"Absolutely fucking not," Shepard tells him, missing not a breath to thought. He can stretch his grabby little fingers a bit farther, if he wants to lose them; there's a moment there, a reaction. Shepard can see it so clearly in her mind's eye. The way the glass would break, the blood, the way the shards would go into his face if she lunged, if she struck...

It passes, but just for a breath there, just a moment, her control had wavered. Shepard settles back onto her barstool, comfortably, and as best she can provides no outward sign of the near-miss. Had she still possession of her biotics, it would have meant something of a light-show, she was sure. Shameful.

"Nothing to see, anyways; doubt there's even a scar. It's all internal. What kind of research."