He feels her behind him at the door to his new bedroom. He catches himself before turning around in a startle when he senses her. He turns, as casually as he can fake it, sees her standing at the doorway less than an arm's length away.
"It's a bit Spartan," he says, his mouth stretched in a lopsided smile, his eyes traveling over the utilitarian pressed-wood dresser with the blonde veneer, the bed that's just a box spring and mattress on a steel frame. Commander Jane Shepard clearly did not give a fuck.
She stands in the doorway and when he realizes he's wringing his hands he drops them stiffly to his sides, where they proceed, as if of their own volition, to start tapping his thighs in a silent staccato rhythm. "I have some credits from Liara, if it's ok to, you know, dress it up a bit," he tells her, tap-tap-tapping.
She just looks at him then and his eyes, practiced at the move, flicker over her shoulder to focus beyond her again.
Her eyes are burning little points into his forehead. He can't usually feel someone's eyes on him so hard but then again he doesn't deal with women very often. Women who are his…sister? Mother? Progenitor? It was easier before, with the armor, guns and angry words between them.
"I know I'm handsome but you don't need to stare at me that damn hard."
A weak desperate joke that deserved nothing more than a disdainful turn of her back, leaving him standing there like a fool.
Instead, Jane finally smiles. It is bare, but it is a smile, and it sets off an answering smile in him like a chemical reaction.
"It's a bit late, but I still have time to go out," he suggests, glancing at her throat, unconsciously looking for the scar he put there with a combat knife. "Get another bed or… whatever you think is okay."
Jane's shoulders tighten in a shrug. "I'd rather just order what you need. Companies trip over themselves to send me free stuff so you can keep your credits." she says at last.
He nods. "Right, right. Whatever you like."
He realizes he's staring at her neck. The thought creeps in that he hadn't seen the scar in a while and he wonders how it is healing. And then he realizes he is staring and Jane is staring back, her pink mouth twisted in annoyance.
He nods again. "Right. Sorry." And he slips past her and out of the room, palming his short beard and feeling the corners of his mouth pulling down into a deep frown.