Shepard was furious. She paced the length of the elevator fuming. How dare the Council refuse to see her. How dare they assume what she did to the previous Council was a sign of a humans-first agenda. And lastly, how dare everyone else assume the same without giving her a chance to explain. How could she have known they would have enough firepower to save both the Council and defeat Sovereign? Sovereign was her main priority. What she did that day was something she would never be proud of but she firmly believed she did the right thing. She harbored no grudges against aliens of any kind, but of course, no one bothered to ask. Her thoughts shot back to Sovereign and her rage ignited anew. The new Council was just as blind as the last one. They refused to see it for what it really was: a Reaper. She'd died for this cause and they turned up their noses and shushed her like she was a child.

The elevator door hissed open. Shepard managed to resist punching the panel to open the door to her quarters. Once she was inside, she took a deep breath and let the white-hot anger incinerate her rationality. Spotting a datapad on her table, Shepard strode over to it and promptly hurled it across the room. Not even pausing, Shepard turned and threw a mighty punch at the aquarium glass. Her newly-acquired fish scattered. Some tried to hide behind the seaweed. She took a moment to glance back at the datapad. It had landed safely on her pillow and was miraculously—in Shepard's view—undamaged. She turned to look at the aquarium. The glass was unmarred. Nothing was broken.

An unexplainable desire to break something possessed Shepard. She retreated a few steps, her eyes scanning her desk for anything she could break and probably not regret later. Cursing colorfully, Shepard slammed the side of her fist into the nearest wall. How could her desk be completely devoid of breakable things? Shepard let out a strangled scream and then headed towards the sofa. The moment she got to the bottom of the stairs, she paused. Her hands twitched at her sides, the only sign that some rationality was coming back. The cushion on the sofa stared back at her innocently.

Screw it, she thought and grabbed the cushion.

Using minimal biotics, Shepard tore the pillow in half. Feathers erupted, some landing in her hair. Tearing the pillow made her feel a little better. She ripped the halves into fourths. Satisfaction trickled through her wrath, enough to convince her to sit down and just stew. She even crossed her arms and legs to prevent herself from wrecking anything else. Perhaps the table, which at the moment was begging to be flipped over.

Shepard didn't know how long she sat on the couch replaying her meeting with Anderson in her head. She dredged up every ounce of anger and let it burn itself out in her mind. She even indulged in a few fantasies of herself slapping all of the councilors several times. The anger inside of her slowly sputtered out as the time past. At last her clenched fists relaxed, leaving behind very sore muscles.

"Commander."

Shepard gave a start at EDI's voice. The feathers that had settled on her were once again twisting in the air. She cleared her throat and answered, "Go ahead."

"Dinner is served. You told me to remind you if you didn't leave for the mess hall by this time."

"Oh, right…" Shepard stood up and stretched. Her whole body ached from sitting for so long. At least her head felt lighter as it always did after she recovered from her bouts of rage.

EDI paused a beat. "Are you feeling better, Commander?"

"Yeah, thanks for asking, EDI. That'll be all."

"Logging you out, Shepard," EDI answered as Shepard headed out the door.

"Uh, Commander…"

Shepard looked up from her tray. "Yes, Gardner? Am I too late to get a full serving?" She stood in front of him, waiting for him to fill her plate. A small flicker of her earlier anger sparked inside her.

"Oh, no, Commander, there's plenty left. I was just wondering if…if you knew that you have feathers in your hair," Gardner finished hurriedly.

To his surprise, Shepard only blinked, perplexed. She set her tray down and ran a hand through her hair. Several feathers were lodged in her hand when she looked. Gardner half expected Shepard to whirl around and demand who put the feathers there but instead the commander giggled. Giggled. From there, the giggle turned into a bark of laughter and then into hysterics. Gardner stared, helpless, as his commander dissolved into noiseless laughter. The other crew members glanced over but then looked away just as quickly, not wanting to get involved. Shepard had only been with them a few days.

Recovering, Shepard steadied herself on the counter and said between breaths, "Thank you, Gardner, for telling me. Can I have my dinner now?"