*Crewmen Goldstein and Hawthorne lounge in the mess, laughing and chewing the fat as any ship's crew do. Goldstein leans further over the table, whispering to Hawthorne.*
Goldstein: You didn't hear it from me, but scuttlebutt is that the Commander has been making more and more trips down to Engineering to talk to that quarian.
*Hawthorne raises a brow*
Hawthorne: Why would he do that?
*Goldstein grins at Hawthorne, a knowing smile crossing his lips. Hawthorne stops for a moment.*
Hawthorne: Augh! That's disgusting!
*Goldstein shrugs.*
Goldstein: Just what I heard.
Hawthorne: I just don't get it. Everyone knows those damn bucket-heads are thieves. Why would Shepard even bother? Should have left her to die on that rock.
*At this, Commander Shepard suddenly turns the corner, coming up behind Hawthorne. Goldstein's eyes widen. Hawthorne doesn't notice.*
Hawthorne: Not that I can really blame him. I mean, who doesn't want to know what's under those suits? But ****ing one? Eugh. She's probably got teeth down there or something.
*Goldstein, absolute terror in his eyes, slowing gets up and walks out of the mess.*
Hawthorne: Hey! Were you going? *laughs* Was it something I said?
*After a moment, Hawthorne notices the large shadow over him. He slowly turns his neck around and up, meeting cold eyes. Fear grips him. He quickly and clumsily gets to his feet, putting up a weak salute.*
Hawthorne: Shepard...Er...Commander... I mean Captain.... Sir! I was just... uh... I didn't... You heard...
Shepard: Name and rank soldier.
*Hawthorne looks puzzled for a moment.*
Hawthorne: Uh... Sir... This vessel isn't really military... We don't have ra-
*Shepard violently grips Hawthorne's shirt, lifting him off the ground. Shepard's voice comes out cold and sharp as steel.*
Shepard: Name. And. Rank.
Hawthorne: Augh! I... I don't... Err... Ensign! Ensign Nathaniel Hawthorne, sir!
*Shepard slams Hawthorne down onto the mess table, breaking it to splinters. Hawthorne screams in shock and pain.*
Shepard: Listen very carefully, Ensign Hawthorne. If I hear another derragatory word about Tali'Zorah vas Normandy out of your mouth again, you will be enjoying your next shore leave on the nearest star. Am I clear?
Hawthorne: Yes! Yes, sir!
*Shepard releases his grip, walking out of the mess hall*
Shepard: Clean up your mess, ensign.