Well isn't that just something else they have in common. Something else to discuss over those drinks. Given her own childhood, there would certainly be some sympathy. The kind that comes with a few choice words even.

But for now, their breath was best spent on the fight. On breathing in and out and keeping as calm as possible to face down the adversary that was right in front of them rather than the ones they couldn't do anything about. It was almost cathartic. Who needs therapy when you've got a gun, right? And another enemy going poof before her eyes.

"Uh oh. Do we start the betting now?" For what? For exactly who has the shittier gig of course. If Shepard ever stops, ever thinks to hard about here own, well, that's when she knows exactly how Elsa feels.