If Joker felt particularly spirited one day, he would commence a yowling of words that he said would "woo" EDI. He kept the actual stereo volume (when he decided the earpiece just wasn't cutting it) to a reasonable level, no more than a hum—which actually increased his efficiency by zero-point-six-one percent.

"Why do you listen to such dated music?" EDI asked. "Surely, there are more current artists with the same—"

"Shhhh," Joker said. "Classics."

"The bass line is redundant and the lyrics are confusing. Why does he ask his father how high the water has raised when he just asked his mother? The repetition of the inquiry is inefficient in a crisis such as a flood. "

"That's the point, EDI," he said, continuing to flip through windows on his holoscreen.

EDI scanned data for clarification. Her eyes lit up behind her visor.

"Ah," she said. "The repetition is to evoke a rustic simplicity; an ignorance exhibited by children in Depression-era Arkansas."

Joker sighed. "You got it."

The tune changed to something a little livelier and EDI watched as the pilot beside her started bobbing his head and mouthing the words.

"Oh man," Joker said under his breath. "Gunny loved this one."

EDI saw the hint of a smile on his face, but not his usual jovial grin or his sarcastic smirk. A wave of negative feedback flooded her processes which always happened whenever Hilary was the topic of conversation. It was like drowning and she felt like she had to rectify it—start swimming parallel to the shore line.

"Loves, Jeff," she said.

"What?"

"You used the past tense. Since we have no reports on Tiptree, it would be presumptuous to use the tense when describing your sister."

"Isn't it worse to assume the best?"

"No, it is hopeful."

EDI turned back to her station. Security sweep. Recycle oxygen. Monitor cruising speed. A quaking note interrupted her duties and there was another rush of bitter water in her systems.

"Jeff?" she asked.

His face was in his hat and his broad shoulders were shaking.

EDI took the hat from his face to discover that he had been laughing instead of what she had previously believed.

"I fail to see what is funny," she said, genuinely curious.

Joker readjusted his hat. "I was just thinkin' of this one time."

The AI watched him with her hands behind her back. She leaned in, waiting for him to continue. His smile, as he told EDI of a toddling Hilary dancing and singing while he was laid up with broken leg, triggered a warming in her sensors.

"I was so bummed, too," Joker said. "And y'know when you have a little sister when you're that old you try to act all cool. She couldn't even say the words and I just thought it was stupid. But it made my leg feel better if only for a millisecond."

He took EDI's hand in his—smooth and resilient but it gave almost like skin. "Thanks, EDI."

"You are welcome," she said.

EDI gave the twinge of a smile she had been practicing before returning to her seat. They said little else; contented in the whirring of the bridge and the lyricism of his breath.

"Oh, man," Joker leaned back in his chair. "Johnny Cash used to hold his guitar like this. . ."

Joker demonstrated with one arm extended all the way out to his side, the other was ready for strumming at his neck.

"And Gunny would take my braces and try to do it because she'd seen all the vids y'know."

She puffed out her cheeks as if in relief; a learned behavior that she had been practicing as well.

". . .in walked a sheriff from Jericho Hill. . ." Joker was really belting now, wagging his finger towards EDI when she returned. "He said 'Willy Lee your name is not Jack Brown! You're the dirty hack that shot your woman down!''"

She smirked. "Do you plan on destroying me in a drug induced rage, Jeff? Because I think I would still best you as your limbs are bound to fail in such a state."

Joker threw his head back in a guffaw. The laughter flooded her but she was afloat; foreboding only an echoing step in the distance of her processes.

"If you've got a warrant just read it to me," he continued.

"I believe Shepard would grant such a warrant to cease the screeching on the bridge," EDI retorted, her fingers working fast on the Normandy's systems. "A joke."

"Oh, EDI, you're hilar-i-ass," Joker said.

"This is a peculiar song," EDI remarked. "It contains a chronological story arc."

"Most of them have a story," Joker said.

"But this one is more interesting. The protagonist seems surprised to be served a sentence for killing his beau."

"You haven't heard him sing about shooting a man in Reno just to watch him die yet."

"Would this music not promote lawlessness?"

Joker put a finger to his lips. "No words, just Johnny."

There was a continuous loop in her processes—an abandon that only came with wielding a heavy pistol—that was spawned by outlaws riding in with guns a-blazing. She wondered, briefly, if the Commander had been inspired by similar themes. Perhaps it would increase her own battle proficiency. She believed Vega had called it "getting pumped."

"It is time for you to go to your cabin, Jeff," EDI said when Joker's biometric scans indicated a weariness masked by his gleeful singing.

"Five more minutes, Mom," he said, hopping up from his seat.

"Do not forget to brush your teeth and wash behind your ears."

"Now it's going to be weird when I kiss you," Joker wrinkled his nose but leaned over to give EDI a peck anyway.

He moved to turn off the stereo.

"You may leave it," EDI said. "I can turn it off on my own."

"Right. G'night, EDI."

"Pleasant dreams," she said, turning around in her seat to watch Joker stroll down the ship. His stride was stronger as he gained momentum and as members of the crew moved aside.

EDI kept the music cycling. She filtered through the gospel and some of the blues, grasping for the recklessness of renegades.

By the time Joker returned, EDI had shifted through the list of twenty songs approximately one hundred twenty-eight times with her increased memorization speed.

"Go play your hand you big talkin' man and make a big fool of yourself—" EDI was interrupted by the bridge door opening.

"Look at you, June," Joker was gleaming and fresh from his rest.

"Jeff!" EDI exclaimed when he entered the bridge. "Did you know that Johnny Cash never actually served a prison sentence?"

"Really," Joker said. His green eyes twinkled and EDI knew that he knew she had spent all night gathering information.

"I believe my discovery is akin to a child realizing that Santa Claus is his or her parent."

"At least now you can sing the blues about it."

They both joined in a mishmash of Joker's howling baritone and the synthesized alto EDI had spent all night on.

"We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We been talkin' 'bout Jackson ever since the fire went out. . ."

"Wait until Gunny gets a load of you," Joker said as he limped into his chair.