Work Text:
"The life of an N7 marine is forged from sacrifice," Rosa said into the slender microphone fixed atop the podium in front of her. Her sharp grey eyes scanned the ranks of newly minted N7s decked out in their dress uniforms, and for the millionth time she wished Anderson was here. He'd know what to say. "There isn't a soul in this room that hasn't sacrificed personal liberties, not to mention sleep, to hone yourselves into the elite soldiers that you are. And all with the knowledge that being the best may well one day mean dying the best, too."
