(Can’t draw but dang I’d like it to be a Thing so here’s a couple more for fun and milking it for what it’s worth)
-2-
There may be some treasure or relic of vital importance under all that rubble, but half the satisfaction locating it rests in the fact that there's only one shovel and, upon deciding the matter in a mature fashion, Garrus isn't the one holding it.
He stands watch, gazing with satisfaction over the desert while Shepard mumbles about wind and takes up the spade. “Two kinds of people in the world, Shepard,” Garrus calls down, tone equal measures teasing and morale-boosting, “those who manage to actually shoot the bottles and those who dig—you dig.”
-3-
The morning after they get around to buying those dances for Grunt’s coming-of-age, Garrus wakes in a gloomy cramped space with a vicious hangover—and something warm and feathery nesting on his head.
“What is that,” he hisses and Shepard laughs beside him in the dark, explaining about chickens and chicken coops along with a more hypothetical-sounding tale that ends with the heroes evicted by the fine ladies of the House of Blue Delight and asked never to return under threat of reopening charges of mild property damage.
Which all sounds vaguely familiar, though before Garrus musters a groggy sympathy for the birthday boy Shepard adds, “At least Grunt behaved himself—I don’t think this coop would have been big enough for three of us.”
MORE Mass Effect, Western AU
-2-
There may be some treasure or relic of vital importance under all that rubble, but half the satisfaction locating it rests in the fact that there's only one shovel and, upon deciding the matter in a mature fashion, Garrus isn't the one holding it.
He stands watch, gazing with satisfaction over the desert while Shepard mumbles about wind and takes up the spade. “Two kinds of people in the world, Shepard,” Garrus calls down, tone equal measures teasing and morale-boosting, “those who manage to actually shoot the bottles and those who dig—you dig.”
-3-
The morning after they get around to buying those dances for Grunt’s coming-of-age, Garrus wakes in a gloomy cramped space with a vicious hangover—and something warm and feathery nesting on his head.
“What is that,” he hisses and Shepard laughs beside him in the dark, explaining about chickens and chicken coops along with a more hypothetical-sounding tale that ends with the heroes evicted by the fine ladies of the House of Blue Delight and asked never to return under threat of reopening charges of mild property damage.
Which all sounds vaguely familiar, though before Garrus musters a groggy sympathy for the birthday boy Shepard adds, “At least Grunt behaved himself—I don’t think this coop would have been big enough for three of us.”