"I can't promise it'll be good," she warns, moving to the table where she sets both cups down. She's matter of fact about pulling the other chair around to his, the legs squealing against the floor as she drags it over. "But I expect you to lie to me if it's not."

Sitting down, knee bumping companionably against his thigh, Shepard pulls one of the mugs to her. She waits to drink though, instead breathing in the steam twisting off the surface.