"Something is different about you, Shepherd."
The Commander couldn't help but snort at Garrus' sudden observation. Of course something was different. She'd died and spent two years being resurrected. An event like that would cause a few changes.
"Besides the obvious." Garrus insisted.
"New haircut." Shepherd replied teasingly.
Garrus frowned. At least, that's how Shepherd interpreted the Turian's mandibles shifting and his eyes narrowing. Slowly and deliberately, Garrus raised a clawed hand to his commanding officer's face. Shepherd raised a brow, but made no move to stop him as he brushed her cropped hair away from her face carefully. The haircut quip was true enough. Before Project Lazarus, Shepherd's hair had been long enough to sweep back into a tight, smooth bun. Now it was barely past her chin, and cut a little unevenly.
But that wasn't all. Garrus was at a loss as to what it was though. He continued studying Shepherd intently, forgetting he was still holding her face. Shepherd met his calculating gaze with the slightest of smiles. He was touching her with surprising delicacy, as if she were made of glass. She and Garrus had always shared a close bond, both as a tactical team and as friends. Since they'd reunited, however, something between them had shifted. It wasn't anything negative… But oddly, the duo seemed closer than ever. Shepherd couldn't quite put her finger on it. In echo of Garrus' words, something was different.
"New scars?" Shepherd suggested, referencing the odd glowing marks crisscrossing her cheeks. "Cerberus also erased my old ones."
She grimaced at that. As a Marine, the Commander wore her battle scars as badges. They were a reminder of victories, losses, and reasons to keep fighting.
"Yes… no."
Shepherd rolled her eyes. Garrus couldn't quite find the words to describe what feature of Shepherd's was missing. Turians didn't have them, much less the word. As a result his universal translating device wasn't much help at all. He knew what it was of course. They were… spots. Of a sort. Sprinkled across her nose and upper cheeks. He'd always liked the tiny dots, and realized that's what he was missing when he looked at her face.
"You had these… facial markings." Garrus said finally. "Like little stars in a far off galaxy."
Shepherd laughed aloud at Garrus' poetic description. He clicked his mandibles irritably in response, looking away in mild embarrassment.
"Freckles."
"Freckles?" Garrus's translator presented various images and definitions, confirming the word. "Yes. Those."
"I actually don't miss them." Shepherd commented thoughtfully. "Not as much as my hair."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I know Turians don't have anything like that. But for humans… well. It kind of made me look, childish?" Shepherd frowned, not sure how to explain what she meant. "They aren't considered… pretty or anything. Certainly not womanly."
"I liked them." Garrus replied, causing Shepherd to turn slightly pink.
"Did you?"
"They were distinctive." Garrus said sincerely. Then, slyly, "And… pretty."
"Stupid." Shepherd grumbled, gently batting his claws from her face.
Garrus chuckled in response. Shepherd could feel the rumbling subharmonics in her chest. And in her stomach, which flipped oddly at the noise. She shook her head and turned to leave.
"As you were, Garrus. Calibrate away."
"Will do, Commander."