“Shepard?” Garrus peered around the corner. He softened some when his eyes landed on them once more.

In truth, he had almost thought it was a dream. After being shot by a gang member during a stand, he was sure he was dreaming of them actually being back. He thanked the Spirits that he wasn’t.

He lifted a hand, rubbing it along one of his bloodied mandibles lightly. The surgeries were faster and more advanced every year, but they still hurt quite a lot.

“They wouldn’t give me a mirror,” he said, visibly relaxing in the presence of a known friend. “How bad is it?”