33 Apocalypse Ave., Thursday Morning

[not_in_the_book]

Waking up early, Ronan slipped out of bed -- being careful not to wake the other occupants -- slipped on some pyjama pants and a t-shirt, and opened and closed the door as quietly as possible as he left the room.

Coffee first, he thought, and then he might as well get started on breakfast.

[For the housemates! Or anyone else who wants to call/drop by/whatever.]

Comments

[not_a_whiner]

"They're trying to clear up the remains of the geth fleet right now," Kaidan said. "Batarian pirates..."

He trailed off. "Don't seem so interested in going after the real problem, though," he finally admitted.

[not_in_the_book]

Ronan nodded. "Politics?" he asked. "Or refusal to admit what the real problem is?"

... Which was probably also politics. Or fear. But probably politics.

[not_a_whiner]

Kaidan shot him a sideways look.

"We found conclusive evidence that there's a species-- if that's what you want to call them - called the Reapers waiting in dark space who could invade at any minute and kill-- everybody," he said. "Like they've been doing for thousands upon thousands of years. But nobody wants to accept that. Nobody but who was on the SSV Normandy with Sh-- with the Commander, anyway. I don't know why-- politics, psychology..."