December Seventeenth
"Dammit, Shep, would you just open the damn thing?" Garrus held the brightly wrapped package out to her. He loved taking care of her, but did she have to make everything so hard?
Shaking her head, Shep crossed her arms, refusing to take it. "It's not Christmas yet. And besides, you're getting cranky. Exactly how long are we supposed to stay here? I'm better. I don't need more bed rest. I need to be out there, doing stuff."
Garrus sighed, imbuing the sound with all the sarcasm and frustration of the last two weeks. Don't snap at her, she's on edge too. "If you would just open the damn present, it would help with that."
"Really?" Shepard raised an eyebrow, finally relenting and taking the gift box. "Even though it's not tradition to open presents this early?" She lifted the box to her ear, but Garrus grabbed her wrist, immobilizing it.
"Don't shake it, Shep. Just don't."
Looking perplexed now, Shep sat down and set the package on her lap to unwrap it. She hesitated before reaching into the pile of tissue paper within.
Garrus noticed he was clenching his mandibles, and forcibly relaxed them. "It won't bite, Shep. At least, it won't bite you."
"That's very reassuring, big guy." She plunged her hand through the paper and gasped when her fingertips found cool metal.
"You didn't!" She pulled the brand-new pistol out of the box with her left hand, using her right to shred the tissue that clung to it. This was the first gun she had held in months; most of her weaponry had ended up either destroyed or missing in the final battle.
The look of awe on her face was worth it.
"This is a Copperhead. This isn't even available yet!" She ran her hand along the top, where the black gun was set off with bronze.
Garrus lifted his chin, preening. I knew she would love it. "Didn't I tell you it would help? Now we can go shoot stuff."