Shepard hates dresses.
All right, maybe that's not strictly true. She likes the way they look on other women - but they just don't suit her. Her idea of formalwear is Alliance mess dress, or a tailored pantsuit if she has to wear civvies. And maybe it's because the hotel is so contrary that the only thing it's left her to wear tonight is...
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"Might be." Her brows arch. "Looking for someone?"
If he's her companion for the night... well, he's late, but she's not gonna get on his case about it.
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"Always." He says with a soft chuckle, holding up the note that had been slipped under his door, "but tonight, with a rather curious reason." Michael shifts on his feet and steps close to the table, picking up the open bottle of wine to freshen her glass without sitting down. "If you want to found."
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Her smile broadens, very slightly, as she sees the note in his hand. "So you got one too." And then, a little teasingly, "I guess we're stuck with each other."
There are definitely worse people she could be stuck with.
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