Squiggly Squid

They'd been riding all day, but the sweltering afternoon heat had finally made them find shade under one of the big iron oaks that swayed in the wind. It cast its shadow over the creek they'd been following, and the horses quickly found a nice patch of grass. Garrus grabbed a book from his pack and rested his cowl against the tree's trunk. Shepard ditched her duster, splashed herself down with water from the nearby creek, and cursed under her breath for not bringing her own book. Instead, she pulled out a rope and tied a lasso. As she began to spin it in the air, then toward the ground, she felt Garrus's eyes on her back. When she turned to look at him, he seemed as transfixed by his book as ever. She might've bought it, except for the blue that crept up his collar. 

Knowing she had an audience, Shepard started to pull some of her more impressive moves. Hopping in and out of the loop, roping a nearby stump, anything that she thought might pull his eyes off the page and on to her. 

And damn, if it didn't work a treat. 

"You ever tie anyone up?"

Shepard choked on the desert air. Her elbow went to her knee while she chased down the air that had left her lungs. "Now Mr. Vakarian, I'm gonna need you to elaborate on that question."

Ever the good-mannered turian, he ignored her coughing fit. "Back when you were with the Reds. Y'all ever tie anyone down to the railroad tracks? Lasso down their horses in a chase?"

She couldn't stop her lips from curling up into a smile. "You're such a damn city boy, you know? No. Tying someone down was a waste of time and rope. We'd usually just tilt their heads back and slit their throats." She dragged her finger across her neck for emphasis. 

"Oh." He sounded disappointed, and she nearly felt guilty for ruining his romantic vision of gang life. 

She spun her rope for a moment, letting her brain follow the loops. "Now as a Spectre? Maybe once or twice." 

"Oh?" The sharp lilt of interest was back in his voice. If she could hear his subvocals, she was sure they'd be buzzing. 

Hop over, lift the loop, let it fall. Start the spin again. "Sure thing. Like this one time, I needed to search an information broker's files. So I put my boot in his lap like so-" she put her boot heel on the edge of the stump for emphasis, "and made him put his hands in his lap so I could get him tied up real tight." Not the full story; she left out the way the man had wailed and pissed himself. Any other audience would eat that up, but she suspected that wasn't quite what Garrus was asking about. 

"Oh." And there it was. She turned back to see Garrus's eyes traveling the length of the rope. His arms were crossed, but his fingers were clearly digging into the leather of his jacket. 

Nice and easy, this one. She let the lasso dance between them for a moment. "You asking for any particular reason, big guy?" 

He shifted from one foot to the other, and for a second she worried he wouldn't bite. But then- "you think you'd ever wanna tie me up like that?" 

Mr. Black-and-White wanted to be trussed up by a scrappy little villain; now wasn't that interesting? 

"Is that the kind of thing you'd want? This rope is pretty rough. And you'd be at my mercy. You think you'd trust an ol' rustler like me?"

She looked at him and this time, he didn't dodge her gaze. "You know, I think I do." 

"No railroad tracks 'round here."

"We got a tree."

Excerpt:

Garrus pushed the brim of his hat up and swung the doors to the saloon open, ignoring the eyes settling on his tall frame. The sound of a lively piano tune hit him first. The smell hit him second: clean city-folk and too-expensive whisky. His blue eyes swept across the open room until they settled on a man eyeing him from a table tucked in the innermost corner.

His chest tightened. Ignoring it, he stepped forward, his boots thunking heavily against the floor. As he reached the man, he gave a small nod.

“Dad.”