December Tenth
"Stand up straight," Garrus grumbled.
"Just take the holo faster," Shepard returned, tugging at the short velour skirt part of her costume. Why on Earth had he forced her into this thing? And why did she have to show so much leg?
Garrus glared at her over the camera. "Look, you can't be Mrs. Claus and slouching."
Shepard glared right back. "She is thousands of years old. I'm pretty sure I have better posture." I am so done with this. The pantyhose itched, the skirt was too short, and the fireplace behind her was baking her ass.
"Be 'sexy' Mrs. Claus," Garrus ordered.
Shuddering, Shepard pulled a face. Be the sexy two-thousand-year-old lady? Even asari don't hold up that long. "Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds?"
"That's it. I'm just setting it to take as many pictures as it can. Come here." Garrus left the holocamera standing to chase Shepard around the living room.
Shepard dodged, not really trying to get away; he caught her by the wrist and pulled her close.
Pressed up against him, Shepard smiled. You know if you weren't dressed as Santa, you could so get some today. She clapped a hand over the escaping giggles, then tried to put her stern commander voice
back on. "Mr. and Mrs. Santa is so creepy, Garrus."
"Shut up and kiss me," he growled, leaning in as the camera flashed over and over again.