Snippet
It’s time for a SNIPPET... WEDNESDAY because I missed WIP Weekend and... I already typed this out before I realised WIP WEDNESDAY alliterates and everyone knows the delete key is for cowards
Anyways here we go, this little bit is from Chapter Seven of TBMS:WRE which is my long-ass #Shoker fic that I never shut the fuck up about. You can find it on Ao3 or FFnet but Ao3 has better formatting. :
Was the hallway here always this long? Shepard wondered, a little out of breath on the way up to the helm. She paused for a moment, making a point of looking at one of the displays. As she drew closer, she could see the familiar bill of Joker’s cap peek out from the chair. She came to a stop just behind the cockpit’s threshold and cleared her throat. “Sorry I’m late for my post-mission visit.”
“Commander, hey,” he answered, turning the chair to face her. She saw his eyes flick to the crutches, then the cast, then back up. “So, EDI and I were discussing the finer points of what makes a good movie,” he said. “See, I think budget and box office stuff is kinda irrelevant, but EDI insists it’s about metrics and correlation. Wanna weigh in?”
“Hmm,” she thought aloud. “I guess it depends on your definition of what a good film is. If you’re there for the art, then you’re right. How much money it made doesn’t matter. But if you’re judging how good they are as money-making ventures, then statistics are all that matters.”
“Trust you to be all diplomatic about it. Come on, pick a side! Where’s your passion for the arts?” He lifted his hands in feigned offense. She laughed. It felt good to talk about something that didn’t matter, for a change.
“Some of my favourites are box office bombs,” she said, and leaned heavily on one crutch, shifting how she was holding her injured leg.
“Yeah? You’ll have to tell me about them, sometime.”
“I would right now, but as it is, I just came up to say hello. It’s likely I’ll be resting up until right before we get to Tarith, and I wanted to see you first.” She watched him fidget with his cap, looking at a monitor off to his side.
“Yeah, Tarith. What a lovely little ball of rock that looks to be. Why aren’t any of these assignments ever on gorgeous sunny planets with white sand and beaches?” he lamented. “You know, somewhere you could land and go blow stuff up, and I could go drink something blue with a… space lemon in it, or something.”
“Some of them are on worlds like that. But you’d never set foot off this ship unless you were dragged off,” she said with a smirk and a sideways glance.
“Yeah, well, I could be convinced you know.” He shrugged.
“Tell you what, next time we’re orbiting some place with a decent surface temperature and an atmosphere not made up of methane, I’ll give us all a day’s shore leave and you can go live it up.”
“You, ah, you’re planning on going to the Citadel at some point to speak with Anderson again, aren’t you?” he asked, glancing off to his left. Shepard blinked with mild surprise.
“I’d put that on the back-burner some time ago,” she admitted, following his gaze out the window. “I do have some things to discuss with him, and I imagine the Council would love nothing more than to blow some hot air in my face about something.”
“Yeah, their favourite thing seems to be wasting your time. Well, I was thinking. When you take care of your business there, you wanna go someplace?” he asked. Shepard turned away from the stars and focused on him, noticing his fingers drumming on the armrest. “You know, for dinner or something? Nothing fancy. In fact, the less fancy the better.”
“I’d really enjoy that,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “And who knows… Maybe the Council will have good news for me this time.”
“Wow, you said that whole thing with a straight face. Nice job. So… Serpent Nebula? Or am I staying on course?”
“I think it’s about time. Give this a chance to patch up. Serpent Nebula.”
“Aye aye, Commander,” he replied as he turned to the navigational array, grinning.