Chapter Text
"Vakarian."
Garrus nearly jumps; Commander Shepard had appeared next to him without a sound, leaning against the Mako, datapad in hand. Her strange human accent is thick as she says something unintelligible, and he tries not to stare.
"Ah—could you repeat that?" he finally says. "I didn't catch what you said."
She switches back to English, which feeds through his translator. "Sorry, still shaking off the rust when it comes to Venian."
"'Shaking off the rust'?"
"Means I'm out of practice. I don't get much chance to use it." She lifts one shoulder, then lets it drop. "Anyways... take a look at this. Tell me what you think."
He catches the datapad she tosses over to him, and begins scanning the contents. He looks at it for a moment longer, then looks back up at the Commander.
Over his years with C-Sec, he's learned to read people. Even humans, as odd and stubbornly individualistic and inconsistent with their social cues they could be. But he still can't quite figure out Commander Shepard. One moment she'd criticized him for risking hitting a hostage, then in the same breath praised him for making such a clean shot.
"If you asked me..." he begins, his subvocals thrumming in wariness as he wondering if this is some sort of test. "That's a damned nice sniper rifle." Far nicer than the one he'd handed back to C-Sec requisitions when he'd resigned.
And far more expensive than what he could ever hope to afford on a C-Sec officer's salary.
"Yup." The word comes through untranslated, but he understands its meaning. "Grieco, he handles procurement and requisitions for us"—rocking back on her heels, she motions towards a human huddled over a workstation in the far corner of the cargo bay—"spotted it down in the Wards and asked the seller to hold it for a day. Yours if you want it."
"Commander." His mandibles flick. "It's really too—"
"Vakarian." She activates her omni-tool and transmit a navpoint to his own. "We're going after a rogue Spectre, and we're not doing it with that janky Hahne-Kedar shit the Alliance doles out. I've seen what you can do. Go and give it a few shots in the firing range, at least. If you don't like it, we'll find you something else."
"Very well, Commander." He suspects that if he tries to protest further, she'll just double down even more. And...
...well, it's a damned nice sniper rifle.
"Good. Be back by 0600—remember that's by the human clock—and don't get yourself in trouble." She takes the datapad back, one corner of her mouth turning up; a human expression he'd often seen, but never quite figured out the meaning of. (It'd be a lot easier if other races just had subvocals.) "I'd like to come along with you, but I've got a few last things to settle up back at the embassy. So... take Tali'Zorah with you. She needs to pick up a few things herself, but if any of Saren's thugs are still lurking around in the wards, I'm hoping a C-Sec officer trailing her will be a good deterrent."
He knew there'd be a catch. There always was.