The Times, They Are A-Changin'

[savor_last_shot]

Who: Garrus, open to Normandy haus.
Where: Normandy House
What: Garrus is human; hilarity ensues.
When: Afternoon.
Warnings: Possible anaphylactic shock, probably swearing, maybe violence.

Comments

[cmdr_renegade]

While Shepard had become relatively accustomed to various assholes trundling up and down the stairs (of whatever structure they were currently using as a base of operations) with no regard for how much noise they were causing, something was off about this particular incident. It was too early in the morning for anyone drunk to be moving with that much hustle and no accompanying explosions, and the sound of that heavy stride was completely unfamiliar. Shepard didn't like waking up to unfamiliar and she particularly disliked waking up to unfamiliar people charging headlong into rooms just outside the ones she slept in

[savor_last_shot]

Normally, Garrus would've been able to put up at least a semblance of resistance, even taken by surprise. But this body moved in unfamiliar ways, his reach wasn't what it had been and didn't bend in the right ways. His reaction time seemed slower. He felt the wind go out of him as someone slammed into him and then pain blossomed up his arm; arm-lock. He knew that much and he didn't have the leverage to break out of it. A moment later, he felt his face slam into the mirror.

Ow.

Why did humans have to be so soft? That hurt. He kicked for a moment, but froze when he recognized Shepard's voice.

Well, at least he wasn't about to get killed.

Probably.

"Shepard, it's me, dammit!"

[cmdr_renegade]

"Yeah. Good try, but no cigar," Shepard replied flatly and tightened her grip on his pinned wrist. Her gun was pressed firmly against the side of his head. She was honestly prepared to shoot him, but something in that statement gave her just a brief moment of pause. That was a red-flag. Something about that voice...was offhandedly familiar

[savor_last_shot]

"It's me!" Spirits, how did she not realize this? And his arm was starting to scream at him even more. Not to mention that being on the wrong end of Shepard's pistol was a very, very uncomfortable experience. One that he really had no desire to repeat in the near future.

If he lived to see the near future, anyway.

"Garrus! You pulled me off of Omega!"

He took a deep breath (human lung capacity seemed about the same - maybe less). She didn't know about this particular detail (he thought), but it should prove his identity. "...check my visor. It has the names of my squadmates burned into it."

Hopefully, that would be enough proof for her. Otherwise, he'd have to think of something else that might persuade her that he wasn't some random nutjob off of the street.