After Horizon

Shepard’s given the crew a day of shore leave while we resupply, so the ship is mostly empty.  I’m in the mess, filling a mug with hot water when Joker comes in, carrying a six-pack of what looks like some alcoholic beverage of human manufacture. 

“Hey, Garrus.  Wanna beer?  Craft-brewed, ice-cold.”

“Thanks.  I don’t feel like swelling up and dying today,” I say.

 “Oh yeah.  My bad,” Joker says.  “I keep forgetting about that.” 

Joker opens a bottle of his beer against the edge of the table and gulps half of it noisily.  He sits down and motions to the chair next to him, inviting me to join him. 

I sit warily, and sip my own drink.   

“Whatcha drinkin’?” he asks. 

“You would probably call it a kind of tea,” I say.  “It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Joker nods.  “Well, you could use some relaxing.”

There’s silence for a while.

“Damn, this is a scintillating conversation,” Joker says.

“I’m sorry, Joker.  I know I haven’t been good company lately.  It’s just… I’ve had some things on my mind.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says.  “Avenging your fallen comrades.  Very dramatic, tragic hero stuff, I approve.  But you took care of that problem weeks ago, with a little help from your best bud.  So what’s eating you now?” 

I shake my head.  “I can’t really talk about it with you, Joker.  No offense,” I say.

“None taken,” Joker says, easily.  “I know how it is.  You need to have a talk with Shepard.”

 “I can’t—” I begin to say.  Joker cuts me off.

“Trust me on this, Garrus.  You’ll feel better.”  He pulls a bottle of beer from the carton and puts it down in front of me.  “Here.  Take this.”

“What?  I can’t drink that.”

“Idiot.  Bring it to him.  He likes beer, OK?”  Joker shakes his head.  “C’mon, Garrus.  I just gave you an excuse.  Now quit stalling, and go talk to him.”