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In the cramped cupboard in which Shepard and Garrus found themselves, she pressed her stiletto-clad foot firmly against the wall, pulling her elegant ball gown up. "Seriously, Shepard? Here? Now?” he drawled as another bullet hit the door. A mission devoid of armour and weapons?! A simple in and out, right? Why was she smirking? Leisurely trailing her hand along the interior of her stocking, she casually acknowledged, “Yeah, yeah, I owe you fifty credits,” and unveiled a couple of tiny, undetectable Spectre grenades at the top of her thigh. Even in a tight spot, Shepard always had a weapon.