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"No."
"What do you mean, 'no'?"Garrus looks over to Shepard. She doesn't even lift her eyes, just keeps scratching a particularly stubborn piece of caked blood and who-knows-what-else on her chest piece with intensity that almost makes it like she'd be digging for gold. Garrus has his sniper rifle in his talons, currently in the middle of disassembling it. Normandy’s crew is big enough for them to have a person who’s been hired specifically to take care of their guns and armor, but some habits died hard. With his army background and Shepard's long career with the Alliance there were some things even upping in rank couldn't strip away.“Few people even know my name. You already know my name. That doesn't mean you need to use it.”
“No?”
"No.""You call me by my first name."
"Everybody calls you by your first name."
"It’s starting to sound like a principle."
Shepard glares at Garrus, the movement of her hands stopping. If he knew how to snort, he would, because Shepard’s stubbornness is reaching a level that would definitely warrant one of those.“I think we both know intimacy goes well beyond what names someone chooses to use for their…” Shepard stops her rant short, suddenly averting her eyes back to the chest piece that probably isn't too far away from being the most polished piece of armor in the whole damn galaxy. She's digging dirt from the edges of her N7-sign.Garrus waits, his amusement building by the second. He’s sure he can see the thermal colors on his visor changing – specifically around the area of Shepard’s face. And just before Garrus gets to snark back, she finally finishes her sentence.“... Person.”“Their person?" Garrus pulls the last piece of his rifle loose and sets it on the table, ready to leave it to dry before coming to clean it later. He circles the table and comes to stand beside Shepard, lifting his arms to a knot over his chest. His whole being screams smugness, from the cant of his hips to the tilt of his head that just seems to lift his cocksureness to a whole other level."Don't believe I've ever been in the presence of someone as romantic as you, Commander.”Shepard gives him a glare.
"I'd watch myself if I were you - my rifle is still in tact."Garrus' mandibles pull back in an expression Shepard knows to be a smile. His face plates are relaxed and the blue eyes he's looking at her with seem to be doing their best to make her breath hitch. She keeps the eye contact, a wave of spite fueling her to not give in even when the tilt of his head suggests something she definitely can’t have happen in the armory of her ship.“Go make yourself useful, Vakarian. “As Garrus starts to back out of the armory, he bows, a pure mockery of Earth’s old ways and one of those so called "classic" (he has a few choice words about that term) videos the whole crew’s enjoyed on shore-leave. Shepard shakes her head, holding back an eye roll, as she turns her attention back to her armor.He could swear it on his favorite helmet that he saw her grin before he made it all the way out the door.