A quick glance at the Normandy's systems showed her the elevator was in use, headed for the loft. In another minute, she'd be able to call it back down and... and head up there herself. And then, oh Keelah, what was she going to do? She could die.
Gripping the console steadied her. No, she could do this. She wanted to. Shepard wanted to. Wanted her! And she, ancestors preserve her, wanted him, thin fingers, funny legs and feet, wide, rough face, terrible dancing and everything else. His skin looked so soft, but at the same time he was so solid. The memory of his thick arms, circling round her and pulling her tight against him seemed to lift her up even now. Straightening her posture and pushing her shoulders back, she released her death grip on the edge of the console. The elevator should be available by now.
The trip gave her just enough time to wash the last taste of the herbs from her mouth and reassure herself that she and her suit were fresh. Shepard's door wasn't sealed, a final sign that he was... hoping for her.
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Ready
Modifié par NuclearBuddha, 08 août 2010 - 07:53 .