[It's a small battle not the settle on her heels, to cross her arms over her chest. She wishes for her rifle, slung over her shoulder and a familiar weight at her hip, so she could tuck her hand at the strap: sway back against it like leverage off a line. Instead she forces her arms to stay loose at her sides. Forces herself to stay forward on the balls of her feet instead of collapsing back into that habitual, defensive line.
Patience isn't her forte, but that doesn't mean she doesn't sometimes consider it as a concept. So Shepard let's him talk, let's the sideways look of his hang between them for a second - and then she flicks her eyes away, shifting her weight to scan the camp as it's laid out between them and the beach.
And then she swings her attention back around, the line of her shoulders unconsciously crisp.]
pls no i'm really scared of ghosts..........
Patience isn't her forte, but that doesn't mean she doesn't sometimes consider it as a concept. So Shepard let's him talk, let's the sideways look of his hang between them for a second - and then she flicks her eyes away, shifting her weight to scan the camp as it's laid out between them and the beach.
And then she swings her attention back around, the line of her shoulders unconsciously crisp.]
You know what this program's for, right?