(no subject)
Commander Shepard is sitting cross-legged on a bench in a park near the Conrad, dressed in civvies and is, in no uncertain terms, very upset. She has her pistol folded up an inactive, concealed inside the jacket she's wearing, and she's glowering intently at anyone who stops to look at her, thereby scaring them off.
"Fucking Rift," she mutters under her breath. "Now who's going to stop the fucking Reapers? Can't expect my dumbass crew to do it, they're lost without me. What the fuck am I going to do...?"
Anyone passing through the area could decide to try to talk to her. She might not respond, but they could try.
"Fucking Rift," she mutters under her breath. "Now who's going to stop the fucking Reapers? Can't expect my dumbass crew to do it, they're lost without me. What the fuck am I going to do...?"
Anyone passing through the area could decide to try to talk to her. She might not respond, but they could try.