EDI entered Shepard's domicile with interest. She disapproved of the big windows—she agreed with the geth, they were major structural weaknesses—but they were opaque now, blocking anyone looking in or out. "You will be pleased to know that Commander Bailey is confident that the situation has been resolved."

Not that the crew who was aware of Shepard's altercation would take that on faith. She would be willing to bet that Shepard would find herself very popular over the next few weeks. She might have space to herself here, but there would always be someone within shouting distance.

Shepard nodded, her eyes moving from Alenko's retreating back to EDI herself. "He dropped by earlier. I agree with him: this was just something to keep me on my toes. Damn if it hasn't worked," Shepard answered wearily, shaking her head before running her hand through her hair. "How's Joker?"

"He is fine. He also anticipated your inquiry and asks that you stop fussing," EDI responded.

Shepard grimaced, mumbling something about fussing being part of her job.

EDI took it with a grain of salt. She didn't think Shepard remembered how not to worry about everything and everyone. She also noted that, in spite of Shepard's elevated cortisol levels, she was still losing weight. It had slowed from those first few months, but it worried EDI.

Perhaps a couple weeks of real cooking and no crises or busywork would help. Dr. Chakwas had already volunteered to 'hog-tie' Shepard with medical red tape if the gentler methods exercised by friends didn't help. The mental image of Shepard 'hog-tied' was more ridiculous than amusing.

"So, you said you had something you wanted to do?"

"Yes." EDI smiled. "As you are not permitted to leave your domicile for the time being—"

"And people tell me to stop fussing," Shepard grimaced.

"—I thought we could experience an afternoon of acquiring material possessions for our associates. It would be diverting, does not require leaving home, and does not subject the participants to undue stress."

"You want to go shopping?" Shepard asked, grinning lopsidedly.

"Yes. Jeff has lent me his credit chit on the condition that I, quote, 'live it up like a girly-girl.'" That had been unexpected, but it provided an opportunity.

Shepard gave a bark of laughter as she motioned EDI to find a seat. "And you came to me?"

A faint pop of positive feedback, labeled amusement at irony. "It would be logical for two individuals lacking in proficiency to practice together. I refer specifically to 'like a girly-girl,'" she responded (shorthand: blandly).

By now, Shepard was genuinely amused…then the amusement fell off her face, her brows knitting together. "Wait…you're not getting paid?"

EDI half expected Shepard to react this way. She was so in the habit of fixing other people's problems—enjoyed doing so for the people she cared about—that this would distract her. If EDI allowed her to become distracted. Distraction by such concerns ran counter to the point of this visit. "I am not formally employed, nor do I have any legal standing in Citadel space. I could turn to crime, but it would look bad on a resume."

The joke flopped.

"We'll fix it," Shepard said, and EDI could almost see the mental note scribbling itself on Shepard's mental to-do list.

She considered pointing out that she lacked material wants apart from hardware and software upgrades, but decided not to. Shepard wouldn't care: it was the point that she, EDI, 'busted her ass like the rest of us' that would catch and hold Shepard's attention.

"In the meantime, I was thinking we should start with something for Jeff," EDI declared, taking a seat and running her omnitool to the television so neither of them would have to crane their necks to see the display.

"Good place to start," Shepard agreed, setting in a chair. EDI didn't miss the careful quality of the motions. Shepard might be on painkillers, but she would be on the lowest effective dosage. She happened to know exactly the extent of Shepard's injuries and, while not life-threatening, they were certainly function-impairing.

One reason, probably the least of all the reasons, Alenko was staying with her. It was the 'official' reason, but some of the crew suspected otherwise.

"I have already done preliminary research." EDI pulled up the skycar. "The Blackstar."

Shepard nodded as EDI listed the specifications. "That'd get Joker's blood pumping," she agreed when EDI finished speaking. "And you mentioned you bond most when piloting."

"Five year warranty," EDI began (shorthand: slyly). "Replacement parts…all sales final…"

"Wait!" Shepard yelped, half rising from her chair (and wincing as she settled back into it).

EDI blinked, Shepard's look of shocked horror forever captured in EDI's databanks. The distraction also wrenched Shepard's mind away from anything except keeping EDI from breaking the proverbial bank.

Excellent. Physical rest was beneficial, particularly now, but mental and emotional rest was essential, too. Alenko certainly was capable of providing the latter. Mental rest, though…

"I fail to see what is wrong," she answered as (shorthand: innocently) as she could, arranging her features to match her tone.

Shepard gave a wary laugh, looking a bit shaken. "When you're buying someone a present, it's best not to bankrupt him. You want a rental."

Some might be offended at the assumption they didn't know to rent rather than to buy a vehicle like that, but EDI wasn't one of them. She didn't have to fight not to smile, as an organic would. "I see." She entered the appropriate information.

Shepard swallowed, settling back down.

EDI nodded to herself. Thus focused, she hoped Shepard would truly enjoy the afternoon. "Done. Now, perhaps Dr. T'Soni?"

Shepard's expression twisted with concentration, her fingers drumming industriously on the arm of her chair. "She likes chocolate…I think."

From what EDI knew, most females seemed to. Not for the first time, EDI half-wished she had a sense of taste so she could experience flavor the way organics could.