shellphones | text; un: archangel

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text; un: archangel | Free Snacks

Type: Text
Sender ID: thearchangel (Garrus Vakarian)
To: Everyone
Subject: House cleaning with your neighborhood alien.
Warnings: None

Does anyone want any of this?

[Attached to the message is an image of many, many boxes of Pocky. There's so much. And it's all untouched.]

Before anyone asks "what kind is there", there's all kinds. No, I'm not selling it, just come take it away. Yes, I know there's a lot. No, I'm not going to eat it. It's not opened, either. I just don't want it.

[Someone finally went back to his hole in the wall apartment after... a long time, and decided to finally clean house.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What is that?

[Sir, you can't just post strange looking sticks on the network and expect everybody to get it.]

[Sorry, Jill. He assumed it was a Human Thing(tm) all over-]

It's... a cookie with chocolate, or other kinds of flavor on it. That's how it was described to me.

[Wow, Garrus! So you think all humans eat the same things? How dare!]

I see. Never seen any that look quite like that before.

But do you not like cookies?

[Surely, he'd want to keep a few boxes of treats for himself!]

Me either. Before a bunch of them wound up at my place.

[The little text of: Garrus Is Typing... pops up. Stops. Pops up again. Repeat several times before the answer comes over.]

No. If you want them, they're yours.

How do so many cookies just end up at your place? Someone had to bring them.

[That sentence is far too short for how long it took Garrus to type and there's just that bit of women's intuition niggling at the back of Jill's head that's too loud for her to ignore.]

Is something the matter?

Nothing's the matter, I just don't want them. Someone brought them, yeah, but that doesn't matter. Do you want them or not?

I don't know.

[Something tells her this isn't about cookies.]

You seem a little... [snippy, short, rude?] ...brusque.

Edited 2025-11-27 03:20 (UTC)

I'm just tired. Haven't been at the apartment in a while - working.

[That bit, at least, is true. He's been out doing Manta quests and bounties. Not going home.]

[But it's fine.]

You should rest. I'm sure those things will not be going anywhere anytime soon.

[Now she's Concerned. Capital C. If he thinks such a reasoning is enough to get her out of his proverbial hair, it is not. Too bad for him?]

Have you eaten yet?

I'm fine.

[He shouldn't have said anything. This was just supposed to be a quick dump of unwanted food.]

Jill, you don't need to worry, I can look after myself.

[Haha. Sure.]

That does not answer my question.

[Sir, you are reminding her of a certain messy haired man who says everything is fine when it absolutely isn't and that means Jill is going to push more and more to get to the root of this problem.]

Where are you?

I'm out handling some bounties. I'll be gone a while.

Again that does not answer my question.

Do I need to rephrase it?

[Because she will, repeatedly, until she gets a direct answer from Garrus. For a friend, her patience will never run out.]

Which question? Where am I - out. Leaving town to hunt them down. Have I eaten - sure. How's that?

Where exactly are you? I would like a location of where you will be longer than a half bell

Why? I have a job to do. I'm going out to the farmlands.

Why? Because I consider you a friend and an ally. And I find myself concerned about friends and allies. First about their constitution and secondly of their safety.

[Not that she thinks Garrus is a danger to himself, but she also knows sometimes emotions can explode if one doesn't find a proper outlet for them. Upset people take harder risks and Jill isn't too convinced that hunting in a bad mood would guarantee Garrus (or worse, innocent bystanders) would remain in one piece.]

I can tell something is not quite right with you and I'm not about to give up and turn my back on you. So you can make this a lot simpler for all by just answering my questions and letting me show you some compassion in your time of need or realizing I have no intention of giving up.

Damn, you're worse than Tali...

[That's all he says for a long, long time. It honesty looks like that's all he's going to say.]

[Maybe it's best to just. Accept this and then keep going. Not drag it out. The sooner she gets it out of her system the sooner he can be on his way. Granted, that way is self-destructive but oh well.]

I'm fine. But if it makes you feel better... Fine. I'll wait to head out.

[He'll send her the location of an inn. In Eltrut.]

I don't know who Tali is, but if she cares about you as much as I do, I will take that as a compliment.

[They certainly should meet, those two women. Perhaps together they can be even bigger pains in Garrus' rear end than they are separately.

She waits for him to say something else and as the minutes tick by without a reply, Jill is half-convinced she can sent Torgal to hunt him down. But finally, finally, something comes through. Seems half a life—the part where he insists he's fine—and part truth—the part where he actually gives her a place to head off to.]

Thank you.

[She won't push more. Not until she reaches the inn in person. And when she shows up, Jill is not empty-handed. There's a basket nestled in the crook of her right elbow and it's a safe bet to anyone who turned their attention on the silver-haired woman who makes her way through the entrance door that there are better food options in there than this run down, sticky-floored inn offers. Her shoulders are set, a straight line of determination, as she looks around the room for the Turian who would usually stick out of a crowd any day of the week.]

[True to his word, he's waiting there, in the dingy little hole. In a corner, closest to the fireplace, fully wearing his armor, his rifle neatly stowed on his back. There's no drink in front of him, nothing. But it means there's space to drum his fingers on the tabletop.]

[He doesn't want to be here, waiting. He wants to be out, moving, working. Keeping busy so he doesn't have to think about... everything. That's for the best, isn't it?]

[He's easy to spot, even if he wasn't in such a prominent place. People are giving him a wide berth. It must be the sadsack aura he's radiating.]

[As much as a noble lady as Jill presents to be, she's been in some real dirt encrusted places. This inn would hit the middle of the list, so there's no hesitation in her step as she makes Garrus out in the dim candlelight. It's clear he doesn't want to be here, clear he doesn't want her here, clear he doesn't want her here with him, but too bad for him. Jill does not plan on leaving this man, Turian or not, to his own devices. Not until she knows what's got him tearing himself apart on the inside.

No drink. No mug full of half-drunk, lukewarm ale in front of him means Jill can't use it to judge how long Garrus has been sitting here. In the end, it doesn't matter. It just means there's more room for her to plop the basket on the table with purpose and remain standing as she unravels the blanket that covers it.

There's not much of a ceremony when she takes a wrapped sandwich out and places it in front of Garrus before sitting down across from him. He may claim he's already eaten, but she's deal with enough depressed men in her life to know not to take what they say at face value.]

It's ham. Fresh from the butcher.

[He exhales, slowly. It flares his mandible out off his jaw, before they click back into place. In the buzz of ambient conversation, it's probably not audible. He shifts in his seat, either because he's uncomfortable under her scrutiny or because there isn't a chair in this world that he doesn't have to hunch into.]

You didn't need to do this.

[No, he doesn't want her here. He doesn't want to have whatever conversation she's trying to have. He'd much rather compartmentalize and move on. Go to work. Just do... anything. Something besides sitting here talking when talking never helps a damned thing.]

I'm not - I'm capable of looking after myself.

[The flexing of his mandible, something strange and still odd to her with it being non-human, should intimidate her, but Jill has faced bigger foes than one sad alien. While she doesn't think anything between her and Garrus would come to blow, she still doesn't want him going out there to hunt while distracted by his problems.]

I wanted to.

[Jill thought she made that clear from the get go, but apparently Garrus will only learn via repetition. So be it. She's here because she cares, because she will go to the farthest ends of the world for the people she cares for. Garrus just so happens to find himself snagged in that trap.]

I never said you weren't. I merely just asked if you ate.

[Probably seems the same to him, but for her, the questions are as far apart as humans and Turians for Jill. When was the last time he ate? Was it something substantial or if he at the juncture in his life where he is taking in the barest of notion because the sadness is taking over and there's no point?]

If you're not fond of ham, there is chicken too. Turkey was sold out and I didn't want to chance you not liking fish by buying it.

[Now she's seemingly talking just to talk, but Jill has a method to her madness. She told him he is a friend, someone she considers everything about even down to sandwich fixings. But mostly, she knows depression and this? This is that. And if her own tussles with emotions that one would rather swallow and ignore has told her is that doing so will only cause not only some bad indigestion but a regurgitation of them when it pushing them down gets to be too much.

Her damaged apartment will agree.]

[Garrus is a smart man, but he's also so very dumb. Especially in non-military social situations. Like this one. Like every time he's spiraled before. When he just wants to walk away and not... try to do this. Try to discuss the problem. It never helps a damned thing. People pushing doesn't help either.]

Isn't that the same thing?

[He'd probably just shoved the nearest edible thing into his mouth and kept going. It made sense! He had a job to do. He had somewhere to be. Something to keep himself occupied. He shrugs a shoulder, dragging a hand down his face.]

I don't have a preference. It's all new to me. Is that everything you wanted to do?

[He knows he's brushing her off, and, logically, that she's trying to be helpful, but he doesn't want help like this. There is nothing anyone can do to fix this. He can't even blame someone, because it's no one's fault, either. Somehow, that just makes it ten times worse.]

It is not. One is an assumption on the whole. The other is a concern.

[She speaks in a calm, even tone, not at all offended by how he's continuing to push her away. He would not be the first person she's dealt with who would resort to punching and stabbing and shooting their pain away. He won't be the last.]

No.

[Again, even toned. If anything, the way Jill answers says she has a lot more she wants to do and they'll be here for a while so he better settle in and grab a sandwich. Though she'll have mercy on him and push the ham one closer towards him.

He may not want the help, but by the Founder, it's the help he's going to get.]

I will advise you that I tend to be stubborn. I doubt you'll outlast me on this.

[So give up now Garrus. Tell her what's wrong and this whole meeting will end much faster and perhaps on a happier note.]

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