"Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
Was ever woman in this humour won?" King Richard III (I, ii, 227-228)
It was my 35th birthday by the time I'd been declared fit enough to leave the hospital for good. Anderson had dropped by to let me know the council was renting an apartment for me in London for as long as I wanted it, and Miranda had insisted that we go out for drinks and dinner that evening to celebrate. As my high heels click-clacked down the pavement on my way to the restaurant I was meeting Miranda at, I began to regret my choice of footwear. I hadn't been big on heels before I'd been in a coma for two years, and definitely wasn't a great fan of them now. Still, military issue boots just wouldn't have looked right with the dress Kasumi had given me during our Cerberus days. Space divas, I sighed internally, and rolled my eyes.
My trademark hurry-up-and-wait policy had me waiting at the bar inside the beautiful Asari-owned joint 20 minutes earlier than I'd agreed to meet Miranda. 5 minutes into my wait, I received a message on my Omni-Tool.
Sorry Shepard, not going to be able to make it. Ori's crashed the aircar, nothing too serious, but I can't get to you. Will try and pick up a rental and drop by your place later? Love, Miri.
Well, fuck.
I ordered another drink and downed it before replying.
No worries, hope she's okay. I'll make my own entertainment.
Kate. x
I became aware of a presence behind me, looking over my shoulder and probably reading my messages.
My fingers twitched for a pistol that wasn't there. Shit.
"That you will, sweetheart."
I twirled around on my bar stool and found myself face-to-broad-and-gorgeous-chest with a certain founding member of the Blue Suns.
I leaned back and looked up at the smug smirk on his face, and I couldn't help myself. I punched him so hard in the face I split his lip and he staggered back. I was going to regret that in the morning, judging from the pain I already felt in my right hand.
"You rat fucking bastard, mother-fucking cunt! The fuck, Zaeed? What the fuck?!" I screeched, the venom and adrenaline in me peaking and bottoming out as I fought an internal war with myself, trying to give a shit about the scene I was making in a very public place but wanting to tear Massani and new asshole verbally if not literally.
As soon as he'd recovered from my blow he wrapped one hand around my wrist and dragged me outside the venue. His touch was like fire and ice and electricity all at once. The cool spring breeze that blew across my shoulders wasn't the reason for the goosebumps breaking out across my skin.
I looked up into mismatched eyes that were dark with fury and I wondered for a split second whether he was going to kiss me or put a bullet in me.
I'm not sure even he knew at the time.
We stood there for a long, silent moment, breathing heavily as we held each others gaze.
I was so angry and turned on I was shaking, and then something snapped and we were on each other, my fists bunching in his shirt and his lips on mine so hard I thought I'd bruise. I could taste his blood and oh god, this was good.
"Daft bitch," he muttered into my mouth when we paused to take in breath.
My whole body shook with the force of the giggles that danced through me, and I began to cry with a thousand emotions at once.