"You're telling me you risked an entire colony to prove a theory? You used Alenko as bait? So maws and entire Alliance companies aren't enough for you anymore?"

"It was necessary to stop the Collectors."

"And I'm supposed to just trust you, Illusive Fucker?"

A long slurp off the ever-present whiskey glass, and a long, long, long puff.

"Well? I'm supposed to trust you?"

"I take risks when it's necessary. I had faith that you and your team could handle it."

Ssssssluuuuuurp. The sound embedded itself in his brain, where it transformed into a jolt. The hair on the back of his head stood on end as the jolt made its way to his spine. It lodged at the nape of his neck as the Illusive Fucker took a puff, and then shot its way down to his ass when the asshole took another long swig of whiskey. What happens if I whack the bottom of that damned glass? I know—hilarity!

"That shit's bad for your health. Wait, why am I telling you this, when it's better for me if you kick the bucket?"

"EDI confirmed a few things we needed to know. You saved Horizon, Shepard. You should be proud of your team."

"Yeah, that's nice. Half of the fucking colony's gone because of your little Cerberus bullshit gamble."

"Better half than a whole colony, which is what it would have been if not for our little trap."

"So you're sending them a maw to take out the other half? I don't get you assholes at all."

"Now, Shepard, I know we haven't had the best history together, but at some point you're going to trust my information."

"Unh hunh."

That cigarette would look damned good put out on your forehead, or in those creepy machine eyes. Can't figure out which one would be better, though.

"Before you go, I have a few more dossiers for you."

"I knew it! Goddamn, you're a motherfucker, aren't you?"

He reached toward that fucking annoying cancer stick, but his hand whooshed through nothing. Fuck, sometimes I forget he's a hologram. He kicked at the floor, hoping he'd hit the projector, but then he remembered it was on the ceiling. And I can't go get an ailing egg from Gardner either. We'd just be choking on sulfur reek for weeks. As the Illusive Fucker stared at him over yet another slurp of his goddamned fucking annoying bullshit son-of-a-bitch endless glass of goddamned motherfucking probably stink-ass swill, he twitched. He'd never wanted to throw or kick anything so badly, well, ever. Even after finding Kahoku's body. Or finding out that the fucking maw that took out all his best buds was dropped there by motherfucking goddamned Christing Cerberus. And there was nothing but the endless swilling and puffing and that fucking smug-ass motherfucking grin hovering over it like a bad jack-o-lantern carving some little kid had fucked up trying to make it "scary."

"Three dossiers, to be exact, with specialists who will be essential to the rest of the mission." The Fucker looked at him with those creeptastic eyes and that bland smile, even though he was ready to take the Normandy right then and shoot the shit out of that goddamned chair the Fucker always sat in.

"And you didn't bother to give them to me before, because…"

"You will find one of them to be of particular interest. The quarian passed our base requirements."

Fuck you, fucker. Can't even answer a goddamned question straight, can you?

"You're not going to answer the question, are you? You say you want me to trust you, but you do shit like this. You've already tried to kill me more than once."

"I trust your meeting with Commander Alenko went well, and you've put that behind you."

"That's none of your goddamned business. Who the fuck are you to ask me anything personal when you won't even answer a simple fucking question?"

"Look over the dossiers I've given you." Sllluuuuurp. And a long fucking slurp at that.

The Communications Room returned to normal, but not after the Fucker had taken another goddamned fucking long motherfucking toke off his cigarette. The Fucker seemed to take his goddamned time ending the transmission, and that smug expression never changed no matter how long he stared over his fucking skank-ass glass.

"Fuck," he muttered as he left the room.

At least Chambers had a huge smile for him when he tapped her on the shoulder.

"Are you all right, Shepard?"

"I'm just fine, Kelly. And so are you."

She giggled. "You really think so?"

"Oh, I might."

She flushed a little. So adorable! He couldn't figure out whether he wanted to bend her over one of the tables in the mess and ravish her into oblivion or just cuddle her like a teddy bear for hours on end.

"You have a few messages, and a few new dossiers."

"Yeah, so I found out."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. I just want to whack things. Maybe I can find a new merc base to shoot up, or maybe I'll just mix a couple drinks for me and Kasumi."

"I hear your old friend, Tali'Zorah will be joining us."

"I haven't looked at the dossiers yet."

"But you want her to come with us, don't you?"

"Sure. Tali's a good friend and a damned good engineer."

"Mmhmm."

"Is there something you're trying to tell me, Kelly?"

"Just that I heard a little scuttlebutt…"

"I'd like to scuttle your…"

"Oh, Shepard, you just say the funniest things!" She giggled. "Go look at the dossiers, and when you get a chance, Miranda and Jacob would both like to talk to you."

Well, at least it's Tits. Could be worse. Or she could want to see you to shriek at you for cussing out the Illusive Fucker. Shit. Right, dossiers.

A drell assassin, whatever that was. Tali'Zorah, now vas Neema, whatever that meant. At least she's not an asshole, but, fuck, what if Jacob was right? Son of a bitch. Fuck. And then his heart slammed hard. Oh, fuck, YES!

Samara, a justicar. An asari justicar. He imagined the cleavage, the hot-as-hell voice, the cute curling of tendrils over the back of her head. Suddenly every last bit of pent-up rage vanished as he remembered embracing eternity with Liara. YES YES YES!

Maybe working with Cerberus wasn't so bad after all.