Steven Cortez stared at the slip of paper in his hand and sighed. He'd been to lot of clubs lately. Every day if he was being honest. The Normandy was being retrofitted and it'd be a week or two before it was ready. But the clubs didn't help, not really. Shepard had helped him put the past behind him, or so he thought. He didn't dream about Ferris Fields anymore, not like he used to.
But it was still difficult to think about the future. Even if the future had warm eyes.
He'd come a long way for a shuttle pilot. As a widower.
The slip of paper felt like it was burning a hole in his hand.
He wanted this. He knew he did. It just felt like betraying the memory of-
Of-
Steven sat down; thinking about the words Shepard had given him. About how the ones you loved were never really gone. And what would Robert say? Would he want him to be unhappy, living alone for the memory of a ghost?
Time to move on.
He thought as he dialed the number.
"Hello?" the voice on the other end of the phone said.
"Hey, it's Steve." He said after a pause. "That offer for drinks still on the table?"
