The Secret Life of a Citadel Housewife
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This is a brief comedic response to a prompt from a few years ago: After the war, Shepard liked to go incognito on the Citadel. Shepard/Garrus.
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Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belongs to Bioware.
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Jane Shepard-Vakarian blew herself a kiss in the mirror and grinned at her unrecognizable reflection. Most famous face in the galaxy and no one ever looked twice.
Her hair that was always pulled back now fell in luxurious curls around her shoulders, and the face that was usually hard lines and scars was now a mask of creamy, blushing skin, plump red lips, and perfectly-lined eyes. She stood, straightening her skirt, and packed up the cosmetics. They went under the feminine products, where he'd never dare to look.
Into the closet, behind the row of hangers, beneath the workout clothes—there they were. She pulled out a pair of cream-colored pumps and her designer bag before reaching into the nightstand drawer for her pistol and thigh-holster. Some habits were hard to break. She gave herself one last glance in the mirror as she threw the bag over her shoulder, and she checked the clock by the bed.
Jane Shepard-Vakarian swore in a very un-ladylike manner. She was going to be late for her knitting circle.
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