[There's more to the story, of course, but Jack doesn't seem inclined to offer any further detail. This seems like a neat place to leave off at, and he offers a shrug of his shoulders to indicate that's that.]
Wouldn't exactly call it vacation. More like retirement.
[Nothing. Or, he's had years to practice and perfect and irritatingly solid pokerface when he's not been surprised with a photo of his past. With the shrug, it's all over.
Still, it was more than she knew before.]
You never struck me as a cribbage and mobility vehicles kind of guy, but yeah—guess I could see it.
[A side-effect of a lifetime of war. The relative calm of Thisavrou—even if it was often not calm at all—had never sat well with him. He’s not looking forward to more of it on Avagi, though bringing the station back to a functioning capacity helps stave off the feeling that he’s settling down.
He still has work to do at home. That keeps him going.]
[There's a beat, and she leans against the wall, considering the words.
She'd discussed it before, of course—briefly, with Adrien, while he'd made short work of extracting a bullet out of her. It was an itch she couldn't scratch; the weird unsettling nature of staying in one place for so long. An eternal fist in the air, the infinite 'hold'.
It was maddening.]
You and me both.
[She'd grown up an Alliance brat, traveling from man-made satellite to cruiser with her parents as they shifted assignments—and that had been her closest brush with the so-called 'civilian lifestyle'. She'd enlisted on her 18th birthday, and never looked back—yet here she was, back to square one, stuck on a station, managing the cleaning rota. Better than doing nothing, better than being dead—but it wasn't the same. Wasn't... anything.]
[Jack recognizes the minute changes in her expression as the thought crosses her mind. It's easy enough to pinpoint because he feels it all the time, himself. That's the type of people they are, and it what has him the slightest bit worried about once he's going to do when the fight is over.
If the fight is ever over. If he survives it. Not exactly something to bring up out loud--he rarely talks about it with Ana. It's easier to take Shepard's deflection and use it to steer the conversation somewhere else entirely.]
You know. Settling in. Redecorating.
[He makes a vague gesture to the entrance area of the "apartment", if he can even call it that. The joke is that Jack's version of redecorating is not to redecorate at all.]
Look at that. [She fans a hand out at the decidedly undecorated living quarters, the bare walls shining like beacons, a humored twitch in her stoic expression.] And Ana said you weren't putting any effort into it. Guess I should've brought a housewarming gift.
[And Jack will mostly let her do whatever she likes. He's used to military barracks and sparse safe houses--he doesn't need his living space to be comfortable by any stretch of the imagination.]
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Still keeping her tone light, she watches his expression as she hazards:]
And now you're both practically on vacation, what without any extra assassination worries.
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[There's more to the story, of course, but Jack doesn't seem inclined to offer any further detail. This seems like a neat place to leave off at, and he offers a shrug of his shoulders to indicate that's that.]
Wouldn't exactly call it vacation. More like retirement.
[But still with assassination worries.]
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Still, it was more than she knew before.]
You never struck me as a cribbage and mobility vehicles kind of guy, but yeah—guess I could see it.
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[A side-effect of a lifetime of war. The relative calm of Thisavrou—even if it was often not calm at all—had never sat well with him. He’s not looking forward to more of it on Avagi, though bringing the station back to a functioning capacity helps stave off the feeling that he’s settling down.
He still has work to do at home. That keeps him going.]
Never have.
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She'd discussed it before, of course—briefly, with Adrien, while he'd made short work of extracting a bullet out of her. It was an itch she couldn't scratch; the weird unsettling nature of staying in one place for so long. An eternal fist in the air, the infinite 'hold'.
It was maddening.]
You and me both.
[She'd grown up an Alliance brat, traveling from man-made satellite to cruiser with her parents as they shifted assignments—and that had been her closest brush with the so-called 'civilian lifestyle'. She'd enlisted on her 18th birthday, and never looked back—yet here she was, back to square one, stuck on a station, managing the cleaning rota. Better than doing nothing, better than being dead—but it wasn't the same. Wasn't... anything.]
What have you been up to?
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If the fight is ever over. If he survives it. Not exactly something to bring up out loud--he rarely talks about it with Ana. It's easier to take Shepard's deflection and use it to steer the conversation somewhere else entirely.]
You know. Settling in. Redecorating.
[He makes a vague gesture to the entrance area of the "apartment", if he can even call it that. The joke is that Jack's version of redecorating is not to redecorate at all.]
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[And Jack will mostly let her do whatever she likes. He's used to military barracks and sparse safe houses--he doesn't need his living space to be comfortable by any stretch of the imagination.]
Generous of you, but unnecessary.
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Plant, or art? I'll let you choose that much.
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[Really. It doesn't. Please no.]
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I'll see if I can't get a little something with flowers.
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Well, I don't want to keep you.
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Fair enough. Lots to do.
[beat;]
Favorite color?
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Blue.
[It might be his. It might be Ana's. Who knows, really?]