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“Hey now, hey now, hold on a minute!” Gardner shouted at them all.
Shepard froze, halfway through pouring another drink, and shot him a look. The crew stopped their cheering and clamoring. “What?”
“You can’t start drinking. We haven’t even eaten yet.” He crossed his arms. It was probably the most stern he had ever looked.
“We need to wait on the drinking until after we eat?” Shepard didn’t bother to hide the incredulousness in her voice.
Gardner sighed. “Yes. It’s tradition. You’re telling me you don’t have holiday traditions?”
Shepard raised an eyebrow and cocked her hip. “Can’t say I do.”
Gardner rolled his eyes and grumbled something about heathens under his breath before straightening to attention with his hands behind his back. “Then, with all due respect ma’am, I think we ought to make one.”
The crew shot various looks between the two parties, an uncertain tension brewing in the air. Shepard’s eyebrow was still raised and almost looked to be transforming into a glower. Gardner hadn’t even blinked.
“Alright,” she grumbled. Everyone let out the breaths they’d been holding. Shepard smirked at them. “What are we having?”
Gardner grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Roasted pyjack.”
The crew cheered and Shepard raised her hands to quiet them, though a grin was creeping across her face. “Sounds great, Sergeant. Where are we eating?”
She swore she saw a twinkle in the man’s eyes as he began moving in his little kitchenette. “Everyone, push all the tables together and gather round!” he shouted over his should as he leaned down to, presumably, pull the pyjack out of the oven.
Shepard shook her head as she turned away and began helping one of the crewman lift a tables. Garrus sidled up next to her, bumping her with his hip as he did.
He leaned down until his face was only an inch from her ear. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were going soft.”
She bopped him in the mouth with her head. Lightly. Even as she smiled. “Shove it, Vakarian.”