[Ferdinand isn't sure if he should impose or not. He's sure Shepard has enough on her mind at the moment, but he'd also like some answers as to that text that was sent out to everyone a couple hours ago.
They also don't have an extraordinary amount of privacy, but he deems it wise to at least approach quietly and knock on the wall to announce his presence.]
Ah, I don't mean to bother you and I'm very sorry if I'm intruding. But...
[There's really only one question on his mind.] How are you doing?
[There's isn't much to intrude on. On entering the room, Shepard can be found sitting cross legged on the cold deck of their quarters with a blanket from her bunk spread out in front of her. There's a number of components, clearly a disassembled firearm, neatly lined up in crisp, ruler straight lines across the blanket and beside her knee lies a set of tools.
She doesn't look up when he knocks, squinting down the hollow metal barrel component in her hand. After a moment she flips it over, brings the brush in her other hand to it and begins to thoroughly scrub out the interior.]
Wishing I'd picked up an actual book on Selena instead of that media pass.
[Good thing for you that Shepard isn't really into light reading. If you have a technical manual lying around somewhere, that's probably your best bet Ferdinand.
She stubbornly continues scrubbing the firearm component for a few moments longer even as he's moved to stand over her. The sound of the wire bristles against the brushed metal is strangely loud in the compartment - an uneasy sshkh, sshkh like a heartbeat or an insect. Eventually she looks up, the back and forth grind of the brush arrested.]
[And it's here that he becomes a bit nervous. He and Shepard had never talked at length over anything and to be honest she intimidated him quite a bit. But when he'd received Armada's message, he couldn't help but be worried.
Especially with the events surrounding Optimus. The blonde clears his throat a little, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.]
I just wanted to see how you were. And ah, perhaps try to understand what happened.
[She flicks the brush and the barrel of the weapon in opposite directions, a vague kind of motion meant to indicate her immediate realm of existence. There isn't a lot to it drilling sarcasm aside.
Though its a knee jerk reaction and she seems to realize as much a moment later - the line of her mouth flickers tsutnand then she returns her attention to the work: sshkh, sshkh.]
[Good instincts on the seating choice, Ferdinand.]
I'm in time out. [For calling out bullshit, but she's not angry enough to use those exact words - not to Ferdinand. Not to one of her cadets.] I went slightly too above and beyond.
[The scratch of the brush hums between them a moment longer and then she withdraws it, setting it aside (exactly aligned with the tool nearest it) and takes a moment to blow the last few broken particles from the weapon component before she lays it neatly into the row of other clean pieces. She takes up the next, a cloth in her spare hand and resumes the weapon maintenance with a kind of rhythmic, ritualistic practice. If Shepard has any kind of religion, it's this.]
[He's been around for nearly five hundred years. Reading other's body language comes as naturally to him as open communication.]
I understand taking a back seat doesn't come naturally to you.
[Which is sort of an understatement. As long as he'd known her, Shepard had always struck him as someone who was not comfortable just standing by waiting for orders. To be honest, she was more apt at giving them and he wasn't exactly sure why she had not been allowed to when she had talent in that area.]
You're more qualified to give orders than I am, truthfully. Your personality is far more suited for it.
[His eyes watch her work, quietly appreciating the methodicalness of her motions. He's... well, he is somewhat religious but in a more universalist way than any set doctrine. But he can appreciate the ritualistic notions of it.]
But if I may speak my mind... perhaps there is something to be learned here. Speaking out and rebelling against the system set in place is... well, it only results in placing a figurative bull's eye on you.
To quote a famous leader from my home, sometimes it's best to "talk softly, and carry a big stick".
[It's ancient earth history, but the Villa hadn't just been good for night combat maneuvers and zero-g exercises. If she hadn't been book smart before she'd gone through N-School, she hadn't had the option to not be during. And as crusty as a foreign policy as it was, the armed forces (even an amalgamation like the Alliance) never forgot where they came from.]
I'm Navy so I like the one about five minutes being the difference between defeat and victory better.
[It's a brusque statement, chilly to the point that she might very well be blowing his advice out of the proverbial water. She turns the component in her hand, using her short fingernails to work the cloth into the grooves of the piece. There's little debris to be found there, but the practice is rote enough to settle.]
In my experience, stroking egos on a compromised field instead of getting the job done is a great way to start racking up the body count.
[Which actually makes him smile a bit. As long as they'd been room mates, Ferdinand had rarely probed into Shepard's background--mostly as as a respect for privacy but also because she was... quite frankly... intimidating. Still, it pleases him to realize that she's from a similar universe, if not the exact same time.]
...And that was Lord Nelson, I believe? I remember him... he was a very good leader as well.
[He watches her continue to go through her ritualistic cleaning, un-moving other than his gaze.]
Perhaps you are correct. But in this situation, all we can do is attempt to protect those who do not have the skills to survive, while appealing to our instructors for guidance. It's somewhat of a catch-twenty two. It isn't a perfect system by any means, and if you would like for me to personally inform you of the details I would be willing to share them.
[Something in her bristles over it, a flicker of something like real anger in the line of her shoulders - the angle of her neck as her head is bowed over her work. Because isn't that what she'd been doing? She'd spoken to leads, had chased the chain of command - not kindly and not passively, but for good reason. People were dead and missing and how anyone had the patience to be idle, to wait for guidance when there was something to be done wasn't something she understood - wasn't something she could sympathize with.
There's a muscle in her cheek; it's getting a work out. She sets the component in her hands aside and picks up another. Finally she says:]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ACTION; sometime after Armada's message
They also don't have an extraordinary amount of privacy, but he deems it wise to at least approach quietly and knock on the wall to announce his presence.]
Ah, I don't mean to bother you and I'm very sorry if I'm intruding. But...
[There's really only one question on his mind.] How are you doing?
no subject
She doesn't look up when he knocks, squinting down the hollow metal barrel component in her hand. After a moment she flips it over, brings the brush in her other hand to it and begins to thoroughly scrub out the interior.]
Wishing I'd picked up an actual book on Selena instead of that media pass.
no subject
I have a few if you'd like to borrow them. Though they're fairly heavy on subject material... aside for one.
[He had bought one cheap romance novel. He wasn't really keen on letting it be known, but if Shepard wanted to read it he wasn't going to object.]
no subject
[Good thing for you that Shepard isn't really into light reading. If you have a technical manual lying around somewhere, that's probably your best bet Ferdinand.
She stubbornly continues scrubbing the firearm component for a few moments longer even as he's moved to stand over her. The sound of the wire bristles against the brushed metal is strangely loud in the compartment - an uneasy sshkh, sshkh like a heartbeat or an insect. Eventually she looks up, the back and forth grind of the brush arrested.]
Did you need something?
no subject
[And it's here that he becomes a bit nervous. He and Shepard had never talked at length over anything and to be honest she intimidated him quite a bit. But when he'd received Armada's message, he couldn't help but be worried.
Especially with the events surrounding Optimus. The blonde clears his throat a little, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves.]
I just wanted to see how you were. And ah, perhaps try to understand what happened.
no subject
[She flicks the brush and the barrel of the weapon in opposite directions, a vague kind of motion meant to indicate her immediate realm of existence. There isn't a lot to it drilling sarcasm aside.
Though its a knee jerk reaction and she seems to realize as much a moment later - the line of her mouth flickers tsutnand then she returns her attention to the work: sshkh, sshkh.]
I have no idea what anyone told you.
[But apparently something is getting around.]
no subject
[He deems it wise to take a seat. On the floor, but not actually on the blanket. That seems like sacred territory he doesn't really want to cross.
Instead, Ferdinand just folds his legs 'indian' style and rests his hands on either knee as he observes her work.]
Aside from learning that you cannot be reached for seventy two hours... yet here we are.
no subject
I'm in time out. [For calling out bullshit, but she's not angry enough to use those exact words - not to Ferdinand. Not to one of her cadets.] I went slightly too above and beyond.
[The scratch of the brush hums between them a moment longer and then she withdraws it, setting it aside (exactly aligned with the tool nearest it) and takes a moment to blow the last few broken particles from the weapon component before she lays it neatly into the row of other clean pieces. She takes up the next, a cloth in her spare hand and resumes the weapon maintenance with a kind of rhythmic, ritualistic practice. If Shepard has any kind of religion, it's this.]
no subject
I understand taking a back seat doesn't come naturally to you.
[Which is sort of an understatement. As long as he'd known her, Shepard had always struck him as someone who was not comfortable just standing by waiting for orders. To be honest, she was more apt at giving them and he wasn't exactly sure why she had not been allowed to when she had talent in that area.]
You're more qualified to give orders than I am, truthfully. Your personality is far more suited for it.
[His eyes watch her work, quietly appreciating the methodicalness of her motions. He's... well, he is somewhat religious but in a more universalist way than any set doctrine. But he can appreciate the ritualistic notions of it.]
But if I may speak my mind... perhaps there is something to be learned here. Speaking out and rebelling against the system set in place is... well, it only results in placing a figurative bull's eye on you.
To quote a famous leader from my home, sometimes it's best to "talk softly, and carry a big stick".
no subject
[It's ancient earth history, but the Villa hadn't just been good for night combat maneuvers and zero-g exercises. If she hadn't been book smart before she'd gone through N-School, she hadn't had the option to not be during. And as crusty as a foreign policy as it was, the armed forces (even an amalgamation like the Alliance) never forgot where they came from.]
I'm Navy so I like the one about five minutes being the difference between defeat and victory better.
[It's a brusque statement, chilly to the point that she might very well be blowing his advice out of the proverbial water. She turns the component in her hand, using her short fingernails to work the cloth into the grooves of the piece. There's little debris to be found there, but the practice is rote enough to settle.]
In my experience, stroking egos on a compromised field instead of getting the job done is a great way to start racking up the body count.
no subject
[Which actually makes him smile a bit. As long as they'd been room mates, Ferdinand had rarely probed into Shepard's background--mostly as as a respect for privacy but also because she was... quite frankly... intimidating. Still, it pleases him to realize that she's from a similar universe, if not the exact same time.]
...And that was Lord Nelson, I believe? I remember him... he was a very good leader as well.
[He watches her continue to go through her ritualistic cleaning, un-moving other than his gaze.]
Perhaps you are correct. But in this situation, all we can do is attempt to protect those who do not have the skills to survive, while appealing to our instructors for guidance. It's somewhat of a catch-twenty two. It isn't a perfect system by any means, and if you would like for me to personally inform you of the details I would be willing to share them.
no subject
There's a muscle in her cheek; it's getting a work out. She sets the component in her hands aside and picks up another. Finally she says:]
I won't say no to intel if you're offering it.