After a one-week trip away became an unexpected two, Garrus wasted no time heading home. He brushed off attempts at conversation, ignored anything that seemed likely to delay him further, and settled into his own waiting skycar to make the journey.
He drove too fast. Shepard would’ve been proud.
At home, before he could reach for the panel beside the door himself, the door slid open, revealing a small pink hanar trailing tentacles, with red curls escaping the hole in the fabric showing her bright-eyed face. “Dad!” Rose yelled, as though he were still half a galaxy away and not standing directly in front of her. She flung her arms wide, which had the strange effect of making all her hanar-tentacles wobble convincingly. “I’m Blasto!”
Right. Strange human holiday. Costumes. Something to do with candy.
(Not, he thought, that Rose required a reason to dress up. It hadn’t even seemed strange that his daughter’d greeted him dressed as a hanar toting a plastic gun.)