[There's so much more to say, but the last thing going on will do is fix matters. Garrus shuts up and follows her in silence. The silence continues as she pulls stuff out and then offers the bottle to him.
Garrus takes it, not even really looking at the label. Why now? But it reminds him of something he's been holding on to for a while and just hasn't had the chance to give it to her. ...And won't, yet. It would seem too much like a cheap gesture. Later. Later, when he can grab it and bring her over and there's nothing hanging over their heads, and please let them have that day.]
There are even a couple of people here that can drink it now. Plus I've got some of the nice neutral-chirality wine. Could make an evening of it, one of these days.
[His voice isn't as casual as he'd like it to be, making the sentence more into a question than a statement as his eyes search hers. They're not Commander and officer anymore, but they could still keep the other part of what they had, if she's willing.]
[She's not the kind of person who makes a habit of shrugging - or if she ever was, it's something she'd mostly forgotten how to do in the thirteen years since she enlisted. But she shrugs now because she doesn't really know what to say to that. It's not a no, not a yes, just--
(Because she gets it, understands the point of all this. His reasoning isn't bad, she just wants him to be angrier about it. More offended. He's supposed to be mad for her, not apologetic about the rings the CDC is forcing him through. They're both supposed to be angry about it.)
She leans back down, snapping the ammo box shut.]
Let's not make any plans while we've got this crap happening on deck. Knowing our luck, the whole damn ship will blow up before then. [It's a mild kind of evasion as she wrestles the box back into the storage space under the bunk. She's not ready to give him anything more than that. Not yet. When she's done, she straightens - dusts her hands on her hips even though there isn't anything really to wipe off.]
[His mandibles are drawn as close to his face as they can be. Congratulations on the promotion. It sounds on the level, real, but he knows what it has to cost. He's served under her for almost her entire command, and the only time he hadn't been there the Normandy got blown apart. He's been with her through just about everything, and now he's a superior officer, having to make that line clear on the topic of duty, and there's nothing he can do to soften the blow.
But there it is. There's nothing he can do.
With a swallow, Garrus nods. He'd been proud of the promotion, filled with thoughts of helping more, of saving people, and there are two dead and he doesn't know what even to do about it other than keep patrolling. Isaac and Isabelle. He hadn't known them. The hurt isn't personal. But it seems like something Green should have been able to prevent, or even by now avenge.]
Thank you, Shepard.
[He can't call her commander. It will undermine everything he's said and probably feel like a slap in the face to her. Garrus takes another breath, nods again. Best not to draw this out. Best to give her some room, and then work on fixing it after she's had time to breathe.]
I should... hah. I'll go. But if you need me, you know how to find me.
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Garrus takes it, not even really looking at the label. Why now? But it reminds him of something he's been holding on to for a while and just hasn't had the chance to give it to her. ...And won't, yet. It would seem too much like a cheap gesture. Later. Later, when he can grab it and bring her over and there's nothing hanging over their heads, and please let them have that day.]
There are even a couple of people here that can drink it now. Plus I've got some of the nice neutral-chirality wine. Could make an evening of it, one of these days.
[His voice isn't as casual as he'd like it to be, making the sentence more into a question than a statement as his eyes search hers. They're not Commander and officer anymore, but they could still keep the other part of what they had, if she's willing.]
no subject
(Because she gets it, understands the point of all this. His reasoning isn't bad, she just wants him to be angrier about it. More offended. He's supposed to be mad for her, not apologetic about the rings the CDC is forcing him through. They're both supposed to be angry about it.)
She leans back down, snapping the ammo box shut.]
Let's not make any plans while we've got this crap happening on deck. Knowing our luck, the whole damn ship will blow up before then. [It's a mild kind of evasion as she wrestles the box back into the storage space under the bunk. She's not ready to give him anything more than that. Not yet. When she's done, she straightens - dusts her hands on her hips even though there isn't anything really to wipe off.]
Congratulations on the promotion, Garrus.
[And at least manages to make it sound genuine.]
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But there it is. There's nothing he can do.
With a swallow, Garrus nods. He'd been proud of the promotion, filled with thoughts of helping more, of saving people, and there are two dead and he doesn't know what even to do about it other than keep patrolling. Isaac and Isabelle. He hadn't known them. The hurt isn't personal. But it seems like something Green should have been able to prevent, or even by now avenge.]
Thank you, Shepard.
[He can't call her commander. It will undermine everything he's said and probably feel like a slap in the face to her. Garrus takes another breath, nods again. Best not to draw this out. Best to give her some room, and then work on fixing it after she's had time to breathe.]
I should... hah. I'll go. But if you need me, you know how to find me.