Finally, he started to pull away, and was relieved when she immediately let him go. He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes still closed, and wondered what he was going to say to make this less awkward. He felt her leave the sofa, and listened idly to the sounds as she moved around the room. He was halfway hoping that she had left so he could do the same and simply pretend nothing had happened, but after a few minutes she was back, pressing a glass into his hand.
"It's just water."
He took the glass from her with a murmur of thanks, feeling the cushions dip as she settled back to the sofa. Realizing his throat was sore, he drank the water gratefully and opened his eyes. He was surprised to find the room dim. She was sitting next to him, a small but careful distance between them. Ever the tactician, he realized with a slight smile. She had left enough space that if he didn't want any further contact there wouldn't be any; but the distance was short enough that it would only take a small movement for them to be touching.
He cleared his throat before speaking, trying to maintain a level tone. "What happened to the lights, Commander?"
She laughed lightly. "Please, call me Kel. Or at least Shepard."
She paused, a significant silence lingering. When he caught on, Victus snorted with amusement. "Thank you so much for the invitation. I notice you didn't bother waiting for one earlier. I thought that was considered polite among humans."
Victus didn't have to look at her to be certain she was grinning - it came through clearly in her voice. "Generally, yes, but sometimes it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission." When he didn't say anything, she laughed lightly. "And I turned the lights down so we could talk."
He waited for her to continue, to explain why talking would require the lights to be off. They'd talked before. When she didn't say anything further, he made an annoyed sound and gave in, asking, "What difference do lights make to talking?"
"Oh. Well, I guess it's a human thing. We tend to find it easier to speak of difficult topics, especially emotional ones, if we don't have to look directly at the person we're speaking to."
He had noticed that she was sitting facing out into the room, her head tipped back against the back of the sofa. He thought about this, and saw the logic in it. "So, what difficult emotional topic are we going to discuss, Commander?"
She took a deep breath. "Did you want to hear about the mission? More than just what's in the report, I mean. From when we found his platoon, all the way until the end?"
Victus blinked in surprise; this was not what he had expected. Her mission report had been clear and concise, a nearly perfect example of what he had always insisted on from the men under his command. The silence stretched as he wondered at her meaning, but there was only one way to find out. "Yes, I would like that. Please."
Shepard nodded. "I don't mean to imply the report was incomplete, but I didn't include my personal observations. I saw the crash site first hand, and the Reaper forces. Tarquin didn't make a bad call, Adrien. A frontal approach would have been dangerous, with high casualties guaranteed. Tarquin's plan was clever, and not so far fetched. It wasn't a failure of tactics."
Even without being able to hear or interpret his subtonals, it was clear that Victus was annoyed when he interrupted her to snap, "It was clearly a failure, though, Commander. His platoon was decimated, the survivors were nearly ready to mutiny. I don't think that qualifies as 'not a bad call,' Commander."
"I wasn't finished, Primarch."
The emphasis on his title was clear, and for a moment he was sure she was insulting him. Then he got it. "I never actually said you could call me by my given name, so returning to a more formal mode of address is hardly going to work, you know."
She just laughed, unconcerned. "An excellent point, Adrien. Perhaps I'll just have to resort to interrupting you whenever you call me 'Commander.' I'm sure that will be more effective."
He growled, a sound she was sure to hear and understand, even with limited human ears. Annoying him was something that even battle hardened warriors went out of their way to avoid, but Commander Shepard was not at all intimidated. She just let the silence stretch until he snarled at her, "Fine, then, Kel, please finish."
"Well, since you asked so nicely, Adrien."
Damn her, the woman was laughing at him. He briefly considered turning the lights on so she would remember exactly who she was dealing with - and exactly how many sharp talons and pointed teeth he brought to an argument. He couldn't decide if the withering glare he gave new recruits, or the silent direct stare that had cowed many members of all species, would work better on her - and he had a nagging suspicion that neither would really phase her - so he simply remained silent and wait for her to continue.
"What I was getting at, though, was that the error wasn't in the choice Tarquin made. It was just that he got nervous, doubted himself, and allowed his men to question him. It was that doubt, allowing those questions, that brought them to nearly mutiny. And you know full well that more experienced soldiers have been struck down by the loss of those under their command, let alone by fear of the Reapers. He rallied, though. Right there, with harvesters flying overhead, and the bodies of his soldiers in sight, he pulled it back together and he got his men back in line. I know you said that his actions at the bomb site made you proud. I thought you should know that his actions at the crash site would have as well."
"I... thank you, Kel. That is unexpected, but I appreciate it." He fell silent, pondering her words.
As the silence stretched, he felt her tension as she sat beside him, and remembered how this rather unbelievable evening had started. "It's not your fault, you know. You aren't responsible for the bomb, for Cerberus being there, or the Reapers. You didn't put an untried lieutenant in charge of an inexperienced platoon with no back up. You did more than anyone could have expected in a difficult and unknown situation."
Her only answer was a long breath; indrawn, held, exhaled. Slowly, she nodded. "If we're not blaming me, we can't blame you either, you know."
Victus barked a laugh at that. "How do you figure? I'm the one who put him in charge of the Ninth Platoon. I'm the one who sent them to Tuchanka. Spirits, I'm the one who sent you to Tuchanka, and you're telling me this isn't my fault?"
When she answered, her voice was serene. "It isn't. You didn't plant the bomb. You didn't involve Cerberus. You certainly didn't involve the Reapers. You inherited a problem, and you dealt with it the best you could with the options available to you."
There was dead silence in the room as he absorbed her words. Shepard smiled in the darkness, waiting. He relaxed slightly as the impact of her words hit him, and washed away some of the guilt he felt for his son's death. It was only a minute later that what she'd actually said got through to him; when it did, he roared with laughter.
"And you said you didn't care for politicians! I've never heard my own words used against me so thoroughly." Still chuckling, he leaned over slightly, knocking his arm against hers. She didn't turn to look at him, but returned the pressure immediately, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
Victus let the contact between them linger, enjoying the now-companionable silence. Finally, he stood. "I should let you get some rest, Commander. I'm sure tomorrow will be a long day."
Commander Shepard flicked at a control on her omni tool, bringing the lights back up. Then she stood and faced the Primarch, smiling.
"I'm sure it will be. Mordin says it will take several days to finish the genophage cure." She turned, walking him to the door. "In the meantime, we'll be playing fire brigade for the Alliance in the neighboring systems. Things will be slightly less stressful; allow for some downtime." When Shepard reached the door to her quarters, she turned to face Victus, that same small smile playing over her features. "Perhaps you'll find time to come for another drink, Primarch."
Victus answered with a surprised hum, and quickly decided not to pursue too closely the question of why her invitation pleased him. "Perhaps I will, Commander." This time, he put a slight edge on her title, and was rewarded when her smile deepened.
He watched her for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice and subtonals were both heavy with a gratitude he hoped she would understand somehow. "Thank you, Kel, for everything."