"You can try my rifle if you want," Shepard replied, not at all kindly, as she stepped away and began looking for the gun she wanted, "But I think you might change your mind."

She could probably stop being an asshole. But that would be a telling sign that she had been subsumed into the nest and replaced with a doppleganger. The gun in question was enormous, heavy enough that Shepard carried it leaning on one shoulder, and it only got longer when she unfolded it. A big, ugly-looking matte black sniper rifle.

She keyed up a target, took her time, and waited patiently for a break in Lexa's own shots. Then she fired. The sound, in the enclosed space, was fantastically loud. The target lost its head and a portion of one shoulder; Shepard frowned. Off-center. Garrus would've laughed at her, if he'd have seen it. She hit the button for a fresh target, lined up another shot, and continued in that vein for a while. It felt good to focus, to do just one thing with all her concentration, and let the rest fall away.

Until Lexa decided she wanted more attention, at least. But let that happen in its own time. For now, only this.