Scars
"You want to know how I got this?" she said. She took his fingers and traced the stark line across her face. "I remember that was one of the big money bets on the Normandy."
"I want to know everything about you," he replied. They were in a seedy mostly Turian bar where she felt safe no one would recognize them. She was a drink and a half in and already tipsy enough to be affectionate.
"I ran into an open door when I was six. Split half my face open," she said. "Everyone had those elaborate theories. I got it on Akuze. I did something badass in N7. I got it in a fight over my folders. Nope. I just walked into a door."
"I can't believe you did that," he said. He took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers.
"That's because you had money on the folders," she said. He's still not sure if she's telling the truth, but he doesn't care. Her smile's wolfish and dangerous, the kind she knows better than to do in front of other people, but he thinks he likes it.