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“I heard this was the best place for food in Zakera Ward.”
Garrus is busy scrolling through the dextro kiosk at the cafe, his focus leveled on searching for a particular spice blend Tali asked him to keep an eye out for, and doesn’t notice Shepard stiffen. Doesn’t notice her jaw clench, doesn’t notice her eyes narrow, doesn’t notice her subtle glare at the other customer.
“You heard wrong. This is the best place for food in the whole damn Citadel.”
Nor does he notice her draw up to her full height - all five-feet-two-and-a-half inches of it, four inches if you count the boots (she counts the boots) - and turn to the gentleman behind the counter with an expression slightly more murderous than she wore whenever she hung up with the Council two years ago.
He does, however, notice Zaeed’s elbow sharply jammed into his side.
He tilts his head at Zaeed, who tilts his head at the short ball of purple-armored anger at the other side of the cafe.
Oh.
Garrus cancels his order - they didn’t have the spice anyway - and takes the four steps across the cafe to intercept Shepard. Zaeed’s right behind him, trying to make the whole thing look inconspicuous, like they aren’t trying to stop a fistfight over cupcakes before it can start.
“Move,” she hisses.
“Shepard,” he says, in his best Please Don’t Do Something Stupid, They Took Away Your Spectre Status And I Don’t Have Any Weight With C-Sec Anymore voice.
“Garrus,” she says through clenched teeth, countering him with her Please Get Out Of My Way, Don’t Make Me Go Through You voice.
Normally, he’d pay attention. He’s seen what happens when people don’t move.
But as it stands, this isn’t situation normal for them, and he’s willing to take his chances if it means he doesn’t have to bail her out of a C-Sec cell.
“No,” he shakes his head.
More importantly, he’s willing to take his chances if it means not having to explain to Hannah why they’re late for lunch.
“They’re wrong,” she says.
“We know,” Zaeed says, stepping in next to Garrus and fully blocking Shepard’s view of the two men discussing superlative restaurant rankings. “But is Commander Shepard Arrested For Assault Over Cupcake Dispute really a headline you want to explain to your mother?”
Garrus looks at the other man in approval; good that they’re both thinking the same thing about how to back Shepard out of this. Play up the Hannah angle, downplay that it’s just a bad idea. Bad ideas seem to attract her attention like shiny objects.
Shepard frowns. Her nose scrunches up and she no longer looks like the commanding soldier, but instead a bit like a petulant child.
Garrus bites back a laugh, but can’t quite manage to keep his mandibles from fluttering in amusement. From the way Zaeed shifts his weight beside him, Garrus would wager Zaeed’s having the same problem.
“Fine,” she says, giving into them with a glare that says she’s clearly not happy about it. She turns on her heel and walks out, leaving the men at the counter completely unaware of their mercifully-avoided fate.
“But,” she turns so abruptly once she’s three steps out of the cafe that Garrus nearly bumps into her. “I’m not buying Rupert’s supplies from this place, so you two get to explain to the crew why they’re eating tasteless mush for another week and a half until we stop off at Illium.”
“Because their CO nearly punched the owner over his opinion about the quality of baked goods on the Citadel.” Garrus says.
Zaeed lifts an eyebrow.
Shepard opens her mouth, and then closes it again and tilts her head to the side. “Yeah, I’m glad I tried that out on you guys first. We’ll say they didn’t have any.” She looks up at them. “Let’s go get lunch.”
***
Every time they walk past the Cafe afterward, Garrus hears her muttering “I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my least favorite restaurant on the Citadel.”