Garrus sat at the canteen table, apparently tomorrow was Valentines day or something. A human holiday were they give gifts and cards to their mate, or ideal mate. He sighed heavily. Tomorrow he was expected to give something to his mate. Shepard. He groaned rubbing his head in his talons. He was no good at this gushy romantic stuff. She was a squealy type of woman, the sort that saw a baby pyjack and wanted to hug it. She expected him to do something lovely and wonderful, so much so that she added the date to his omni-tool calender and surrounded it in hearts and flowers.

He was screwed.

He decided to look for inspiration on the web, he opened his omni-tool ignoring the garish hot pink hearts that were counting down the hours until it was Valentines day, another little app Shepard insisted was necessary. After about half an hour of scrolling through various sites he declared the whole endeavour useless. Then something caught his eye.

''Poetry is often used to express one's love to their partner, it is often written from the heart and delivered in an envelope unmarked.''

Hhmmm. He wasn't very good at communicating his feelings but maybe if he wrote them down it would be easier? He moved into the main battery and pulled out a sheet of paper from the storage area. He only knew how to write in Turian but her omni-tool would translate it. He thought carefully and began to write:

The concept of beauty:

.

Is it they way your hair dances over you when you sleep?

Is it the way your eyes glitter with life in the light?

Maybe it's how soft your flawless skin feels.

Maybe it's how your breathing sounds like the most beautiful lullaby.

What if it's the way you dance with a gun.

What if it's the way you smile at me.

.

This is your beauty, but this is your love.

.

It's the way you opened your heart.

The way you cared for me like no-one else.

The fact that no matter what I do you're behind me.

You hold me up when I stumble.

I thank the spirits that I met you.

.

I will never forgive you for tying your heart to mine.

.

.

.

But I will always have your six.

.

.

Garrus.

He sighed heavily, so he was no Shakespeare (that was the human poet right?) But he hoped it would be enough, he made an envelope and pushed the paper inside. He only hoped that she could see how much he loved her. She was the other half of his spirit.

Suddenly he didn't want to wait till tomorrow and he grabbed the letter and wandered up to his lover's loft.

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