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IND. COMMANDER SHEPARD.
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          you’ll find her in the hospital’s gift shop,   gathering every bit of blasto memorabilia there is only to shove it into the bags she’s fastened to the sides of her wheelchair.   this is most probably the worst time she’s misused her spectre status:   she won’t rest until every bit of it is destroyed.   with the reapers defeated,   this is her NEW GOAL in life.   she thinks she’ll throw it out the airlock.   it sounds like a good plan.

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❝     —————     uh - huh.     ❞     he  hums,   splits  into  a  broad  grin  as  he  cups  her  face     —————     leaves  patient  but  playful  kisses  along  the  plane  of  her  cheek.     ❝     i’m  not  going  to  be  the  one  to  tell  the  council  that  we’re  going  off-book.     
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                a displeased grumble sounds from noma’s lips as his hands cup her face,   though she finds her shoulders instantly slumping in defeat.   it’s been a bad day  (  when has it not,   these days?  )  but she hadn’t realised how much she needed a gentle touch.     i’ll do it.   fuck the council.   i’ll shove blasto memorabilia up their asses,   and i’ll make sure i save the biggest one for sparatus.   

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              ‘   no sleep until every item of blasto memorabilia is destroyed.   fuck the reapers,   destroy blasto.      she’s had a little too much to drink and definitely not enough sleep,   but fuck,   her hatred for that fucking hanar still lives.

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'hope you didn't have too much fun without me, bucko.' ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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❝     —————     noma?     ❞     a  hard  exhalation  through  an  open  mouth,   and  he  narrows  his  gaze     —————     as  though  she  were  little  more  than  some  feverish  trick  of  the  mind,   after  all  this  time.   she  smirks!   at  him  in  that  familiar  way  of  hers     (     never  pulls  her  lips  back,   never  bares  her  teeth     )     and  her  arms  are  folded  ‘cross  her  chest  in  some  air  of  faux  impatience     —————     as  though  he  were  the  one  who’d  been  gone  on  a  celebratory  mandated  post-war  excursion  ‘cross  the  galaxy!     

❝     —————     noma!     ❞     he  breaks  into  a  broad  grin,   swiftly  breaches  the  distance  between  them  and  circles  his  arms  ‘round  her  waist     —————     lifts  her  briefly  from  the  ground  and  tucks  into  the  hollow  of  her  shoulder,   presses  sweet  kisses  to  her  cheek.     ❝     —————     mm,   i’m  so  glad  that  you’re  back!   why  didn’t  you  tell  me  that  you  were  coming?!   i  would  have  had  something  ready  for  you    ❞

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                   ‘   so i might drop out of college,   ’   noma announces,   clearing her throat,   forearms resting against her thighs as she leans forwards,   seated.   ‘   it’s...   not for me.   might come here full time for a year in the hope that i get claimed before i join the marines.   if not,   well...   i dunno what i can do,   honestly.   maybe i’m a disappointment to both my parents.   ha.   ’   she huffs,   tilting the bottle in her hands as she takes another drink.   good to know people at camp still have their ways of sneaking in the FORBIDDEN FRUIT,    anyway.

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