"That's really not how I remember it," Miranda says, causing Jack to look up in surprise. "I seem to remember you limping out, bleeding from a gash in your head, and I had to have two teeth regrown."
"Hey, Cerberus bitch, when did you get here?" Jack rises from her chair, stepping over to give Miranda a hug, then her husband. "Alenko, did you hack my door again?"
"Not my fault your security protocols can be taken down by any schoolkid," he says, grinning. "You're telling tall tales about the crew, huh?"
Smirking, Jack settles down in her chair. "Yep, but only because my kids brought me the good stuff." Picking up her empty glass, she glares at it. "You only get storytime if you brought me the good stuff."
Chuckling, Miranda goes back to the front door, picking up a box and carrying it back to the armchair. "I hope this counts as the good stuff then?"
Opening the box, Jack stares at the cake, obviously homemade. "Crap, Cerberus, you make this yourself?"
Kaidan bursts out laughing. "Miranda, cook?"
"I am perfectly serviceable in the kitchen," she protests, blushing slightly.
"Sweetie, you can make a sandwich. Or a bowl of cereal. Then, you have pushed the limits of your knowledge." Still smirking, he leans over and kisses her, all of Jack's grandchildren averting their eyes.
"Alright. Cake for dessert. But not right now," Jason says, taking the delicacy from his mom's lap and moving it to safety in the kitchen. "What other ridiculous stories do you have about dad's old crew?"
Chuckling, Jack stretches in her chair. "How about the time I beat Garrus in a shooting contest?"
"Look, Jack, just because Shepard lost to me doesn't mean you have to come up here and defend his honor," Garrus said. Jack stood on the edge of the support bar, staring down at the pools of the Presidium, thirty stories below. "Also, please don't tell me you're going to jump."
Laughing, she skips back from the edge. "Relax, scarface. I'm not fucking suicidal. But we both know I'm a better shot than John Shepard."
"Careful, that's your boyfriend you're mocking," he teases her, setting down the case of beer. "Just because he's an engineer, and not a trained sniper, doesn't mean he's a bad shot."
Jack gives him a flat look. "Garrus, on the collector ship, he shot a praetorian from five meters away and missed."
"But he hit the drone on the other side," he protests.
"Uh-huh. The blind luck, he does have. So, you want me to shoot first?" she asks, picking up one of the beer bottles and chugging it. "Damn, that hit the spot."
Shrugging, he reaches over, taking the empty from her. He waits a moment as she draws her pistol, flexing her fingers on the grip. At her nod, he rears back, hurling the bottle out into the empty space. Lifting the gun, she tracks it for a moment and pulls the trigger, the distant glass shattering.
"Well, not too bad," Garrus says. "Still, even Shepard hit that one."
"With a bullet, or a plasma blast?" she asks. He says nothing, finishing off his own beer, and handing her the bottle.
Her face is still lit up in a superior grin, and she takes three steps back, summoning her biotics before taking a running start to hurl the bottle. Boosted by her biotics, it shoots forward, air shrieking across the open top. Garrus lines up his shot and squeezes the trigger, then stares through the scope, jaw dropped and mandibles wide.
"Looks like I win," Jack says. "But thanks for the beer."
"Hey now, that's cheating! You can't use your biotics to pull the bottle out of the way before I fire!" He looks up as the aircar starts, Jack waving to him from the pilot seat as she flies away, leaving him sitting there at the top of the Presidium with the dextro half of the case of beer. Sulking, he sits down on the edge, watching the lines of cars moving. "I don't know what Shepard sees in that woman."