My goodness, so many theories on the identity of G's new lady (all perfectly feasible, I might add.) At least we'll know now, and I'm curious to how it matches expectations.

As soon as she made it onto the ceremony—which turned out to be more of a social gathering in her honor—she made it her first priority to scope out the perimeter for something to drink. There was no way she was going to get up the nerve to walk amongst a bunch of politicians and high society snobs without some liquid courage. She found a salarian carrying a tray and ambushed him, making off with a glass of champagne—the good stuff, by the taste of it.

"Commander, long time no see," a voice said behind her, she stopped mid-gulp and turned to find Commander Bailey. She quickly shook his extended hand, "It's been too long. Glad you made it out in one piece."

He chuckled, "Yeah, out of one frying pan," he motioned to the people around him, gathered in clusters and talking over the soft hum of the musical ensemble, "and into another. I assume you're not too fond of these affairs either, quite a drink you've got there."

"No, and I'm just getting started," she had planned her whole route around the salarian serving drinks, she'd only pretend to keep on bumping into him, of course, to keep up appearances. "I heard about the evacuation. Impressive stuff, you managed to save the council too."

He tugged at the collar of an expensive-looking suit, "Nothing really worth mentioning. It's all about protocol, really. You're the one whose story is really worth telling. Anyway, I better get back, I'm here on security detail too, guess it's the only way they could justify letting me in."

She nodded, "Good luck."

She finished off her drink and glanced around, finding the salarian serving up drinks to a group. Behind her, a table littered with delicious and foreign looking foods was being stocked. She decided to swoop down and grab a few pastries while her salarian finished refilling his drink tray.

"Huh." She frowned at a rather large basin filled with water and floating dish-shaped disks with strange frothy toppings.

"Oh, you don't want those," a decidedly feminine voice said behind her. She turned and was surprised to find a turian eying her with amusement. A female, you didn't see those every day. She was striking; her markings a pale white—centered around her eyes and drawing out into her shorter fringe.

"Unless you want to vomit later," she said after a brief pause, picking one up with an air of civility. "It's called Amatise, made from a fungus that grows on Palaven, a delicacy among my people."

Shepard frowned, "Ah, that…doesn't sound very appealing."

The woman chuckled with a slight flare of her mandibles, "To each their own, I suppose."

Shepard nodded, and the woman politely excused herself just as Shepard caught sight of the salarian.

"Got anything stronger?" she asked, grabbing a drink from his tray. The salarian shook his head, "No ma'am. I mean, I could look—"

"Nah, just keep em coming," she said and quickly downed the one in her hands, taking another before moving on.

Shepard made it a point to keep moving, avoiding people as much as possible. For the most part, it was brilliant, but there was no way to avoid the meaningless chatter altogether. She hated the way they would pull her into a group, asking her about the time she did this and that like there wasn't already a biography written about her (as she had found out earlier, when she'd autographed a paper copy).

After having refilled her glass for the billionth time, Shepard eventually found herself next to the turian councilor, who turned and greeted her, "Enjoying yourself?" he asked, his tone undeniably pleasant for a change.

She nodded, "The food's not bad. Tried the amatise yet?"

He seemed a little bewildered, "No."

She lifted her brows at him, "Turian delicacy, you know."

"I... am aware," he glanced down at the drink in her hands, "I hope you are behaving yourself."

She shrugged, "As much as I possibly can," she looked back at him, "you know, you and me, we need to go drinking sometime."

He seemed thoroughly amused at the thought, "It would be a fascinating experience, I'm certain."

She tipped her glass in his direction, "And you would be correct."

"Shepard," he said, leaning close so that she could hear him through the orchestra playing in the background, "you are clearly intoxicated."

She gave him a crooked smile and caught a glimpse of the turian woman she'd run into earlier. Her eyes followed her as she joined a group of asari, who greeted her with noted enthusiasm. It was only when Shepard noticed who followed closely behind her that everything came to a hard stop.

He must have been doing an incredible job at staying out of her way because she hadn't seen him all night. Hell, with all the drinking and salarian-stalking, she had half-suppressed the memory of their earlier encounter. Now, it came back with a vengeance, and she realized she had answered her earlier question.

That's who 'she' was.

Shepard felt a hard lump at her throat and forced herself to turn her attention back to the councilor, the anguish in her eyes too apparent for him not to notice something was wrong.

"Look, I…" her hands were shaking; her mind too incoherent to figure out what the appropriate feeling was for the situation. Panic, for the time being, seemed to be what she was settling into. That and the sudden need to get away—fast. "I really have to go."

He glanced behind him, curious to the cause of her distress. Through the crowd, he noticed the Primarch's niece standing in the company of Spectre Vakarian and instantly understood.

He turned back, a note of apology in his voice, "Shepard…"

She was gone.

The salarian was coming out of the kitchens with refilled drinks. He smiled when he saw her heading for him, "Back for mo-"

She grabbed his arm, turning him around and leading him back into the kitchens. He gave a short, nervous laugh, "S-shepard, what-"

She hushed him, "Listen, I need to get out of here, preferably without anyone noticing."

He noticed the urgency in her voice, and became alarmed. "Is something happening?" he asked, wide-eyed.

"It's not like that," she muttered, setting down the mostly drained glass she'd been holding a little too tightly, "Listen…I just can't be here. Just take my word for it."

He was silent for a moment, but nodded. "There is the back door where the staff comes in, but you'll have to be quick. I imagine they would recognize you."

She nodded, "I appreciate this."

"You helped my brother on Ilium, it's the least I could do."

"Ilium?"

"It was years and years ago, I don't really expect you to remember," he said, "you shot down the mechs that were attacking the workers in one of the buildings he was working in."

The salarian worker on Nassana's building.

She nodded to show she remembered, "Of course," she gave a mirthless chuckle, "things were much simpler back then, believe it or not."