She thought that she would be required to do her share of killing, now and then, and study the files meanwhile, so that she could find her way out of the shit as soon as she can.
Instead, the fucking bastard keeps her occupied.
Working out in the gym makes sense; she did get weak in prison and cryo, and being weak is what she definitely cannot afford. What totally pisses her off, though, is the training. They spar in the cargo bay, they shoot in low and high gravity, with and without hardsuits, they defend and attack positions in simulated fights.
Sometimes she's on her own, sometimes paired with someone – and each and every time, while enjoying the adrenaline, she is more and more pissed, until she finds herself an outlet.
"Fuck, not again!"
Jack, a bit out of breath and still gloating with satisfaction, rolls her eyes at Shepard's fretting. "Yeah, yeah, was off the target, sorry."
He exhales before he dismisses everyone else and turns back to her. "Teamwork. Which part of it is so hard to understand?"
"Don't get so fucking excited, Shepard, I'm not stupid."
"Then stop acting as if you were! I know that Lawson is annoying like hell, but in a fight, she's a killing machine. You cover her back, she covers yours, or the fuckers get you both – or worse, they get someone else!"
"Yeah, yeah, okay," Jack mutters. "Bad Jack won't send the Cerberus bitch flying again."
"Much appreciated."
That's when her moment comes. She smiles sweetly. "Don't say you didn't enjoy seeing the cheerleader flying arse-first."
His exasperated sigh makes her laugh so much that her sides hurt.
