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Predictable

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Jack almost forgot how it felt to be in love. Constantly shrouded by the bad, it felt nice to smother those feelings and embrace the positives.

A bit, anyway.

Even then, when action had died down post-suicide mission, the crew scrambled around the Normandy to finish repairs and get ready for some well-deserved shore leave. If Jack's thoughts were right, they were heading to Omega. Seems only right after all, since hours prior they had just made the Omega-4 Relay their bitch. Among other things. Her lips curled into a smile. Shepard had told the crew about her final conversation with the Illusive Man, and how his new star pupil basically told him to fuck off and stay out of her way. That's my girl.

Yet, as the crew had scattered their own ways on the rock--most heading to Afterlife--Jack found herself staying in the port area, overlooking the shrouded city. Now was as good as any a time to party and celebrate the fact that they basically did the impossible, but it was another feat that she pondered. The woman that has bossed her around in missions and bugged her in the moments in between had suddenly become one of the most important people in her life. No, she was the most important; it's not like she had a variety to choose from.

God, she hated being predictable.

"Jack!" she turned in the direction of the voice and saw the woman in question with Garrus, heading to Afterlife. "You coming?" she continued with a smirk.
Admiring the way Myra's purple strands stuck to her face from a sloppy bun, she couldn't help the giddy smile that appeared out of nowhere. "You bet your sweet ass I am."