tides will bring me back to you

Garrus had planned it – it was perfect. They served dextro and amino friendly foods, he had managed to sweet talk his way to the front of the substantial wait list for Shepard (okay name dropping Shepard), and no one was going to bother them.

Turns out someone did bother Shepard, and Shepard? Well…there was a Shepard shaped hole in the floor and a minor water leak. Very minor.

Shepard was remarkably unflappable about the whole thing. He was sure there was going to be an eventual fall out, he knew Shepard struggled with her place in the universe after her resurrection at the hands of Cerberus but, for now at least, she was still running fine on those overly caffeinated and sugary drinks she liked and she had tightly clamped lid on all of it. He'd taken his time with her after that, even more so than usual. Mapping out scars with his hands and mouth, smoothing over imperfections and quirks that proved she was real. She deserved all the stolen moments she could get. Garrus had a feeling those moments were going to become harder to find. 

He was still having a hard time wrapping his head around another...well. It wasn't another Adrian Shepard. It was a woman with her DNA. But everything about her screamed wrong wrong wrong. It proved how little anyone outside of the Normandy knew about him or his relationship with Shepard. He would know it wasn't her by smell alone. He would know it wasn't her by the way her limbs moved, by the way her mouth moved when her lips formed her name. The clone wouldn't have passed scrutiny if they tried to integrate into Shepard's life. He recalled the look of disgust on the clone's face when spitting out his name.  It was no wonder they wanted to kill the immediate crew -- the copy wasn't fooling anyone. It was especially obvious in their showdown in the cargo bay, the clone was too careful with her biotics. 

Garrus put the twisted, loathing look on that copy's face out of his mind. Shepard's preferences were clear and if not, the recent conversation between Shepard and Vega summed it up. Garrus could picture it; Vega's bravado in asking her,  "Am I making this hard for you and Garrus?" He wasn't going to forget Shepard's immediate laughter and her cool, "Not even remotely." any time soon. It was hard to miss the telltale scrunch of her nose and eyes when another human attempted to flirt with her. 

The door of their cabin slid open and Garrus’s musings of what to do next were abruptly halted as he stepped inside. The woman in question was reaching for a jacket, slightly exposing her toned stomach – though he didn’t miss the slight wince. Adrian Shepard was many things but careful was not one of them. Even with all her enhancements she was still human and the rapid succession of missions in a row leading up to the showdown on Tuchanka gave her little time to rest and heal. Her spectacular fall from the restaurant through several levels of the wards did little to help. He watched the muscles of back and shoulders move to smoothly slide the jacket on, despite the fading bruises, but was knocked out of his stupor by the clinking of bottles.

She turned to him, shaking them, “Up for another skycar adventure?”

He opened his mandibles in a grin, “Always.”

--

Shepard tapped her foot impatiently at the kiosk. Garrus watched her, amused, as she tried to appear nonchalant. He pulled up his omni-tool and did a quick scan, “Something about an incident at Huerta.” She craned her neck to see his report but he shrugged before gesturing the report away, “Not a lot of details but cabs seem to be suspended.” “Not for me they’re not.” She fiddled with her omni-tool for a moment and the kiosk unlocked.

As they waited, he caught Shepard peering over her shoulder back towards the dock. He followed her gaze to the Normandy, he pointedly nudged her hip back towards the kiosk, “Its not going anywhere.” She sighed, “Good. Its got all my stuff.” Shepard brushed a piece of hair from her forehead, “and I’m kind of partial to the people onboard.”

Garrus felt the familiar prickle of eyes on him and glanced back at Shepard.  She was leaning against the kiosk, arms crossed, and was focused on his clothing. Shepard didn't bother to hide her slow, appreciative appraisal down his body. She’d seen the black and silver lightly armored civilian gear before, on Bekenstein, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t have a flash of memory of the two of them making out in Donovon Hock’s bedroom. Clearly she was thinking the same by the pink dusting her cheeks and ears.

They had time to wait and Garrus found himself comparing their first freefall into, an admittedly long-time coming, intimacy and how easy it was now. Comrades, to friends, to...something, to lovers. The pair circled each other last year, dancing on the edge of something more for a while but it all came to a boiling point with their covert mission with Kasumi. He had played the part of Shepard’s lieutenant Gallus Varsis who was accompanying her to Donovan Hock’s party. Shepard had been dressed to blend in and stand out – a short black dress and heels. She had definitely stood out to him.  The search for DNA in Hock’s bedroom and the subsequent alarm they triggered led to them being sprawled across the couch in his quarters, Shepard spread across his lap. That in itself was shocking enough but then her ‘do turians know how to kiss’ line was burned into his memory forever. Garrus knew he could never forget the first real feel of her warm, soft mouth against his plates for the first time. The memory of that night after the mission was especially electrifying. 

The hurry-up-and-wait was thankfully short, as the longer Garrus stood there and reminisced the faster he was going to potentially embarrass himself. With a ping, a cab swooped into the loading area and Garrus was brought back to the present. Shepard tried to hand him the bottles but he pushed them right back against her middle with a scoff, “The last time I was in a cab with you, you were driving and we crashed.” “That was one time—” “I seem to recall we also crashed on Illium. I’m driving.”

--

The cab cut through the simulated night time of the Presidium with ease. He picked a different spot this time, slightly higher up, to land the skycar. Shepard noticed, of course, and leaned to conspiratorially whisper, “Did someone notice last time?”

He met her impish look and chuckled, “Still don’t give a damn.”

A slow smile spread across her face, “Good. Now move your ass Vakarian.”

She made a shooing motion with her free hand, and he dutifully slid out of the cab and onto the large support beam. She followed and eased herself onto the beam, sitting down with her legs stretched out before her. The jacket was tossed somewhere behind her, and Garrus sat next to her. Shepard set one the bottles down between her legs and frowned as she gave the other’s bottle cap a hard twist with a little biotic oomph behind it. Garrus could taste the slightly metallic biotic discharge on his tongue and clicked at her, “Careful.” “I’m always careful. This dual chirality shit is expensive.” She handed one to Garrus and opened hers next. She watched him take a swig and paused, "Is it…good?” He had to admit it was. He’d had his share of truly terrible, cheap dextro and amino friendly liquors in his time and he supposed Shepard’s boost in popularity and recognition probably didn’t hurt. She tried her drink as well and hummed her approval. Garrus was still thinking about Shepard's darkly humorous look to Vega. Her voice seemed to echo in his head -- 'Not even remotely'.  

“Adrian? Tell me about Vega.”

She rose her eyebrows at that. “Vega?” A coy grin spread across her face, “Problem?”

He chuckled, “None but he seems…friendly. Hard to read though.”

Shepard sighed, "I think you two will get along. He’s a bit green but not a bad kid. You know he was my babysitter in lock up, brought me news and scuttlebutt. He made sure I didn't get too much contraband." She clicked her tongue, "Couldn't help me with the messages though."

Garrus smoothed his hand across her neck and then down her back, "I know we didn't talk about it much but when we got the news Earth went dark? That was a bad day."

"What did you hear?"

He ducked his head, "People on Menae knew I was one of yours. A corporal came running over, told me the last report was that you were seen at Alliance HQ....and that it was completely destroyed. Comms went dark pretty quickly after that, no more news of Earth till you showed up.” He chuckled darkly, “I heard there was ‘a tiny human yelling at a general’ and I just knew.”

She paused. "I got lucky. I had someone to find."

They looked at each other for a moment before Shepard gave him a wry smile and clinked her bottle against his. Garrus adjusted the collar of his overcoat and took another drink. He watched Shepard track his movements and met her eyes as she also went back to her drink.

So this is how it's gonna be. Commander Shepard was an unyielding, but Adrian was easy to read -- Garrus saw her peering at him beneath her eyelashes lingering on his hands and waist, noticed the occasional squeezing of her thighs together. She wanted him. He could do that, his time with Shepard was always less than he wanted and never long enough. He was already in his own head, and distinctly uncomfortable, with thoughts of her. Her stormy eyes looked darker in the light of the night cycle, but it was impossible to miss the wanting glint or the subtle shift in her scent. 

Shepard leaned into him and delicately ran her fingers along his chest and murmured, "I wasn't sure you still had this." 

He blinked away his memories of Shepard in a tight, short dress and took her hand, pressing it against his heart. "Well... lots of good memories with this suit, Miss Gunn."

They didn't know where it had come from. The suit in question had been meticulously picked out by Kasumi and had just…appeared in Shepard’s cabin a few weeks before the mission. Garrus vividly remembered Shepard’s enjoyment of the grey and black lightly armor civilian wear, the way she ran her fingers down the deep blue cape before using it to yank him to her.

She quirked an eyebrow at him and downed the rest of the bottle before getting to her feet. He copied her, finishing his, and stood. Shepard tugged him back towards the skycar and he let her push him down onto the seat before she straddled his lap. 

Garrus's hands went automatically to her waist and she pressed down immediately. Garrus blew out his breath through his teeth, fanning her hair away from her face. She always managed to get him riled up too quickly, she was already rolling her hips against the growing erection between his legs. He leaned closer to her ear and asked lowly, "Did you plan this?"

Goosebumps rose on her arms and she murmured, "Its that suit."

He leaned back to make eye contact with her and pulled his hands up to slowly take off his thin gloves. At first, he’d been terrified of damaging her skin – even with the routine filing he maintained on the mostly human ship. As it turned out, he needn’t worry too much with her enhanced skin and muscles. Garrus never would have guessed that Shepard had developed a keen interest in his hands. It started small; how they used his sniper rifle, how they moved so differently than hers, how he held a utensil. Then, apparently, musings on what else his hands could do. She twined her fingers with his, while her other hand gripped his cowl as she ground her hips into his lap. Shepard pressed her lips to his mouth and he eagerly opened to her. They had figured out kissing long ago, on the graybox mission, and Garrus could never seem to get enough. He tangled his tongue with hers, eager to taste her again.

Garrus surged forward and pulled her tightly against his chest. Shepard’s arms curled around his neck and cowl, fingers running down the back of his neck to press against the softer skin right beneath his jaw and mandible. Garrus bucked up against her, the sensitive spot never failing to set his skin on fire – especially when it was her. He reached out and smoothed his hand down between the valley of her breasts, before running his thumb over a nipple through her shirt, purring when she arched against him. "Tell me what you want Shepard." 

She was still grinding against him in his lap while she breathed, "Just you. I just need you."

Garrus could do that. He watched Shepard drop her hands to the waist band of her pants and hastily unbutton them, before she somehow managed to shimmy one leg out without falling out of the skycar. He debated pulling her shirt up but based on her very distracting and very insistent grinding, he decided she likely wouldn't have the patience. He leaned a bit past her and pulled the door halfway closed.

Adrian rose her eyebrows at that, glancing out the partially closed door, “You think--?”

He squeezed her thigh, “No one will see us up here. Especially this late.”  Garrus smoothed his hands up her sides to her waist and gently squeezed, pulling her down to match her movements. Shepard pressed her forehead to his and ran her hand along his fringe.

“Mind your head,” She muttered before kissing him again. Garrus licked into her mouth before murmuring, “I have it on good authority you like—”  Shepard snatched his hand from her waist and pressed it firmly between her legs. “Impatient.” He tutted against her mouth.

Still, Garrus was nothing if not a skilled marksman and he knew where his target was. He pressed his thumb against the wet fabric of her underwear before sliding past her clothing to rub slow circles against her center. She arched against him and leaned back against the console of the cab to reach for his pants and pull them partway down. Shepard was already reaching inside to stroke against his slit, “We can take our time later. Please Garrus.”

Any thought of taking this slow and being thorough was lost the minute she said please so sweetly. As if on command, he slid free of his plates with a shiver and practically into her waiting hand. She gave him a squeeze before raising herself off his hand and positioning above him. 

“Yeah?” She asked breathlessly.

Garrus could only nod before she was sinking down steadily, faster than she normally would, moaning as she did so. He hissed, “Ah—slow down.”

He got another wicked grin from Shepard as he bottomed out and she, mercifully, paused for a moment though he wasn’t sure if that was for his benefit or hers. The first few moments coming out of his plates were always extremely sensitive, she was gong to kill hm. Slowly, she rose back up and dropped back down, working out a rhythm as she continued to move. He briefly wondered if there would ever come a time when they didn’t fit together so well, when she didn’t make him feel soul shatteringly good.

Garrus got his answer as she leaned forward to steady herself on his keel and press wet, open mouthed kisses to his neck and jaw. No, no this would never not be perfect. He felt her thighs beginning to shake a bit and moved to help her, hands coming down to scoop under her but the skycar was cramped enough as it was – Shepard was already titling towards the door to avoid smacking her head on ceiling and he carefully held his position with his fringe between the seats. Still, he could improvise. He braced his feet against the console and pulled her forward – Shepard was forced to bend nearly in half, sinking somehow further onto him.

 She whimpered as he pressed his face into her neck and began to help move her up and down his cock. They had found their final pace now, Garrus meeting her in increasingly frantic, fast thrusts. She was close, he could feel her pulsing around him. He gently nipped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and then she was clenching hard around him – her cunt squeezing him like a fist. Shepard came with a nearly soundless moan, her body seizing tight.

“Adrian—Adrian,” Garrus followed shortly after, moaning her name into her neck.

--

Sated as he was, he was definitely going to feel that in the morning. He bounced his knee a bit, trying to uncramp his calf. Shepard, shirt disheveled and pants haphazardly yanked back up to her hips to create some kind of modesty, was draped across his legs with her head sticking out of the skycar. She waved her hand in front of her face in an ineffective attempt to cool off. He stretched his legs onto the dashboard with a groan, ignoring Shepard’s huff as he jostled her. Garrus swiped her hair away from the closure of his pants and made himself mostly presentable again. She glanced up at him, “You gonna be alright old man?” Shepard pulled his head down for a languid, slow kiss. He briefly pressed his forehead against hers and then startled to attention when seven C-SEC cruisers went speeding by. They both sat up, Shepard tripping over herself and Garrus's legs to get out of the skycar and look over the rest of the presidium; both on high alert after the attempted coup from Cerberus. He joined her in scanning the horizon but there was nothing out of the ordinary. 

 A thick column of smoke erupted from the ground and steadily grew bigger. Garrus frowned, “That’s near the Council chambers.”

She pulled up her omni-tool and pinged Bailey.

<< CDR A. SHEPARD: Seeing smoke at Council. Anything I need to worry about?

After a moment, Bailey responded.

<< CAPT A. BAILEY: Group of krogan at the statue, handled.

Shepard shrugged and turned to Garrus, “Party at the krogan statue I guess.” Her partner hummed in acknowledgment but then looked uneasy. She paused,” What?”

“Adrian,” he said slowly, “Who do we know that was in Huerta and may have wanted to see the krogan statue near the Council chambers?”

Dread filled her instantly.

No.

He wouldn’t. But then his low rumbling laugh floated to the top of her memories and she knew – she knew. Shepard lowered her forehead into her palm and tried to ignore the amused trill from Garrus. She paced along the support beam, “So what, we think Huerta was about him?” She paused with growing horror, “And Bailey said a group of krogan.” Garrus finally lost it, a loud breathy laugh bursting from him that escalated into a full uncontrollable cackle. She whirled to face him, torn between astonishment at his ongoing laughter and apprehension about a gaggle of krogan led by one of hers apparently lighting shit on fire right outside of the Council chambers. She sputtered at him, unsure of what to say.

“He’s—he’s your son!” Garrus wheezed, collapsing backwards into the driver’s seat of the skycar. She stared at him in sullen silence, finally choosing to sit down for support, arms and legs crossed. Shepard didn’t claim to be the most…politically savvy woman and she certainly didn't care much for pointless rules but dammit outside of the Council chambers?

It took a moment but after Garrus was finally able to compose himself, he nudged Shepard with his foot. “Now what?”

Her back was still pointedly facing him. Bailey said it was under control. No one needs a Spectre for this. That IS your monkey but it is not your circus— Garrus’s hands closed around her shoulders and pulled her back against his legs. She sat motionless and in stony silence until, “I’m not going to do anything. We’re going to go to the strip and get a drink.”

Garrus pulled her up and tossed her jacket to her, “If you say so Shepard.”

The ride to the Silversun Strip blessedly short and soon Shepard and Garrus were sitting at a balcony bar at the arcade looking over the bustling strip.

Garrus tapped his finger on the pink umbrella in Shepard’s drink. “So…do you want to make a bet?” He asked in a drawl while he swirled his dextro whiskey in his glass. She turned to him intrigued, “On how long it takes for this to become my problem?”

“Atta girl. Hm, 200 credits say you get a call in the next five minutes to get him out of holding.”

She grinned, “200 credits say he never makes it to holding.”

They sat in silence and watched the people below, Shepard’s legs gathered in Garrus’s lap. He set a timer on his omni-tool and then leisurely sipped his drink. From across the bustling crowd he could see Shepard’s name still topped the leader board at Armax.

 Shepard’s omni-tool lit up at her wrist, an incoming call. The pair exchanged glances before she moved her feet to the floor, picked up, and began to speak, “This is Commander Shepard.” A pause and then, “Yes, I’ll come down and speak with him.”

Garrus drained his whiskey and passed Shepard’s drink to her, which she promptly knocked back as well. Sure enough, at the far end of the strip was a small group of C-SEC officers. Shepard sighed and made her way down the stairs and out the door, Garrus in tow, to get her krogan.

Garrus spotted the officer in charge, as the remaining law enforcement dispersed, immediately and nodded his direction, “That one Shepard. Only dealing with Grunt could make an officer look like that.” Sure enough, a now lone turian C-SEC officer stood by Armax and even by human standards he did look disgruntled. The officer looked up from his datapad, unimpressed as they approached.

“Officer, someone requested my presence concerning an incident with a krogan?”

He gestured for them to follow him, so they took a short walk to a side street off the main drag. There Grunt sat, in front the Noodle House, surrounded by three additional C-SEC security officers. Grunt puffed up like a pleased pyjak at the sight of her. He was covered in a rapidly dissipating foam of some sort. There was a C-SEC cruiser on fire.

Damnit. “So…Grunt. Anything you want to tell me about?”

The krogan rolled his eyes, “This clown wants to take me to lockup. Figured I’d give you a call, straighten this out.”

The C-SEC officer grimaced, “Commander Shepard, I apologize for the intrusion. This krogan insisted we contact you.” She bit back a smile at the chagrined expression of the officer. “Its okay. I vouch for him. I’ll sign any paperwork you have, Officer.”

Grunt turned to glare at the cops, who filed away leaving just the one filling out paperwork. She didn’t miss the subtle raise of his plates above his eyes as he typed. “Yes ma’am.”

 Shepard turned back to Grunt, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Grunt grumbled, “Drank a bit, left the hospital, broke a few windows.”

Oh god. The hospital was him too. She gave him a once over, “But you were in the hospital recovering from the rachni encounter.”

 He shrugged, “Yeah. Didn’t feel like sticking around.”

“Most people stick around long enough to, you know, heal?”

“Most people aren’t me.”

She motioned to the officer. “And why is C-SEC here?”

“Guess they’re precious about some broken glass.”

It occurred to her then the other krogan that Bailey mentioned were nowhere to be found. “Before I sign you out…everyone walked away from this in one piece right?”

Grunt shifted and said slowly, “Sure, yeah everybody’s fine. Hospital’s seen better days though.”

Shepard didn’t miss Garrus ducking his head to hide a chuckle. Neither did the turian C-Sec officer apparently, who turned to give Garrus a long look. The officer handed the datapad to her with a sigh. Her omni-tool suddenly pinged with a deposit of 200 credits. 

“Right. Tell me about the windows.”

He grinned, “A couple of squadmates broke me out for my birthday. Tried lowering me down the side of the building a rope.”

She winced at the rope and his sheer size but then, “Wait. Its your birthday?”

“No. I’m tank-bred, remember?” He actually scoffed at her, the little shit. “Anyway, we got some pictures on the krogan memorial.”

“In the presidium?” Dread filled her. Not just Grunt on the krogan memorial but his now suspiciously absent squad as well. She was picturing Grunt in the presidium pools and grimaced at the property damage. 

Grunt nodded, “Yeah. When C-SEC got there, they were mad. Or maybe there were mad about their car being fire. Can’t remember.”

She knew she wasn’t going to like this but she had to ask, “And why was the car on fire?”

“I threw my bottle of ryncol at it. Pretty strong stuff – went up like a bonfire.”

Of course. Grunt must have sensed her growing displeasure, he held up his hands in surrender. “The C-SEC guys jumped out.” He continued factually, “Then I figured they didn’t want it, so I took it. We didn’t get very far before they shut us down. Sprayed us down with riot foam. Didn’t work so well on me.”

“And why’s that?”

He rolled his eyes, “Cause I was on fire. You know, from the car? Come on Shepard keep up.”

She crossed her arms, “Right, sorry. So how did they catch you?”

“Got hungry. Bought some noodles.”

Shepard fought the urge to laugh. It was just as ridiculous as she thought it would be. She didn’t dare look at Garrus, she knew she would completely lose her composure. So instead, she turned back to the C-SEC officer. “Sir, this krogan is part of a secret Spectre task force: Operation Fire…Cobra…Claw.”

The officer didn’t blink, “Operation Fire Cobra Claw?”

“That’s right,” she nodded. “I can take it from here. Send me the bill for any damages.”

There was a long pause where the C-SEC officer stared at her, completely deadpan. “That’s what you’ve been signing for, Commander.” He turned to Grunt, “You’re lucky, krogan. Don’t let me catch you up there again.”

She nodded, “You won’t. Thank you officer.” Shepard held her breath as the C-SEC officer shook his head and walked away to deal with the smoldering cruiser. She spared a glance at Garrus, who was leaning against a nearby wall and looking like it was his birthday with barely contained glee. She huffed out a laugh despite herself. 

Shepard thought for a moment and then nodded to the noodle shop’s menu. She could eat. “So…how were those noodles?”

Grunt chuckled, “A little spicy.”

There was a pile of paperwork but that was tomorrow’s problem and for tonight, she was going to eat noodles with Garrus and Grunt. She slid onto a stool at counter and looked briefly at the menu. 

She leaned forward and flagged down the human working the shop, "Two bowls of dan dan noodles, something spicy and dextro, two tupari, and a drossik please." 

Garrus slid onto a stool next to her and said dryly, “Shepard. ‘Something spicy and dextro’? Leaving that wide open.” His eyes flitted to Grunt behind her, who was clambering back onto a stool on her other side. She swiped her omni tool across the terminal to pay.

Two steaming bowls of noodles were placed in front of her and Grunt almost immediately, while the drinks appeared shortly after. Shepard peered around, hoping to get a glimpse of the kitchen to determine how long Garrus’s dextro noodles were going to take.

“Shepard.” Grunt rumbled from behind her, tapping something metallic on the counter, “Seasoning?”

She waved him off without turning, “Sure.”

After a moment another steaming bowl of shorter, rounder noodles slid in front Garrus from the chef. She leaned over, intrigued by the bright red sauce and the admittedly delicious smell. Garrus nudged it away from her, “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.”

“Yeah yeah.”

Shepard plucked a pair of chopsticks from a nearby container on the bar and tossed a modified pair to Garrus. She turned to ask Grunt his preference to see him already shoveling it directly into his mouth – bowl in one hand, head tilted back. She snorted.

She gave her bowl a stir mixing the pickled greens, nuts, and meat before frowning slightly. Dan dan noodles was not a dish she was unfamiliar with, though she usually suffered a bit after consuming the spicy dish but now…there were other bits in the sauce and noodles she didn’t recognize. Shepard stole a glance at Grunt, who was still slurping away, and figured it was just a sprinkling of whatever he’d used on his noodles. It couldn’t be all bad, right?

The dish was, as always, delicious and a flavorful blend of flavors from Earth supplemented with more readily available items too. Way more supplemented now. All the drinking had made her hungrier than she realized, she gulped down the first bite and then used the chopsticks to shove more into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully and then paused, her mouth slowing.

Oh god.

Her eyes watered immediately as a pins and needles sensation spread across her lips and tongue. She swallowed hastily and the blazing heat travelled down her throat in an uncomfortable fiery path.

Shepard could vaguely hear the nearby tupari vending machine’s advertisements as a volus attempted to buy a bottle. ‘Nine out of ten tupari drinkers recommend tupari to their friends. The last one is one my list.’

Swallowing did nothing except irritate her throat. She inhaled sharply and begin to cough, nose starting to run too. Garrus trailed off from whatever he was saying to Grunt. Had he been talking? How long had her ears been ringing? She looked back down at her bowl in disbelief, still coughing. A burp quickly followed.

Shepard sucked in another breathe and croaked, “Grunt—what the fuck did you—” She burped a few more times in succession. She fumbled past the krogan for the spice shaker at his elbow, sweaty fingers slipping across the bar top to send her stumbling off her stool from the momentum.

The vending machine dinged again. ‘I knew a man who went three days without a tupari sports drink. He got hit by a shuttle.’

Now both Garrus and Grunt were staring at her, as she quickly righted herself back onto her stool, mouth and face burning. She snatched up her tupari and chugged it down, shot-gunning it in one go.

It did nothing. The fire continued to scorch. A bead of sweat rolled down from her damp hairline and into her eye. She thought about wiping it away, but what was the point when her eyes would not stop watering anyway?

‘Tupari brings your ancestors back from the grave.’

She tried again to ask for the spice shaker, wheezing instead. Shepard felt the telltale pull in the back of her head and buzz in her fingertips. The trio was lit by the blue purple glow of Shepard’s biotics as the spice shaker was pulled into her open hand.

That finally broke Garrus out of his stupor. “Adrian—”

Shepard shoved the container accusingly in Grunt’s face, shaking it at him and sucking in lung fulls of air in-between words, “What is it?!”

Grunt rolled his eyes at her from across the lip of his bowl and finished slurping down the remaining noodles and broth before tossing the bowl back onto the counter, where it swirled for a moment before clattering to a stop.

“I don't know what you call it.” He read the label, “Pyjack mix from Fishdog.” Grunt stared at Shepard’s accusing glare and pointed a finger at her, “You said sure Shepard.”

She heard something that sounded suspiciously like hushed laughter behind her but her eyes were still stinging and though her mouth had downgraded from molten to smoldering forest fire she was still uncomfortable. Any attempt at cowing bystanders with her looks was not gong to work. 

Shepard snatched up Grunt’s untouched tupari and began drinking that too in greedy gulps. Just outside of the noodle stand, the volus was kicking the vending machine. ‘Twelve trillion bottles of tupari are sold in a day. Where’s yours? Oh that’s right – its inside me.’

Finally, the urgency was gone. She slumped against the counter, pushing her bowl towards Grunt. He wasted no time finishing off her noodles too and, between the gaps in her arms where she had cradled her head against the cool countertop, she could see Garrus was working on his bowl too. Slowly -- too slowly. His attempt to look uninvolved was not working. 

“Eat your noodles Vakarian.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Her forehead and back were sticky with sweat. She could practically feel her hair sticking up at her temples. It occurred to her then, there was a solution to her problem and it wasn’t too far away – certainly closer than the Normandy.

Grunt had already been kicked out but this was Spectre business, right? Besides, those two krogan said they would pay her to determine conclusively if there really were fish in the presidium lake and she definitely had enough clothes underneath to scandalize too many people.

‘I know you’re weakening. Tupari is on your mind. Give in.’

Shepard stood, scrubbing her hands across her still warm cheeks, and finished Grunt’s tupari. Garrus was done too and was looking at her cautiously as if he knew what was on her mind.