that  cradle  her  cheek  now  hugs  readily  against  armored  waist.