#dyingdrell

{♈} - The walk back from  Talid’s apartment to Ce-Sec headquarters is an awkward one, like just walked in on your parents ‘wrestling’ and now they’ve decided to give you the ‘talk’, kind of awkward. She along with Bailey do their best to give the estranged father and son some sort of privacy by shortening their usual powerful strides or by hovering around the brightly lit entrances of stores where pointless knickknacks suddenly become something they’d always wanted.

“I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite store on the Citadel.”  

The group has just passed Jane’s fifth favorite store: The Sirta Foundation and she has to pull clumsily at choppy red hair to avoid the accusing gaze of the stern man at her side. She breathes and pushes down the sudden need to chuckle at the man who shakes his head at  the cheapness of the Citadel’s Savior.

When they arrive back at headquarters both Thane and Kolyat quickly vanish into a spare room while Bailey starts on the tedious but painfully necessary task of filing reports. The Commander stays silent and passes the time by sticking her long nose into dozens of different informational pamphlets. By the time Thane returns to her side Jane has sweet talked Bailey into letting the boy off with community service and regretfully identity the warning stages of the Hanar equivalent to STDS.

“How many times must we have this conversation. Lysandre?” 

Apart from the first instance, it frustrates him each and every time because, no matter how consoling or truthful he is, the stubborn man never seems to accept his answer. Huffing quietly, he mumbles something about them needing to communicate better before he rises from his seat, a neat stack of papers held with two hands. 

“People keep telling me the exact same thing. As if they know what’s best for me.” 

He glances to the still man who’s staring out his window, his shoulders tense and both fists curled against the small of his back. Biting back a sigh, the professor approaches until he comes to a stop beside him, eyes also fixed on the world beyond the glass. 

“Nobody really asks me what I want. If they did, then they’d know that I want you. All of you. You’re more than enough for me, Lysandre.” He shifts his document into one hand so that he can lay the other on the male’s arm. 

“I do deserve you.” It comes out bluntly. “And you deserve me.” The hand wanders up to his neck and then to his chin, turning it so that they can connect gazes. 

“We’re in this for the long-run, so you best get used to it. No more putting yourself down. I know it’s difficult, but whenever you feel like you’re going to, just remember this conversation. You remember that I love you and whatever flaws you see in yourself.” As if to further prove his point, Augustine stands on tiptoes to boost himself up so that he can steal a brief kiss before backing off.

“And that’s the end of that, so don’t bring it up again.” 

mun’s favorite song & lyrics from it —

[ sobs i still have not watched that i am not emotionally prepared for it- ]

   she shouldn't have said anything.     far too often did she find herself struggling     to find the words that would suit what she     wanted to say. many regarded her as this     icon, this hero, that knew just what to say     regardless of situation.

    to be fair, when it came to encouraging her     crew or getting someone to cough up vital     information, there was utmost ease with whatever     she had to say. but when it came to     matters of the heart --     oh what a lost cause she was.     " thane, i -- " few times she found herself      tongue tied like that. and she hated it.      she liked being in control, knowing exactly      what to do and when. and she just was in      control mere minutes ago. why the falter?

     it was the look in his eyes. the way he also      seemed to stumble with finding the right words      to tell her. she knew the gravity of her words,      much like when she fired a lethal shot, she knew      it would end a life. but now --