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'Does anyone ever sit in this chair?'
Joker almost jumped out of his skin. He’d been staring at the screen in a trance, watching the dot of the ship making its way through a pre-plotted course through the star system. An uncomfortable twist of his neck revealed the new Commander leaning against the wall at the entrance to the control room. She’d been on the Normandy for a few days, but he hadn’t seen her since Anderson had given her the grand tour.
'Never seen a co-pilot's chair before?'
Her smile was tentative, as if she weren’t quite sure whether or not he was joking. 'I have. There’s usually a co-pilot sitting in it.'
'Don’t need one.'
'Right,' she cleared her throat and took a few steps to lean against the back of the empty chair. 'Best pilot in the Alliance, was it?'
Joker smirked, standing just a little straighter. 'You read my file.'
'Your file says you’re a pain in the ass and allergic to regs. The other thing came from the crew.'
'Huh,' he paused, considering the information. 'Not what I expected them to say.'
'They also said you were a pain in the ass and allergic to regs.'
Joker let out a snort. He hadn’t expected this from the woman standing in his control room looking like a deer in headlights. 'Yeah, that tracks.'
'Is that why no-one sits here?'
'I just told you why.'
'No.' She tilted her head, looking somewhere near his right shoulder. 'I know why you don’t need a co-pilot, not why the chair is empty. There isn’t much room for personal space on this ship, the CIC is pretty cramped. Yet here you are, alone in a room that could comfortably house four or five people.'
Joker felt irritation rising like tendrils in his chest. What the hell did she want from him? 'Is this a "sharing is caring" lecture? Because I’m not chasing people away with a broomstick here, I don’t see anyone lining up to hang out in my bachelor pad.'
'This isn’t a lecture, it’s a question. Sorry if I overstepped.'
The tendrils retreated an inch. 'Right. No. You’re good. Just not sure why you’re asking is all.'
She shrugged – a jerky, unnatural movement. 'Just figuring out if the seat was taken.'
Joker let out something between a huff and a laugh. 'You’re messing with me.' But she only frowned in confusion.
'Why would I do that?'
There was a pause as the question hung in the air. Why indeed? Would the new Commander bother to come into his cockpit acting like she’d never had a human conversation, only to test him in some way? What was the alternative? He shook off the thought. Reading people had never been his strong suit, and if this was some kind of test, he didn’t particularly care if he passed or failed.
'Chair’s all yours, Commander. Make yourself at home.'
She hesitated a moment before dropping into the seat, looking straight ahead at endless scattered stars. He went back to course calibrations and function checks. The silence that followed was tense, then awkward, until Joker looked at the time on the control screen and realised an hour had passed and he had completely forgotten she was there. Curiosity got the better of him as he chanced a look from under his cap. She sat in ill-fitting casual fatigues, legs drawn up against her chest. She held a datapad in her left hand, the other slung over her knees and supporting her chin. Her right index finger absently picked at the skin around her thumbnail, a persistent habit judging from the state of it. Strands of red hair had slipped from behind her ears and fallen in front of her face, and her periodic attempts to push them out of the way revealed clouds of freckles under tired eyes. When she looked up, he pretended to fiddle with the controls on one of the side screens.
'About your file,' she said, cutting through the silence like a blunt knife. 'It mentions something about Vrolik’s syndrome?'
Joker shut his eyes for a second, breathing out through his teeth. Of course, this was about his condition. It always was.
'I’m perfectly capable of flying this ship if that’s what you’re worried about, Commander. More than capable, actually. I’m the best pilot you’re gonna get.'
'Oh, I know.'
It stopped him in his tracks. He had a whole speech ready to go. Practised lines about his grades at the academy and commendations from previous postings. She looked at him with wide brown eyes, knees coming apart and legs crossing on the seat so she could lean forward. 'I was just going to ask if you needed any more accommodations. Alliance provisions aren’t what they should be.'
'I’m fine.' He tried not to sound defensive. He really did. 'I can do my job like anyone else, I don’t need special treatment.'
'It’s the bare minimum, really, and you’re not the only one I’ve asked.' She unfolded her legs and stood, straightening her fatigues on instinct. 'I won’t push, just know the option’s there if you want it.'
Shepard smiled, still hesitant, a little more relaxed. 'Thanks for letting me stay for a bit. Quiet helps.'
'Helps with what?' He wanted to ask. Instead, he said 'Anytime'. And part of him even meant it.