"The Care & Feeding of Spectres" -- 1a/? -- FShep/OC!M!Turian
anonymous
February 1 2013, 20:37:43 UTC
Shepard had set up camp in the corner of the Councilor’s office. Hadn’t even really given him a choice. She just showed up each day with her datapads and some coffee or tea, and read through the reports. Sometimes she wrote them.
Once, he’d tried to get her to leave, and she’d just given him this look that had him scurrying out of his own office. She was generally a level-headed individual, but sometimes she had a temper. He’d dealt with the aftermath of it at least once, when she punched a reporter on a live feed. So rather than tempting fate, he just let her have it.
It got to the point where Shepard’s absence was more noteworthy than her presence. Humans who came to speak to the ambassador often had to deal with her sarcastic commentary. They got used to it. When Shepard did things, one just got used to it.
Udina wasn’t entirely pleased, but what was he going to do?
Between Jane and Hannah, his life could be made very difficult very easily. Those Shepard women, they were a force to be reckoned with. It showed in their service records. Both of them were decorated war heroes, Jane more recently than Hannah. Though he wouldn’t call his reluctance to confront her a fear; more a healthy respect for the women.
For her part, Jane Shepard was happily oblivious to Councilor Udina’s irritation. His office was conveniently close to the other embassies, and C-Sec was reasonably accessible. It was private enough that she didn’t have to worry about others reading confidential reports over her shoulder, and the view of the presidium was lovely from there.
As time wore on, Shepard found herself spending later and later nights in Udina’s office. It went largely unnoticed; time was sometimes strange on the Citadel, with its lack of clear days and nights, but the Presidium was the exception. On the Presidium, particularly the diplomatic areas, work began somewhere around 0900 and wrapped up by 1800, so most nights, Shepard had the room to herself.
Shepard had known it was only a matter of time before her late nights were discovered. The real question had always been who would discover her, and what would happen when they did.
"The Care & Feeding of Spectres" -- 1b/? -- FShep/OC!M!Turian
anonymous
February 1 2013, 20:39:09 UTC
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t think anyone was still in here.” The surprised turian voice woke her, and she was on her feet, pistol in hand, her enemy pinned against the wall before she processed what was going on. As she finished waking, she recognized several things: First, it was the middle of the night. The presidium was dark and she’d fallen asleep in Udina’s office again. Second, she had bodychecked a very large turian into the wall beside the office door, and her pistol was, at present, pressed to his forehead. And finally, he was startlingly attractive for a turian.
The thoughts came in rapidfire succession. Shepard flushed, and withdrew the gun, placing it back in its holster. She stepped away, and offered the turian a smile. He didn’t move. She couldn’t be sure if it was because of the initial attack, or if it was because he was anticipating another one.
“Sorry,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “I don’t uh, make a habit of doing things like that, really.”
He relaxed slightly, his hands dropping to his sides, his mandibles fluttering slightly as he did his best to smile reassuringly. Turian faces were different, and each turian emoted to humans differently. Sometimes she wished they were like the elcor, and then she pictured the elcor, and was grateful that they were not, in fact, elcor.
She needed sleep. That much became clear to her as she realized she was mentally rambling to herself about the differences between turians and elcor.
“No harm done, ma’am.” His voice was light, warm with just that hint of turian inflection. He stepped away from her, back toward his cart, which he began to push out the door. “I’ll just come back later.”
“Oh, no!” Shepard interrupted him with a light hand on his arm. He froze, glanced down at it and then back at her. She pulled her hand away quickly, mentally chastising herself for not remembering that Aliens have different rules about physical contact. “Don’t let me disturb you, do what you were going to do. I’m just going to get my things and head out.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, reservation clear in his voice.
“Yes, please. Just do what you were going to do. I’ll be out of your way soon.” Shepard snuck some sidelong glances at him as she stuffed her things into her bag. She wasn’t positive about Alien standards, but she was fairly sure her new friend was homely by turian standards. His shoulders were a little too broad, his waist a little too thick. His hips were wide, yes, but so were his thighs, and the gap between them was too narrow to be “desirable,” if she understood the cultural readings she’d done correctly.
Garrus, for example, was a known specimen of turian perfection. He was tall, his build the right balance of broad chest and slender waist. His fringe was well-groomed and of ideal length. She understood that he was attractive, could even see it herself, but... it was Garrus. She loved him, yes, but it was more brotherly. He was her awkward alien best friend, and he wasn’t into humans.
Besides, she’d always had a thing for burly men.
“I didn’t happen to catch your name...” she began.
“Oh, uh, Silus Imbrex.”
“Nice to meet you, Silus.” Jane smiled at him as she left the room. “I’ll probably see you again soon.”
Once, he’d tried to get her to leave, and she’d just given him this look that had him scurrying out of his own office. She was generally a level-headed individual, but sometimes she had a temper. He’d dealt with the aftermath of it at least once, when she punched a reporter on a live feed. So rather than tempting fate, he just let her have it.
It got to the point where Shepard’s absence was more noteworthy than her presence. Humans who came to speak to the ambassador often had to deal with her sarcastic commentary. They got used to it. When Shepard did things, one just got used to it.
Udina wasn’t entirely pleased, but what was he going to do?
Between Jane and Hannah, his life could be made very difficult very easily. Those Shepard women, they were a force to be reckoned with. It showed in their service records. Both of them were decorated war heroes, Jane more recently than Hannah. Though he wouldn’t call his reluctance to confront her a fear; more a healthy respect for the women.
For her part, Jane Shepard was happily oblivious to Councilor Udina’s irritation. His office was conveniently close to the other embassies, and C-Sec was reasonably accessible. It was private enough that she didn’t have to worry about others reading confidential reports over her shoulder, and the view of the presidium was lovely from there.
As time wore on, Shepard found herself spending later and later nights in Udina’s office. It went largely unnoticed; time was sometimes strange on the Citadel, with its lack of clear days and nights, but the Presidium was the exception. On the Presidium, particularly the diplomatic areas, work began somewhere around 0900 and wrapped up by 1800, so most nights, Shepard had the room to herself.
Shepard had known it was only a matter of time before her late nights were discovered. The real question had always been who would discover her, and what would happen when they did.
One night, she found out.
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First, it was the middle of the night. The presidium was dark and she’d fallen asleep in Udina’s office again. Second, she had bodychecked a very large turian into the wall beside the office door, and her pistol was, at present, pressed to his forehead. And finally, he was startlingly attractive for a turian.
The thoughts came in rapidfire succession. Shepard flushed, and withdrew the gun, placing it back in its holster. She stepped away, and offered the turian a smile. He didn’t move. She couldn’t be sure if it was because of the initial attack, or if it was because he was anticipating another one.
“Sorry,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “I don’t uh, make a habit of doing things like that, really.”
He relaxed slightly, his hands dropping to his sides, his mandibles fluttering slightly as he did his best to smile reassuringly. Turian faces were different, and each turian emoted to humans differently. Sometimes she wished they were like the elcor, and then she pictured the elcor, and was grateful that they were not, in fact, elcor.
She needed sleep. That much became clear to her as she realized she was mentally rambling to herself about the differences between turians and elcor.
“No harm done, ma’am.” His voice was light, warm with just that hint of turian inflection. He stepped away from her, back toward his cart, which he began to push out the door. “I’ll just come back later.”
“Oh, no!” Shepard interrupted him with a light hand on his arm. He froze, glanced down at it and then back at her. She pulled her hand away quickly, mentally chastising herself for not remembering that Aliens have different rules about physical contact. “Don’t let me disturb you, do what you were going to do. I’m just going to get my things and head out.”
“If you’re sure,” he said, reservation clear in his voice.
“Yes, please. Just do what you were going to do. I’ll be out of your way soon.” Shepard snuck some sidelong glances at him as she stuffed her things into her bag. She wasn’t positive about Alien standards, but she was fairly sure her new friend was homely by turian standards. His shoulders were a little too broad, his waist a little too thick. His hips were wide, yes, but so were his thighs, and the gap between them was too narrow to be “desirable,” if she understood the cultural readings she’d done correctly.
Garrus, for example, was a known specimen of turian perfection. He was tall, his build the right balance of broad chest and slender waist. His fringe was well-groomed and of ideal length. She understood that he was attractive, could even see it herself, but... it was Garrus. She loved him, yes, but it was more brotherly. He was her awkward alien best friend, and he wasn’t into humans.
Besides, she’d always had a thing for burly men.
“I didn’t happen to catch your name...” she began.
“Oh, uh, Silus Imbrex.”
“Nice to meet you, Silus.” Jane smiled at him as she left the room. “I’ll probably see you again soon.”
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