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.
"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
( ... )
"Food, for one," Shepard added and motioned to the cabinet with her coffee hand. She didn't even try to debate the idea that she only kept him around to screw with Joker. She kept everyone around to screw with Joker, especially Joker
( ... )
"Hey, I'm used to crappy food. I lived on Omega, remember?" That was a joke. Really. Maybe he's getting past the bitching stage. Maybe. He drained what was left of his coffee and then, after a moment of reflection, went to get another cup. Hell, why not?
"I'll keep all of that in mind. Don't let Virgil get to the food first. Right." He laughed and then turned back toward Shepard with his fresh cup. Just in time to catch that long, hard look. He puased, blinked and stared right back.
Not quite the slightly disconcerting, sharp stare of a turian. But it was as close as he could get it, all things considered.
"...what was that look for? And what's weird?" He replied as he reached up to snag the syringe out of the air.
Somehow, having her stare returned with a human version of that look was more disconcerting than his standard expression. At least she was completely convinced that it was him, at this point. No agent could play her this well.
Still, now that he'd gotten a little past his bitching stage, she wasn't going to push him back into it with a complaint about how turian he wasn't.
"That you didn't reappear with all that face-paint," Shepard joked, flatly. "Clearly you should go take care of that. Someone might actually mistake you for human."
"My face-paint...?" Oh, right, colony markings. He ran a hand over his (distressingly) smooth chin with a sigh. "...I probably should reapply those. Just for the sake of it."
Now that he thought about it, it felt weird to be without those markings. "...It feels a bit odd not to have them. Even when I'm human. They're such a big part of being a turian."
"Better than drowning myself in misery," he replied wryly. Well, drowning himself in misery again. He'd become far too good at that on Omega. He wasn't about to repeat that any time soon.
"Well... I'll have to adjust my stock if I don't go back to normal. Otherwise, no. Shouldn't be too much of a problem."
He hoped.
"I'd suggest not using the transporter anytime soon."
"Don't plan on it," Shepard informed him with a short nod. She liked turians but had no urge to become one...assuming the situation wasn't more convoluted than that.
"Possible this will get fixed shortly," she added with a shrug. Statistically, this station had a habit of going insane for short periods of time and then being corrected. Only occasionally had she really needed to become directly involved. It might sort itself out. She didn't want to entertain the possibility of this being permanent, despite the inherent optimism in that refusal. Shepard was not optimistic, as a rule. However, this was going to get awkward and fast it it was permanent.
"I'll keep an eye on the network." Who was she kidding? It was already awkward. "I should go. See if anyone else experienced a...similar incident."
"Hope so. I like being a turian," Garrus grumbled. And that was the end of that particular line of thought, because the idea of being stuck as a human wasn't a particularly pleasant one. He ran hand through his hair (he had hair) and nodded.
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"I'll keep all of that in mind. Don't let Virgil get to the food first. Right." He laughed and then turned back toward Shepard with his fresh cup. Just in time to catch that long, hard look. He puased, blinked and stared right back.
Not quite the slightly disconcerting, sharp stare of a turian. But it was as close as he could get it, all things considered.
"...what was that look for? And what's weird?" He replied as he reached up to snag the syringe out of the air.
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Still, now that he'd gotten a little past his bitching stage, she wasn't going to push him back into it with a complaint about how turian he wasn't.
"That you didn't reappear with all that face-paint," Shepard joked, flatly. "Clearly you should go take care of that. Someone might actually mistake you for human."
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Now that he thought about it, it felt weird to be without those markings. "...It feels a bit odd not to have them. Even when I'm human. They're such a big part of being a turian."
He waved his mug and then took a long drink.
"...you probably don't want to hear me complain."
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Though, the situation was incredibly abnormal, so he'd get some leeway.
"Might not fit your face right," Shepard warned. "But go for it. Might as well do something to take your mind off the sudden DNA shift."
Shepard paused and considered something in silence. After a beat, she added:
"Least firing a weapon won't be much of a change."
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"Well... I'll have to adjust my stock if I don't go back to normal. Otherwise, no. Shouldn't be too much of a problem."
He hoped.
"I'd suggest not using the transporter anytime soon."
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"Possible this will get fixed shortly," she added with a shrug. Statistically, this station had a habit of going insane for short periods of time and then being corrected. Only occasionally had she really needed to become directly involved. It might sort itself out. She didn't want to entertain the possibility of this being permanent, despite the inherent optimism in that refusal. Shepard was not optimistic, as a rule. However, this was going to get awkward and fast it it was permanent.
"I'll keep an eye on the network." Who was she kidding? It was already awkward. "I should go. See if anyone else experienced a...similar incident."
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"Same. I'll see you later, Shepard."
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