Placing her hands on the rail she watches for a few minutes before interrupting. His flattering words on her behalf to the Primearch strike home and fill her with odd satisfaction. It is always reassuring to hear that someone you admire so ardently returns that.
"Doesn't take you long to get to work, Garrus." She knows his response before he says it.
"These weapons aren't going to calibrate themselves."
She snickers. "It's good to have you back, for more than just your good aim." It's almost as if nothing has changed and no time has gone by.
"Yeah," he starts with that ever-present hint of humor. "I am pretty sure we're still going to need big guns, though."
He shifts and looks at her a bit solemnly. Conversations with Garrus have a tendency to veer wildly from mood to mood even in the same sentence. It's refreshing in its own way.
"What do you think of our chances, Garrus?" She doesn't need to tell him to be honest. Garrus never did sugar coat things. Not even for her.
"Turians are taught from birth that when the war ends, if there is one person left standing, it's a victory."
"That's an interesting metric you're using." She looks at her feet, realizing that he's right. As much as she hates it, he's right.
"The problem is that humans want to save everyone." He's realistic. She has always valued that above all. Even his ace calibrations.
Rolling her lips in over her teeth for a moment, she changes the subject. "Someone is going to have to rebuild Palaven when this is over, you know. You could be Primearch Vakarian."
"Ha. Let's not go there, Shepard." He chucks her on the arm, and they stand in silence staring at one another for a few moments.
"It doesn't really feel good to be proven right, does it Shepard?" He glances at her from the terminal.
"Not at all, Garrus. Not at all."