Shepard stared. She took another circuit of her hotel suite, returned to the starting position of her confusion, and reassessed. She is N7 and a Spectre. She could assess and reassess situations like her life depended on it, and it often did.
Her confusion was not abated.
Finally, with a shrug, she went to the console, typed in a series of codes that she needed her omnitool to list out for her and waited for Liara's face to show up.
"Hello, Shepard."
"Hello, Liara. I. Uh. I'm a little stumped right now and I figured that it's better to ask you because that way I don't accidentally cause a diplomatic incident with dummy-dumb-dumb human questions."
Liara's eyes crinkled with amusement.
"I recall that most diplomatic incidents where you are concerned have more to do with the barrel of your gun instead of words. But do go on."
"Okay. So I'm on Cipritine. I get the official tour. I get the hand shaking, small talking. I am swimming in my own sweat. It's HOT here, Liara."
Liara nodded.
"So finally, I'm let go so that the real diplomats can get to work and I'm in my hotel room and-"
Shepard pursed her lips.
"There's no shower or tub or anything. I'm staring at a toilet and a sink. Is this some kind of weirdly detailed prank? What gives?"
"It isn't a prank, Shepard. Private bathing facilities are an alien concept to turians, introduced only after their introduction into the wider galactic community."
And this was precisely why Shepard chose to call Liara instead of Garrus. (Besides not wanting to speak of personal hygiene stuff with a man.) Liara had that science-y tone when she spoke of alien cultures that forestalled embarrassment.
"...Okay. So what does that mean for me?"
"You will need the hotel concierge to give you a list of the nearest public bathhouses, Shepard."
Shepard envisioned the group shower stalls of boot camp. Okay. Sure. Why not? In fact, it made total, ironic sense that militaristic turian culture produced boot camp showering as a cultural norm.
"Okay. Will do. What's the etiquette, Liara? Strip, in and out in seven seconds, leave a tip? Or no tip? Nobody told me anything about tipping, by the way."
"You don't need to move at such speeds. You can't actually leave a bathhouse that quickly anyway, Shepard. They don't use water."
"...Huh. This is totally blowing my mind. It's actually alien, Liara. Because why would I assume like some human that turians use WATER to bathe? Incredible. You see how I could cause a diplomatic incident with ignorant human questions?"
Liara finally had to snicker.
"Turians rub oils onto their plates, which they then leave to set before scraping and rubbing off the excess. The process removes dirt, flakes from plate shedding, and improves the shine."
"Like car wax."
"Whatever metaphor works for you, Shepard."
"I guess it works for them, at least. It doesn't sound like it'd work for me."
"Try it out first," Liara was typing away and lights from activating screens flicked across her face. "Asari diplomats haven't been having any trouble with the local method, so it seems like you don't need plates to feel clean."
"Okay. Mission accepted. I'm going out to get detailed. Maybe I'll get an air freshener to wear around my neck after."
Liara shook her head fondly before waving and shutting off the connection.
tbc