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ichorous april has a time in mass effect
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"Oh, you know me, I'm kept healthy by the sullen flame of spite burning at the core of my being. —how is he?"

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"He's doing quite well, honestly. His shields absorbed most of the kinetic energy from the blast, and burns take very well to medi-gel. He did also have a rather severe concussion and some blood loss, but those aren't hard to handle. Frankly I'm more concerned with his mental state. I never knew Garrus as well as you did, but I don't remember a man reckless enough to stare down a gunship."

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"Yeah, that shit's my job."

She heads inside. Is his face totally awful? She bets his face is totally awful.

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It's pretty fucking gruesome! Not as bad as it was; his mandible is back in the locked and upright position, though still scaleless.

"Hey, Shepard," he grimaces. "Fancy meeting you here."

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"Hey, dickhead. You look like garbage. If you get your dumb ass killed I'm going to invent whatever black sorcery is necessary to bring you back from the dead just so I can punch you in the face."

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"I deserved that," he acknowledges. "You know, I'm told some women find facial scarring attractive. ...admittedly, most of those women are krogan."

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"I'm sure you'll look real cute with half your face melted off. The ladies will be lining up to hear the tale of what stupid stunt could possibly have left you in that state. ...it was admittely pretty badass but, like, are you okay? Because it seemed like maybe the kind of thing you do when you're not okay."

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"...I guess maybe I'm not as okay as I could be."

He sighs, then winces at the strain it puts on his mandible. "I... had a team. Did they tell you how that went down?"

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"There was a lot they didn't tell me. For example, they didn't tell me who 'Archangel' actually was."

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Garrus snorts, hisses with sudden pain. "Well. I had a team. We were interfering with the gangs... picking off gangsters, the worst of the worst, making the others think twice about what they were doing. And my team... there were twelve of them, plus me. We all worked together. Shored each other up. Made a difference."

"Then... I was out of the base, hunting down a lead on a Blue Suns bastard we'd been hunting for weeks. And. The base blew up. Somebody sold us out... rigged the munitions cache to blow. There was nothing left but a crater when I got back."

"I guess that made me a little less okay."

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She winces. "Ouch. No kidding. I'm sorry, man."

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"...yeah. Thanks. I'm gonna have Cerberus looking into who did betray me. If they don't somehow already know, which your Miranda kind of implied they might."

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"'My' Miranda knows many things, which, as discussed, she keeps not telling me. Feel free to wring it out of her at your leisure."

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"Nothing I'd love more... once I'm allowed out of bed. Somehow I feel like I might not be at my most intimidating right now."

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"That's fair. I have definitely seen you look more intimidating than this."

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"Was it that time with Saleon? It was probably the time with Saleon. That was fun."

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"You were very fearsome."

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Mordin wanders in, humming. "Shepard! Good to see you. Pleasure working with Dr. Chakwas. Consummate professional. Glad to see patient doing well, also. Wanted to run some tests on recovery speed, flexibility of reconstructed mandible, make final recommendation of recovery period."

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"Seems legit, should I get out of your way?"

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"Yes! Wait, human plausible-deniability mannerisms - only if you prefer. But yes."

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She laughs. "Don't worry about it. See you later."

Okay, now... hmm. Back to her room to write herself a cryptic memo about wanting to chat with Mordin later, actually. Then maybe a quick wander of the ship to see how everybody's doing before she decides where they should be heading next.

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People seem to be doing well! The engineers introduce themselves (Alliance servicemen who deserted after the Alliance publicly distanced itself from the "fringe theory" of the Reapers); the cook offers her a plate of nanosurimi California rolls; Miranda walks up to her as she passes the XO's office and says "Thought you should know I've informed our mutual acquaintance the Illusive Man that next time he fails to notify me of mission-relevant information because he thinks your emotions might compromise your judgment, I'm going to send him a shipping container with a live varren inside."

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"Thank you, I appreciate that."

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"I swear he's not usually that stupid. He just doesn't have human feelings and overcompensates for the feelings of others because he thinks they're some kind of mental illness."

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"That does sound like him."

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