Palmer was usually the first person up, owing to the need to make breakfast. Next up were usually those tasked with various housekeeping tasks—like keeping the bathrooms in useable condition—because it was easier to clean certain spaces when no one else was up. Depending on the kind of night Shepard or others had had, she might find someone stumbling into the mess hall to nurse an early cup of coffee.

On the Normandy, being up first meant she could turn the music on her omnitool on for a while without needing to worry about anyone else liking or disliking her music. Or judging her for it.

This morning, there was someone already in the mess hall. Someone she recognized mostly from the Extranet.

Palmer stopped in her tracks, regarding Councilor Martin Burns sitting at one of the tables in the mess hall, several datapads and a thermos of coffee keeping him company. He looked up when he heard her move, or stop moving, and gave her a sunny smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she answered reflexively. Well, if he was here, obviously Shepard was okay with it. Still…it didn't explain why he was here. "Um…"

He arched his eyebrows, as if amused at her apparent difficulty. Not maliciously amused, just generally amused.

"What are you doing here…Mr. Councilor…?" Palmer finally asked.

"Working," he answered brightly. "Although it was made quite clear to me that, while on board this vessel, I'm not, strictly speaking 'Mr. Councilor' anymore. And you are…Ms. Palmer, I think?"

Palmer actually looked down at her name patch. Yes, it was there, but he was way too far back to read it.

"Capt. Shepard said a person named Palmer would probably be the first one up," Burns clarified.

"Yeah, I run the galley," Palmer answered, feeling more than a little stupid. "Why are you here…sir?"

Burns considered, then very slowly, as if he wasn't sure how much to tell her, "Because I'm a firearms proficient citizen of the Systems Alliance, and I presented a very good case to the commanding officer of this ship."

Palmer felt the color drain from her face. It wasn't what he said, it was the way he said it, with a gravity that couldn't be hidden. "Holy shit…its happening today, isn't it?" she breathed. "EDI, where are we?"

"We are currently in transit, Private Palmer," EDI answered.

"Where to?"

"Capt. Shepard has asked me not to answer that inquiry, pending a briefing over breakfast at zero six thirty."

Suddenly, the presence of Councilor Burns in the mess hall wasn't anything worth considering. Palmer withdrew to the food preparation area, checked her schedule, then swapped it on the fly with the day after tomorrow's breakfast, if only to force herself to pay attention to what she was doing.

Everyone had known, when Shepard announced shore leave, that something was up. And when she'd had that big party at her place, then the next day announced shore leave was over and all personnel were to remain on-station despite the fact that they weren't actually doing anything, that all said something was up. The ground team had been a bit antsier than usual, but somehow more closed-mouthed, like they knew something was coming, just not when. That made sure everyone stationed on the Normandy knew something was in the works. The effort put in by the ground team and the command cadre to keep things normal had been appreciated.

Palmer didn't think she could have handled a whole ship-full of jittery with nerves people.

She took a deep breath and began making waffles instead of biscuits.

Everyone knew that the big mission Shepard and the ground team were waiting for was to follow that scum-sucker Kai Leng back to his boss's nasty little hideout and proceed to wreck the place, seize the stolen Catalyst data, and cut the head off the Cerberus serpent. After Sanctuary, everyone was eager for that mission to come up.

And now, it apparently had.

"Do you need any help?" Burns asked, startling her out of her preoccupation as he approached the mess hall side of the food preparation area.

Palmer jumped, having half-forgotten that he was there. "I, uh…sorry. Zoning out a bit." She hastily checked to make sure she was still making waffles and now…waff-cuits. Fortunately, she was. "Uh, no, no, thank you, I'm fine," she answered.

"Of course. Waffles?"

"Mm-hmm," she answered, going back to her preparations and trying harder to focus on them. Shepard would eat just about anything, but Palmer had noticed that she really liked pancakes or waffles to start the day. With the Normandy heading to an undisclosed location, with Councilor Burns on the ship—she doubted anyone but him knew where, exactly, he was—that meant that they had to be closing in on the Illusive Man's hidey-hole. They had to be.

So it was best if Shepard started the day off right, which meant waffles today and pancakes tomorrow. Fortunately or unfortunately, Burns seemed to be in a chatty mood.

"How long have you been here?" Palmer asked, switching from waffle preparation to coffee preparation.

"Since zero two-thirty," Burns chuckled. "Bit of an early morning, but you can deal with any short night if you have enough caffeine."

"It's not fancy thimble of Josef like you get on the Citadel," Palmer admitted, "but at least it's the good stuff. Supply usually makes sure we get decent coffee."

"I've heard rumors about the standard issue stuff."

Palmer grinned at him. "All true."

"…even the one with the iron bar…?"

"All true, if you let it steep long enough," Palmer deadpanned, then chuckled when Burns, looking at the counter in disbelief mouthed 'wow.'

"Palmer!" Shepard entered the mess hall at a brisk trot, looking as if she'd woken up abruptly, although she was properly turned out for the day. "I'm sorry I didn't warn you about our…additional crewman."

"It's alright, Captain. This is…it…isn't it?"

Shepard nodded.

"…then I'd better get these waffles going."