So... hi ... it has been a while hasn't it ... though one does wonder if anyone is still reading this ... my apologies for the delay, life is just well, life. anyways, onto the reason you are here, enjoy chapter seven!
"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Visibly fuming, Miranda stalks onto the Normady's CIC deck, heels clacking harshly on the steel flooring. Fists clenched tightly by her side, eyes flashing dangerously.
Shepard appeared a moment later, and was even less impressed with Miranda's attitude, her own countenance thunderous at the accusations being thrown her way. "What the hell did I think I was doing? What about you? You were going to kill the man, just like that," snapping her fingers for effect, both eyes darkening by several shades, her left eye almost black in its colouring, "He's your friend, dammit!"
"I had everything under control, Shepard," the incensed XO snarled in response, whirling to face her superior officer.
Shepard looked less than impressed by this announcement, "Really, that's what you're going with, you 'had everything under control'?" The distain clear in her voice.
Miranda let out a growl of frustration, stalking towards the elevator to go to the crew deck, anywhere that Shepard wasn't at that point. Staring after the retreating figure, Shepard let out her own growl of annoyance, whirling instead on the chuckling Turin soldier behind her.
"I don't see what's so funny," she hissed, totally dissatisfied with said Turian's response. Once again Garrus just chortled in response, shaking his head after the retreating XO.
"Sometimes I wonder about you two; almost like an old married couple the way you go at it." Shepard flushed deep red at the comment, turning away, grumbling under her breath all the while as she too headed for the elevator, intending to retreat to her cabin.
Turning to a smiling Joker in the cockpit, Garrus gave the Turian equivalent of a raised eyebrow, "Are you humans always like that, or is it just Shepard?"
…
Miranda paced back and forth through her office, rounding her desk, dodging the lounge chair, circling her bed, and then repeating the path, stifled obscenities trailing after her all the while. But really, who did Shepard think she was, interfering like that? Orianna was her priority, her sole concern; she was none of Shepard's damn business.
But you made it her business, didn't you?
Miranda paused as the thought struck her unbidden, and as much as she hated to admit it, it was right. She chose to bring Shepard into this; The Illusive Man certainly didn't order her to in order to get closer to the Commander, and as the woman was her commanding officer, regardless of the personal nature of the mission, Shepard was still in charge.
"Dammit!" She snarled, swinging a gloved fist into the wall above her desk, wincing as it made contact, leaving a small dent in its wake.
It was one step forward, three steps back, this relationship of theirs…
"Operative Lawson, The Illusive Man would like to see you in the comm. Room."
Grunting in exasperation, Miranda took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself, knowing that going off at her boss would not help the situation. And she had a funny feeling she knew what he wanted to see her about.
…
"Miranda," TIM drawled, not looking at all pleased to see her. Internally she winced at the tone, knowing he was less than pleased with her. "I gave you a job to do, and by all accounts you don't seem to be doing it."
Miranda bristled angrily at the claim; controlling Shepherd wasn't an easy task, in fact, for all the woman's proposed intelligence she did incredibly stupid things.
Like jumping someone who was about to fire a gun.
Or detonating a grenade not three feet from where she was standing.
Or thinking that wrestling with a varren was a perfectly reasonable thing to do.
And everyone had the nerve to wonder why she couldn't stand the woman, figuratively tearing her hair out just by being in the same room as her.
"Shepard isn't going to continue being cooperative with us once the Collectors have been dealt with; even with the odds being suicidal, we can't afford to take any chances. If she does make it, we need to ensure that it is us to whom she returns." Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Miranda felt as if it was about time for her to say something in her own defence.
"It is proving to be more problematic than I had first thought it would, however, its nothing I can't handle. With more time to wear her down, I don't doubt that I can win her over."
"Miranda, time it the one luxury we can't afford. Find an in, a new angle to work; but whatever you do, do it quickly." Without a word of warning, the feed cut, leaving Miranda there fuming over the insinuation of her incompetence.
