Chapter 9: The Strangest Asari
In the shadows, Shepard waited. It was mostly to stay under Dr. Chakwas' radar. If the doctor saw the discoloration growing more vibrant under Shepard's eyes, then she would never hear the end of it. As she waited, she watched, and watched, and was aware she was being watched anyways. Hopefully keeping her gaze square on Liara would repel the doctor that waited for the right opportunity to point out that Shepard hadn't been taking her medication, and therefore not sleeping.
"I can't afford to sleep. I slipped up that night. I should've expected someone to break into Liara's apartment. If Tali isn't able to guarantee hack-proof security, then..."
Shepard frowned and pinched the bridge of her nose, massaging to coax her infernal headache away.
"Liara will be moving and living aboard the Normandy anyways, from now on. Will losing her apartment be a big deal then?"
It might be, depending on how Shepard decided to break the news. Whatever happened from here on out, she had to at least try to remember to be mindful that sometimes people were sentimental in ways she couldn't comprehend. Another thing to add to the list that she never expected she ever would come to understand.
Liara seemed to be whispering something to the pod that contained the asari commando 'Kaleema'. The archaeologist had a hand on the glass, a sorrowful but hopeful smile. She seemed to glance about as if to see if anybody was watching her, and in that second, Shepard dipped her head and pretended to be checking her synthetic hand. She caught a swift stolen kiss to the glass before Liara wiped at it to erase the evidence with her sleeve.
"So they had that kind of relationship."
Something wrenched, somewhere.
Dr. T'Soni went to the adjacent pod that held 'Neekoo'. The soldier decided to go to Dr. Chakwas, though approached from behind.
"Please let Dr. T'Soni know that I will be waiting for her in my quarters when she is done. I'm going to start preparing what I need."
"Don't forget to take your medication with you when you do."
"It was bound to be mentioned at some point," Shepard inwardly sighed. "We'll be back here tonight. It's not safe to be in her apartment."
"...Understood, Commander."
With that, the soldier marched out the med-bay and to her quarters, a strange uneasiness curling inside of her. She attributed it to her failure at keeping Dr. T'Soni's property safe. Even with all that pragmatic caution in the galaxy, still someone managed to slip through the cracks to plant cameras in precarious places, places that would scarcely retrieve valuable intel on routine or the like. It was almost as though the hacker just wanted to prove a point that they could infiltrate right under Shepard's nose, rather than accomplish anything meaningful with their equipment.
"If that actually is the case, then they're already the complete opposite to the agents we faced in Benezia's estate. Maybe they're the leader who's manipulated the others?"
Whatever it was, she was determined to find out today and close the case.
As soon as Shepard entered her quarters, she strode to her closet and glanced around to ensure she was alone. Every corner checked, every shadow scrutinized. Satisfied, she pushed aside the uniforms that camouflaged her wall safe, containing valuable - and ridiculously expensive - gear. Something inside of her died a little more inside upon remembering the price tags.
"I hope I won't actually need to use these."
She punched in the code and scanned her hand to open her safe, then took off her shirt to have ease of access to her synthetic arm. She unlocked the plates and each slid out, revealing hidden compartments inside, where she stashed what she might need: a couple miniature ball-sized smoke grenades and a damping grenade. Next, she removed her belt, boots, and pants, working on the same with her synthetic leg. Her combat knife was hidden and slid into the back of her achilles.
"What once was," an idle thought passed.
She silenced it viciously.
"Annoying..."
It happened every time she resorted to gearing up like this for subterfuge missions. And, like every time, the more immediate reminders she could not just mentally whisk away would strike her with vivid pain. It burrowed in the back of her cybernetic ankle and shot up like sciatic nerve pain, where she once struggled with during her tenure as the barracks officer.
What she'd give to actually have that pain again, instead of the memory of it.
Desperate to stop this cycle before it got carried away, Shepard locked up her synthetic limbs after a suitable amount of assorted ordnance was stored and beelined for her heavy bag. Out of nowhere, the uneasiness inside of her exploded tenfold, and she felt as though she was going to be some kind of insane, quivering mess.
With the worst timing ever, the door to her quarters hissed open. Dr. T'Soni entered, and for the few seconds their eyes met, the soldier already deduced just how inevitably screwed she was. Blue eyes widened. Shepard didn't care. She latched on for a distraction and approached with purpose, snagging the archaeologist's wrist before she turned around to hightail it out of here.
"Stay... Please."
Shepard prayed with her entire being that she wouldn't be psychoanalyzed, that she wouldn't be nitpicked for what was so plainly evident all over her face. She saw what these phantom pains did to her by practising how to hide them in the mirror. She never could.
"C-Commander," Dr. T'Soni starkly turned her head. "At least put on pants, please."
"What?" Shepard looked down at herself, and somehow, somewhere, chuckles skipped out of her. She went to her bed to retrieve her uniform. "Sorry."
"But actually, thank you so, so much, for having strange priorities."
Was nudity truly that big of a deal? It was making itself very obvious that it was. This poor baby-faced, sweet and soft thing was going to have so much trouble on this ship. There was almost a strange urge to cradle and protect it rather than let this life harden the archaeologist.
As soon as Shepard's belt buckle snapped into place, she noticed the body in her peripheral vision completely disintegrate in it's stiffness, and it made her bite her tongue to stop herself from smiling. She eschewed her uniform shirt and went through her closet to snag one of her military turtlenecks, focusing on the alien sensations of something she hardly wore, unless needing an extra layer of security to hide the nature of her synthetic arm. She tested the fit by sliding the sleeve up and down to ensure it wouldn't get in the way of her dismantling the plates in order to access the compartments inside.
"Commander?"
That tender passing was trouble. That tone made muscles lock down, had flared that persistent pain, and Shepard was faced with yet another task she currently didn't possess an adequate amount of patience for, with it being chipped away by the persevering phantom.
"Just a headache, Dr. T'Soni," she lied.
She searched her closet for her thin body armour, remembering it was stashed in her locker in the hangar bay. What an annoying predicament. Now she was forced to turn around, or be questioned as to why she was staring at clothes. She couldn't very well lie and just brush it off as insanity or the archaeologist would never trust her lead and command for anything.
With a sigh, Shepard reluctantly turned. She was caught off guard by the way Dr. T'Soni smiled at her - sorrowful, knowing, yet respectfully quiet about it. It was concerning that she knew even without the subject ever being touched on.
"Concerning?"
"I'm not sure how much time we have, Commander, but may we sit and talk for a little bit?"
"No," Shepard brusquely blurted, dread snaking around her throat at the prospect of what was going to be the focal point of their 'talk'.
"Not even over a glass of wine?" Dr. T'Soni pressed, amusement in her tone. "I was hoping to discuss Prothean artwork."
"Absolutely not."
Soft laughter danced. The soldier stiffened when Dr. T'Soni approached her with a strange charm in the bouncy air of her steps. Tentative fingers wrapped around Shepard's wrist and pulled towards the table, her authority diminished by a simple touch and smile. She couldn't gauge what was happening, what the archaeologist's true intentions were. The artwork was clearly as false of a front as her lie about her headache.
"Hers better be a lie, anyways. Or she will face consequences."
Needing to learn the truth - and ensure that they were not, in fact, going to talk about things that would make Shepard rather stand in front of a thresher maw instead - she had decided to lean a little on trusty old intimidation as she cleared her throat to harden her voice.
"You will be punished severely if we discuss Prothean artwork, Dr. T'Soni."
"Oh?"
"I have no shortage amount of tasks that have broken my toughest marines and made them cry."
"You'd make me cry, Commander?"
That tone. Those eyes. What the hell was this asari doing? Planning? Playing at? She was taunting, teasing, tempting. She needed to stop before she dug herself a hole even an archaeologist like her wouldn't be able to crawl out of.
"I'm warning you, Dr. T'Soni-"
Shepard grunted when she was playfully shoved to sit in a chair. She watched helplessly as her own alcohol cabinet was opened, bottle and glasses retrieved, perspective challenged by the glint in the eyes of one she sooner attributed labels like 'naive' or 'innocent' to. The swish of alcohol melted the tension embroiled in her muscles, somewhat. The Phantom rattled the cage and renewed its efforts as her synthetic arm quivered with agony. She stared at the pool of red in her glass.
{Commander Shepard, Delta has gone dark and we're surrounded!}
Red flew and splattered. Blood. Glass shattered. Mako.
She'd shut off to the sounds. She had to. She had to focus amidst the screams, the gunfire, the rumbling of earth and the roars of maws. She shut off. She had to keep calm, to keep a level head, to think strategically. When she saw armour disintegrate, flesh melt, acid beginning to turn her shin bone into a puddle that had even seared through the earth, she shut off. She couldn't hear her own screams, her own gunfire, her own roars and rumbling of earth as she threw grenades, catching on too late that she had thrown some in the direction of her marines.
She shut off, even as cool hands clasped her cheeks.
"Shepard?" Dr. T'Soni whispered shakily.
Shepard blinked, staring numbly at the blue eyes that seemed as clear as the water she waded in on the beach. She shut herself off from those things being screamed in those eyes, like pounding on a window. She conjured a smile.
"Dr. T'Soni."
There was relief, in that instant. How, she didn't know. She heard how robotic she sounded. She heard, but all she could think of was the relief that the Phantom fell back asleep in its cage.
They stared, and the soldier used this moment to study up close. She glanced at the hands still on her cheeks, and her gaze unfortunately rattled them away from her. She caught a wrist without thinking, staring at those blue fingers. They were slightly calloused. She closed her eyes and dipped her head as she released the hand, but nudged into it with her cheek.
"Please."
Something shook inside.
"Please."
Instinct drew her palms up to drill against her eyes. The images, however faded, never relented in their torment and beat with every blink.
"Please. Make it stop."
Arms wound around her head. Warmth and fabric pressed against her forehead as darkness clouded her vision from the closeness of the archaeologist's body. She stared at Liara's feet, unable to find the courage to lift her head and meet those blue eyes - because it meant confrontation, and she wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible as what was in her mind.
Something glinted in her peripheral vision when those arms adjusted a little, and she saw the shattered glass at the far end of the wall, the wine that dribbled down and pooled on the tile.
"Those sounds were because of me. I'll have to remember to send for someone to clean that up. Ah... I'll do it later."
Those sounds always had been because of her, always will be. They were her responsibility. They were her responsibility. If she hadn't made that wretched call to-
"One time," Liara murmured, "I fought a Hanar."
That piqued interest in an instant.
Shepard's head shot up, a part of her missing the warmth of the belly that pressed against her, but she had to validate the truth in those eyes. They told no lies. Her hair was gently pushed away and combed back, bangs pinned to the top of her head. The light scratch of nails against her scalp shot a strange sensation down her spine.
"Seriously?" Shepard croaked in disbelief. "I've never even fought one before. How the hell do Hanar fight?"
"With great agility," Liara chuckled. "Their advantage and precise control of their... Limbs... Made it quite difficult for me to gain the offensive. And terrifying to dodge five pistols gunning for me."
"Okay, that's badass." Shepard sized up the archaeologist as if to validate her well-being. "But you won, clearly."
"I did."
"How?"
Liara shrugged meekly. "I suppose it was desperation, mixed with my advantage and precise control of my biotics. I've always handled myself, but I also always tried to avoid conflict, wherever possible. The Hanar left me no choice but to render 'that one' unconscious."
"If that were me, I'd make sure the Hanar was rendered unconscious, permanently." Shepard mused, both impressed and concerned with Liara's compassion - even towards her enemies. "It's going to get her hurt, someday. Perhaps she would do well with a pragmatic bodyguard, then. I could assign her one on her next endeavour."
A mental checklist of about 100 marines was struck down in an instant, frustratingly enough. She would brainstorm another day on this. Now? She needed critical answers.
"So... Why did you two fight, then?"
"Well, Hanar revere the Protheans, and that one investigated my dig site." There was a sudden twinkle in those blue eyes. "We fought over Prothean artwork."
"Alright." Shepard rolled her eyes. "Get out. I'm so done with you."
That laughter graced the soldier's being, embraced her, was medicine for the soul. Liara - unfortunately - relinquished her hold in favour of plopping down in one of the other chairs, but at least she had scooted over close enough for the tips of their feet to steal an occasional brush. And steal, Shepard did. Somehow, somewhere, a smile came readily to her face, as did a tease.
"This is the opposite of what I said, Dr. T'Soni."
"I know."
"And?"
"And?"
"You aren't going to explain yourself?"
"Not until you specify what exactly I should be explaining myself for. There are a wide range of things I could explain, otherwise, and time is of the essence. We may-"
Shepard suppressed the next roll of her eyes. She rose from her chair as she reaffirmed. "I'm so done."
Liara's chuckles needed to be contained. They were dangerous. They were doing things that the soldier didn't know how to describe, and that made her restless. She needed to do something though. Needed revenge. Instead her hands mimicked out of curiosity, to see how it felt, even if she couldn't express it or decipher it. She stood before the archaeologist and framed the blue cheeks - curious to feel warmth against her organic palm. It seemed to elicit wide-scale paralysis in the archaeologist, then a nervous reaction, then... Something Shepard couldn't pinpoint, couldn't understand.
So she squished Liara's cheeks.
Confusion lit up in those blue eyes, eyes that made Shepard want to wade in the water again. Was it possible to drown in those eyes? It felt like it. They each gave their word not to let the other drown, or at least scream together.
The soldier frowned. "You're strange."
Her rudeness was rewarded with a chuckle. It only puzzled her even more, though she tried not to hold on to it as encouragement. She didn't want to become borderline disrespectful, especially if Liara was only being polite. Or perhaps she didn't want to say anything for fear of the commanding officer of the ship would eject her from the crew. That needed to be remedied.
"You don't need to be afraid of me," Shepard reassured. "You don't have to be polite with me. I encourage my subordinates to be frank with me. Not... Not that you're a subordinate. You're part of the crew, still, though. You're..."
She reached for some kind of adequate explanation, more so for herself though. That Liara's expression was blank and unreadable was not a good sign. There was only one explanation.
"You're strange."
"I imagine I would be, with the way you are still squishing my cheeks," the archaeologist teased, words slightly distorted. She rolled along with it all regardless. Then her eyes changed to... Something strange, as usual. "I am not afraid of you, Shepard. Nor am I just being 'polite' for the sake of it. I appreciate your own honesty, and I laugh at the likes of it because it is not something I find often with the individuals I've crossed paths with. Many asari frown at such expressions. It - as you humans say - catches me off guard, but it is a refreshing change of pace to me."
This was too much. Shepard didn't know what to do with this, what to say to this. It wasn't the words Liara said, but the underlying context of it all - whatever that context was. The soldier's body was trying to alert her, planting red flags. Her heartbeat needed to be calmed. She needed to perform an 'oil check' to stop herself from falling down into a rabbit hole of negativity, as she liked to call it. She released her hold and took a few steps back, inhaling for 4 seconds as she did, exhaling for 4 seconds when she stopped.
"What have I accomplished so far today? How did they positively impact others?" Shepard coaxed ideas, distracting herself from this alien turmoil inside of her. "What are things I still want to accomplish today? I want to find intel at the university. I want to find who's responsible or who else is allied with Saren. I want to keep us safe when we do."
She was stuck staring at the patient smile the archaeologist wore, though confusion was always ready on her face. Usually, Shepard didn't care to explain herself. She didn't care if others expected an answer from her. It puzzled her further that she had actually wanted to, here.
"An oil check," she explained, watching as that confusion flickered and grew on Liara's face. "I'm... I do these mental exercises. They help, a little. I think of what I've accomplished, what I want to accomplish, and then..."
"Why am I telling her?"
"And then?" Liara whispered, leaning forward on her chair with eagerness sweeping over her confusion.
"And then I try to think of a happy memory."
Shepard tamed her scowl, tried to stay away from the inevitable problem that has always lingered. She couldn't maintain that earnest gaze, couldn't bring herself to see what happened when she would be the one that would destroy that infectious enthusiasm. There was a pitched battle inside of her to spill the beans or to shut up. She struggled valiantly to remain silent so that she wouldn't - once again, as usual - depress the archaeologist.
"What kinds of happy memories do you think of?" Liara asked, though her tone had softened, as if already expecting the blow had been dealt.
"Memories? I struggle just to think of a single memory."
Still, Shepard refused to answer. She looked at her door, her escape.
"The marines should be done with the sky-car, by now. We should leave. Commence our mission. Dr. T'Soni said Serrice is 3 hours away."
3 hours. What were they going to do in those 3 hours? Liara was going to want to do more of this strange talking thing. She was going to want answers. Instead... She provided them.
"Was the trip to the beach good enough to become a happy memory?"
"It was."
"Was watching Blue Bloods good enough to become a happy memory?"
"It was."
"Was Shirvan good enough to become a happy memory?"
"It was."
Shepard nodded each time, though felt lame for her hesitation in affirming it verbally. She was taken aback when Liara had approached decisively, watching blue fingers scoop up her synthetic ones.
"Does it become a happy memory to get revenge on me, Commander?"
"It does," Shepard blurted with a smile growing of its own free will. "Those are very happy memories."
"I bet they are," Liara chuckled gently.
It looked like she was squeezing the synthetic hand. The soldier couldn't even feel the pressure. It almost flared the Phantom, the wrathful Wraith, but she ignored it by keeping focused on her newfound realization that she had happy memories - in the plural - after all.
"It sounds like you have many happy memories, Shepard."
"I didn't before."
Shepard glanced over at her PDA, still abandoned on her bed from the time she had gone through Kate Bowman's dossier. Something inside of her shut off.
"Because I didn't deserve them. I still don't."
"I think, more than anyone else, you do," Liara pressed. "I think the mental exercises that you do - or at least attempt - is a wonderful idea. We asari do something similar and are encouraged to incorporate those kinds of things in daily meditation, should one decide to turn it into routine. It's a part of our philosophy, a reminder to keep present in the moment, to avoid being too passive and slothful with our lives due to our long lifespans."
Philosophy. Information. It piqued Shepard's curiosity, gave her a new distraction to latch onto, gave her new things to learn about. The asari culture was so vast. The strange asari in front of her was still the most interesting part of it all.
"I don't want to only learn about your culture, Dr. T'Soni," Shepard confessed. "I want to learn more about you."
That did something to Liara's eyes, for some reason. They appeared brighter. More enthusiastic - if that was even possible anymore. The strange asari seemed excited.
"Shall we embark to Serrice, then? 3 hours is a lot of time. I could benefit with some now, to think of topics for the trip."
Shepard nodded. "I need to make a quick stop at the hangar bay to retrieve my tactical vest. I'll meet you at the airlock."
"Alright. And your vest will not be packed with explosives, correct?"
There was an evil smile that slipped out. Shepard decided not to answer as she left the archaeologist to stew in her panic.
The University of Serrice was going to deny entry just on appearance alone. Liara tried not to think about it when they reunited to enter the sky-car, to put her trust in the soldier that there were no grenades nor firearms hidden on her person. She observed as Shepard unstrapped the several pouches on the vest to adjust the things stuffed in there. The archaeologist's curious gawking was caught in record time, almost as if she was being observed too.
"Gravimetric emitters to artificially increase my mass, to protect me from concussive forces like explosions or high impact biotics - like what those commandos employed at the estate."
"There will be no explosions," Liara pleaded in a roundabout way.
Fear struck through her upon that subtle heinous smile.
"Not from me," Shepard promised. "Should make it harder on them if I get attacked again. I won't be lifted or thrown so easily."
"Would you like to see if I might be able to lift you, before we input our destination?"
"That won't be necessary. But thank you, Dr. T'Soni. This setup has been through rigorous testing already."
"Do I want to ask what kind of testing she does?" Liara paled. "I think not."
Shepard leaned forward to type the coordinates into the sky-car's navigation system. She leaned back to relax, her gear rustling and crinkling along, then looked out the window as the sky-car revved up to sail away. A familiar silence fell upon them, where the only comfort found in it was how often this happened between them. Liara wondered when she should spark up conversation with some of the topics she'd thought of - while fighting not to ask the questions she had wished answers for.
"That face she made, when she swatted the wine glass. Her eyes became a mirror, yet traversed a thousand yards away. It was terrifying not to be able to reach her. What dark place does her mind go?"
The speed of which was just as frightening. They were laughing one minute, and the next Shepard had made the kind of look that would make someone wish they were dead if they slighted her. The colours that grew under the human's eyes was most concerning, but she still seemed as sharp as ever, despite the obvious signs of sleep deprivation. It made Liara wonder - against her will - how often the soldier went through this.
Something inside of her desperately wanted to reach out - without thought, she did. She reached to squeeze Shepard's knee the way it was often done for her. It was meagre comfort, but it was the only comfort she could think to give that wouldn't spurn the turtle to slip into it's shell.
Surprisingly, a sleepy smile quirked the soldier's mouth up. Her gaze seemed to slow-pane away from the window, lazily falling on Liara, squinting a little. The sunglasses came out not long afterwards.
"There's been something I've been wondering, Dr. T'Soni, but I'm not sure how to ask. I don't wish to upset you."
"Well, that's ominous." Liara braced herself, her mind racing with ideas. "I doubt you would. I think you have seen that I am not so easily offended."
"Not... That kind of upset." Shepard's head turned to the window. "I remember you said you grew up with Kaleema. What is she to you?"
"Ah, I see."
Though it did bring a measure of sadness over the precarious situation, Liara held onto the sliver of hope that they would figure out what was going on - and figure out how to reverse whatever madness had gripped Kaleema and Neekoo. A reminiscent smile painted the archaeologist's face as memories flooded in.
"Her parents were very good friends with my mother. One of them... Perished in an accident. Her father - as you humans would designate as such - had no choice but to work in order to pay the bills, so my mother offered to babysit. Kaleema was like the sister I never had."
An action caught her eye, piqued her curiosity, where the synthetic hand balled into a fist, and drew towards Shepard's hip. The story held more prevalence and her mind thought nothing of it.
"Her family didn't care about me being a... Pureblood." Liara diverted her gaze. "Kaleema used to protect me when some children bullied me." Her smile returned more readily upon remembering the news. "I was not shocked to hear her proclamation that she would become the greatest commando the galaxy had ever seen. She had so much fire in her, so much determination and focus in the way she trained... I really believed it." Her heart plummeted when her mind betrayed her with the most recent memory of Kaleema. "And now..."
"We'll find out what's going on with her and then we'll know how to help her, Dr. T'Soni. You have my word."
The way Shepard urged that, it wrought images of waves crashing against rocks on a turbulent morning, where a storm approached. A different kind of grit that Kaleema had. The fire and the water.
"They would make a strong pair."
"Dr. Chakwas is one of the best doctors I've had the pleasure of working with," Shepard continued. "If she determines that it is a problem she cannot solve, then she has a vast network of contacts and specialists to collaborate with. She is not above reaching out to do so. Every individual who comes under her care and becomes her patient matters as much to her as anyone on the crew."
"That is reassuring to hear." Liara's smile flooded from her heart, her doubts pushed just a little bit further away. "Thank you, Commander."
All the soldier did was stare, and her synthetic hand seemed to twitch. It would slide just the tiniest bit over her lap, until she forced it to stay down by her hip. She turned her head with vigour and presumably fixed her gaze out the window again, clearing her throat.
"So... I apologize if this is an offensive question, but it seems as though 'Pureblood' is not a good term. Was that why there was an abundance of those volumes in the Asari confessions series?"
Warmth flushed the archaeologist's face in an instant. She suddenly found her attire very interesting, plucking at imaginary pills of fabric on her lap. Her reaction set off the wrong red flag.
"Ah, I see. Sorry, Dr. T'Soni. I won't ask again."
"N-no, it's not offensive, erm, well the term is, but..." Liara took a deep breath to steady herself. "No polite asari would be so unkind as to say it to my face. It is a taboo among my people, now, for asari to partner with each other. In our philosophy, nothing is gained. There is also a rare genetic defect that is only present in offspring produced by a pairing of asari, which may very well be the origin as to why asari pairings are a social taboo now. That is not to say there are those that do not pursue whatsoever, but it becomes a little more complicated. Since opening our borders to other species, some asari will seek out a different species that is willing to pretend to be their partner, in order to deflect attention from the asari's relationship with other asari partners. Those willing to pretend are called Outriggers."
"They're... What? But how did your species survive without mating with one another before achieving spaceflight?"
"Of course we had to, then. But now it's frowned upon."
Liara glanced over and smiled at the obvious confusion on the human's face, with eyebrows endearingly pinched together.
"An outrigger is an extra hull added to a boat for stability, though," Shepard murmured, her bewilderment plain in her tone. And then her penchant for too much honesty made its amusing debut again. "You asari have strange colloquialisms."
"I suppose we do," Liara agreed with a chuckle.
When silence fell between them, they each returned to their leisurely hobby of gazing out the window. The archaeologist stole as inconspicuous of a look as she could at the sky-car's time. They still had 2 hours and 43 minutes to go until they reached their destination.
"This is going to be a terribly long trip..."
"In my culture," Shepard blurted, "Being a 'Pureblood' is a sought after thing. Especially for livestock or those who seek companionship with animals. They're more expen-" she stopped abruptly. Cleared her throat. "Uh, I don't think that's helping."
"I admit, I am not entirely enthused to being likened to an animal."
"It's okay, Commander. I understand where your intentions lie. Thank you."
Liara could feel the stare combing over her. Her gaze unglued from the window when a firm hand slid over her knee. The soldier took off her sunglasses, determination vivid in her eyes.
"It doesn't matter what you are, Liara. Who you are is more important."
Warmth swelled in her chest, and swiftly her face became consumed by it again. She felt squeamish in her seat, her fingers itching to slide over the hand on her knee, but her courage extinguished at the mere thought. Her mouth traversed without her brain.
"And who am I?"
"Did you suffer a concussion too?" Shepard scoffed lightly. "You're Dr. Liara T'Soni." Her hand squeezed. "The strangest asari I've ever come to know."
Liara laughed.
"I'm sensing a pattern with her use of the word 'strange'."