Kicking Reaper ass in the Traverse.
Chasing Leng/Cerberus through the galaxy.




   Slowly returning to her full height, she glanced over her shoulder at the older woman, raising her eyebrows. “Do you need a longer look, Commander?”

          “Y’can’t jus’ answer me like a normal human bein’, Williams?” she retorted before snorting softly, shaking her head. “Tho I won’t turn down a better look, t’ be honest.”



    “Oh, nothing really.” Ashley shrugged, making it a point to ‘drop’ the pad in her hand, followed by a soft oops muttered under her breath, leaning forward as she headed for the couch. Slowly, and near out of place for her, the top of her uniform rose up her back, leaving the top of lace to be seen just above the belt of her uniform.

          “I— okay.” She stretched a little then paused at the soft thump. Her brows rose as she glanced back over, her hand against the back of her head. “…What’re y’wearin’?” she hoped she wouldn’t have to add besides the obvious



"Decimals make things a bit more interesting." 

"Or irritating, whichever one I guess." Math was not her friend.



  “Skipper.” The grin that formed over the LC’s lips was an unmistakeable one to those who knew her well. Stepping in to the commander’s cabin, she made herself right at home, sitting on the couch with a data pad in her free hand. It was late, but she was ready to finish said report off, and go to bed soon enough in Shepard’s company.

          “Lieutenant Commander,” she returned lightly, a brow raising. Fingers ran through her hair as she eyed the younger a moment. “Somethin’ that y’needed?” she nodded slightly towards the datapad in the other’s grip.

     ”I’ve food if y’want any. Unless y’just want t’ stand there as if y’were a sentry or somethin’.” She didn’t care either way as she quietly continued taking the whetstone to her sword, the scraping filling the silence once she ended her talk.


i suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes it look like you’re an angry serial killer


                   Your life… 
                                 Is W o r t h More
                                                         Than Mine

Night Out



     She picked up the drinks list, scanning it over. “Well, if you ever do want someone to drink with someone you know where to find me. Although if I’m busy I’m sure Engineer Donnelley would enjoy the company,” Miranda shrugged her shoulders, hoping Shane would realize it was a joke. At least from the conversations she had overheard, he wasn’t a man anyone should be drinking with. “Do you know what you want?”


"While I like Ken jus’ fine, I’m not sure I’ll be sharin’ drinks with him anytime soon," she said mildly. "You’re not hard t’ find." Rubbing the back of her neck she shrugged. "My usual, most likely. What about you? Tiny umbrella kinda drink?" she was teasing, of course.