Idle Chit-Chat (Part 2)
When the human mess officer dumped the Dextro sludge onto his plate, Garrus took one hard look at it.
Seriously? This is the best Turian food they can muster? I know they're MRE's, but they must be holding some kind've grudge…
Garrus shifted his questioning gaze up back at the mess officer, who only shrugged in response. Annoyed, Garrus shook his head and turned away, not thinking there was any point in protesting. From the moment he had turned, he found that he had almost run into…the Quarian, who was silent and giving him a side-eye from beneath her concealing helmet.
Garrus blinked a few times but returned this annoyed gaze. He cleared his throat.
"Try not to steal anything," Garrus mocked.
"I only steal from Turians, remember?" Tali retorted. "Bosh'tet."
Garrus was silent as Tali swiftly brushed him off and went by him to pick up her Dextro nutrient paste. He then darted his gaze to find the eyes of the human crew in the mess hall looking upon him from the side; clearly, he knew they mistrusted him, which made Garrus feel awkward: where was he supposed to sit? But then, alone in a corner of the hall, he found the Commander silently gazing upon some double squared object that opened up into near 45 degree angles.
Suppose mess hall is as good of a time as any…
Garrus walked over to said corner, and upon distance, the universal translator transcribed the visual words that were on the outside cover of what the Commander was looking at into Palaven-standard. Asari mind control technology sounds dangerous on the outside, but everyone is very thankful for all the good it does.
It was a title that read Meditations by… Marcus Aurelius? Garrus cleared his throat again, perhaps thinking he was trying to get the Commander's attention, to which he didn't budge.
"Commander…" Garrus greeted. He still needed to get on his good side, so maybe more idle chit-chat would do. A conversation over lunch would be the best chance. Even then, the Commander didn't take his eyes off the block.
"Vakarian." He acknowledged.
"Um…mind if I sit here?" Garrus shyly asked. "The other humans don't seem to like me."
Shepard only hummed once, which, Garrus guessed, was him accepting it? Slowly, due to uncertainty, the Turian pulled the chair out from the other corner of the table and sat down, placing everything out of his hands. Giving one more look at the dextro sludge, Garrus broke the ice.
"The dextro MRE's look…appetizing."
"It's all that funding allowed," Shepard said while turning a page over.
"Oh, SPECTRE paycheck hasn't come in yet?" Garrus joked; tried to joke like the Commander did.
"No."
"Oh…well…um," Garrus was struggling to find a better ice breaker, but just stopped himself. Guess neither of our senses of humor click. He took a spoon and shoveled out a full of the MRE, tasted it, and had to force it down from how Spirits cursed it tasted. He placed the spoon down again. Maybe talking to the Commander is less awkward than eating this garbage.
"So…an N7, huh?" Garrus said. Shepard still did not take his eye off Meditations. "What exactly is that supposed to be, anyway?"
"…It means I'm expensive to the taxpayer," Shepard replied, bluntly.
"Wait…really?"
"A joke," Shepard said. "Except not exactly."
"…I don't get it."
Shepard finally flicked his eye up to him, giving him the most disappointed glare, before closing his book and setting it on the table. "It means I have underwent specialized training. We're handled directly by J-SOC and get passed between different SOG's depending on the acutely formed STG, dealing exclusively in Tier 1 operations. The 'Tier 1' being the expensive part."
"I see. The Helmsman does tell me you're kind've a legend among special forces." Shepard interlaced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table.
"In varying senses of the term, yes."
"Meaning…?"
"Well…some things have happened that can be considered legendary, more often things are more legend than fact. Whether people know of me based on the fact or on the legend, I'm whatever anyone needs me to be. If we're talking about J-SOC or S.A.D., they want me based on the facts; if we're talking about drill sergeants reading bedtime stories to their marines, they want me based on the legend."
"Interesting," Garrus replied, though he was curious about that last part with the drill sergeants. On second thought, he probably didn't want to know…
"Hm."
Suddenly there was an awkward pause, with Shepard's gaze dazing off underneath the table. Garrus, feeling embarrassed and at a loss of the flow, peeked around and found the sailors at the other mess tables were often glancing over to their direction, then back at each other with school girl giggles.
Shepard was popular…but also rather infamous from everything he had heard, and this gave Garrus a good idea for a conversation thread.
"So…Torfan…"
Shepard snapped out of his daze and gave a blank stare at Garrus.
"What about it?"
Garrus looked down at the food on his plate and mixed it around with his spoon.
"Is that more fact or more legend?"
"Like I said, it depends who you ask."
"What would you say?"
Shepard folded his arms, shifted in his seat and crossed his legs over.
"Not my place to say…"
"Why is that?"
"Not exactly at liberty to disclose anything about it."
"Is it something that needs to be hidden?"
"Intelligence Director certainly thinks so."
"Huh. Guess the rumors are true then." Garrus took a spoonful of the shlock.
"Which ones? I can describe at least 7 different rumors about my involvement at Torfan, all of which contradict each other."
"That many, huh?" Garrus said. "I mean the whispers I've been hearing on board. The whole 'butcher' thing."
"You mean me executing prisoners of war?"
"Well…yeah, if you want to put it that bluntly."
"AND, some message boards on the extranet claim that the Pirates didn't actually surrender. Terra Firma claims I didn't execute anyone at all, while the Batarians claim it was a civilian center, and the Prime Minister believes it was a matter of non-combatants getting caught in the crossfire."
"Is that so?" Garrus took yet another spoonful.
"That's the thing about rumors, they're more elaborate the less evidence there is for it. More legend than fact, as I have said."
"You don't think non-disclosure warrants suspicion of…y'know… foul play?"
"Garrus, you're a Turian. You of all people should know that non-disclosure to the public is a form of counterintelligence. We're still technically at war with the Batarians; the last thing upper brass needs is the exact details of every operation being out in the open for not only civilians to see, but also your enemies."
"I suppose that makes sense…" Garrus took yet another spoonful.
"…but…the most I CAN say is that it was a successful mission."
"So what about Elysium then?" Shepard then just gave him a dead stare; Garrus picked up on this and thought he got the idea. "Can't disclose anything about that either?"
"No," the commander replied, plainly. "That we just don't talk about."
"….oh."
While maintaining this deterring stare from such a topic, Shepard slowly with one hand returned to his book, opening the page. For yet another second, he kept this stare on Garrus, but then withdrew his gaze back onto Emperor Marcus Aurelius' words. Garrus blinked, perceiving yet another failure of building rapport with a commander he was trying to get to trust him. He decided then that eating the dextro sludge was the least awkward thing, but in fact preferred it.
If I remember what Joker said correctly, the Commander was considered a hero for his actions in the Skyllian War; he even the highest honors for it. If he was Turian, that would be some point of pride, but here he actively avoids talking about it. What really happened on Elysium, Commander? Was what Garrus wanted to ask, but was still reeling from his defeat, so instead he gulped down the dextro sludge.
Shepard, briefly read the wisdom he had been repetitively cultivating into his head, but eventually shot his pupil back upon the Turian as he attempted to stomach what logistics was willing to spare. He couldn't help but feel pity; as Aurelius would want, he sought to rectify that.
"Are the MRE's not good enough?"
Garrus set down the spoon, simply staring on what was left on his plate. "They could be better, to say the least."
"Would you like me to get you better Turian food?"
Garrus looked up at him and blinked. "Would Alliance funding allow that?"
"No, but I can use my own credits."
"You really don't have to, Commander…"
"Expensive to the taxpayer, remember?" Shepard interjected. "And I don't have property taxes to pay and the Navy covers my healthcare."
Garrus blinked. "Think of it as morale," Shepard added.
"If you insist, Commander."
"Put together a shopping list, but keep it under 500 credits."
"I'll do it," Garrus was…pleased at this development.
"And add things both you AND Engineer Zorah can share."
Or not.