The doors open to Deck 5. Walking out, Shepard scans the armory and shuttle bay, and finds that Jacob isn't there. She had questions for him. Mostly along the lines of 'have you ended Goto's dry spell yet' but with a bit more tact. She's seen what the little pixie thief ninja does when she's angry and doesn't want that on her ship. But, Jacob is not present.
There is, however, a gorilla doing chin ups on a pull up bar by crates. No, wait. That's one of her crew.
Hands folded behind her, she walks towards the crates. She tries to practice walking, swaying slightly. Her foot slips and she almost trips. Rolling her eyes, she walks over to the practicing, overly large crew member.
She clears her throat. He looks over, freezes, and drops into a crouch. Turning to her, he salutes and clicks his heels, eyeing his discarded uniform jacket and shrugging up his shoulders to try to hide the tattoos on his neck.
"Commander Shepard, sir! Lieutenant James Vega reporting, sir!"
She smirks. "At ease, Lieutenant. And it's 'Ma'am.' Or 'Shepard.'"
He nods. "Yes, Ma'am." He relaxes the salute. "Sorry, Lieutenant Taylor's up in CiC if ya needed him. I just finished setting up the armory if you wanted to inspect it," he gestures behind him, "And we're still unloading parts for when we pick up the Normandy's Hammerhead."
"Hammerhead?"
"New combat craft," he says, and shrugs, "Hovercraft. Guided missile launcher." Scratching the back of his head, and rolls his eyes. "Armor like coffee paper, though. Would'a preferred a Mako, but no one's good at usin' the damn the mass effect controls on those and they keep bouncin'em off everything."
Jane cocks an eyebrow. Craning his neck, the lieutenant goes silent as he drums his fingers on his temple. "Right. Saw the vid. Sorry, Ma'am. Shepard. Sir."
Vega coughs. "So, anyway, Ma'am," he says, "Anything I can help you with?"
She smirks, smacking him on the arm. "Not much. We still have a bit before launch, so I'm getting to know the crew." She takes a look, turning from him to the mounted Shuttle and the crates. "So what's your story, Lieutenant?"
He shrugs. "Nothing special. I'm just one've those kids who joined up 'cause his home sucked. Deadbeat dad, not much to do at home. Joined the fleet 'cause I wanted to save the galaxy." He rubs his arm where she smacked him. "Word of an opening on the Normandy showed up, and I jumped for it."
She nods, pacing the cargo bay. "So," she says, spinning on her heel, "What've you been brought up to date on?"
"I know you if you punch me, they'll need a mop." He shrugs, counting off his fingers. "According to what I overheard from T'Soni, you can breathe methane. According t'Chakwas, you can run like a leopard. An' according to Joker, you can crap dark matter."
Jane smirks. "I wouldn't say a leopard. More like a cheetah."
Vega whistles. "Anyway, was lookin' for a sparring partner. Taylor said he'd oblige me, but he's probably tradin' stories with Vakarian by now." He reaches behind the crates. "An' since you can probably punch me across a dreadnought, I was wondering if you'd oblige me with something, Ma'am?"
He pulls out two long bamboo staves, each one as tall as him. Dropping one, he kicks it before it hits the floor and sends it flying into Shepard's outstretched hand. She twirls it in one hand, grinning. "Knowing how my powers work, I'm probably going to be an expert before I leave this floor."
He shrugs, twirling the staff and stretching it across his broad shoulders. "I figure 'teach Commander Shepard how to staff fight' looks good on my N7 application." A grin parts his features. "So, Ma'am. I know you can shoot and I know you can kick ass. But can you dance?"
