Captain David Anderson paused outside the office door. He checked the name-plate one more time to ensure he was in the right place. She'd never let him hear the end of it if he wasn't. As he hit the door's chime, he knew that this excursion of his was a long shot, but the admiralty board had put him in charge of the Normandy's recruitment, and he was determined to take whatever odds he needed to for a shot at getting the best for his new command. He waited in the hall for almost half a minute before the door slid open with a sharp hiss.

The office beyond was dark, the lights presumably at their lowest setting. It was altogether very spartan as far as furnishing went. Very...regulation. Though Anderson did notice a perfectly-kept cot in the corner of the room. Evidently he wasn't the only one married to work. The room's brightest source of light was a datapad being held by the sole other occupant. She was dressed smartly: a neatly-pressed labsuit and impeccably trimmed and combed sharp red hair. Bright green eyes stared up at him over half-moon spectacles. She was chewing her lip. That was a tell, Anderson was sure. What exactly it was a tell of he couldn't hazard a guess.

"Apologies, Captain Anderson," the woman spoke in that curious accent of hers (or lack thereof) which belied her spacer origins, "I would've answered sooner, but I rather enjoy the noise the doorbell makes." The way her lips quirked when she spoke made Anderson wonder whether or not she was joking. "Do come in."

Anderson took a few steps into the room and the door closed behind him, cutting the exterior hallway light from the office. He took one of the two spare seats across the desk from his potential recruit. "This isn't a formal visit. You can call me David."

"Only if you can remember my first name, Captain."

He had to concede the battle. He didn't think anyone remembered her name. Hell, her own mother had probably forgotten by now.

"Very well then, Dr. Shepard."

Her lips quirked again as her eyes slid back down to the screen before her. Anderson knew she was waiting for him to speak and drag her attention back away, but he found himself momentarily curious as to her current studies. That was the issue with datapads. Anyone could read them from behind, as long as they could read backwards.

"Analysis and Speculation as to the Nature and Purpose of the Caleston Ruins by Dr. L. T'soni." Anderson read aloud before looking back up at Shepard. "Stimulating read?"

"Fascinating. However," her eyes rose back to meet his, "I doubt you came all the way to Mars to discuss my choice in recreational literature? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have an offer for you." Came his response. Slowly, at first, before finally picking up steam. "I've been given a new command, and leeway to pick the crew myself. The admiralty board's exact words were "anyone you want, Anderson. Anyone you need." He paused for a moment, but her eyes told him to keep going. Good. He had her interested. "Its a new vessel. Sleek, quick, and virtually undetectable. First in her class."

Her brows furrowed as she spoke: "Are there any other specifics?"

Anderson couldn't help but grin at the way her eyes lit up with curiosity, He had her now, he was sure of it. "The Normandy's a joint venture between us and the turians."

"Joint crew?"

"Just alliance. We built it to handle missions other task forces aren't equipped for. Like Torfan." His tone dropped at the mention of that infamous battle, then resumed its usual quality. "And for that, we need a science officer. An expert in as many fields as we can expect to need, and a few that we have no right to ever anticipate being relevant."

"Then I sound perfect." Shepard quipped.

"And that's why I'm asking. Figured I'd give you the right of first refusal."

Shepard's eyes shot to the ceiling to her right. A gloved finger rose to tap her lips idly. "Hmm. Leave this stuffy laboratory, get a bulkhead under my feet again, meet interesting people, dissect interesting specimens, interesting puzzles, the infuriation my mother will no doubt feel, the opportunity to serve aboard a cutting-edge vessel, not to mention the pension I'll inevitably merit, and the dashing heroics etcetera, etcetera." Her lips quirked again as she returned her gaze to Anderson.

"And, of course, there's your acute sense of duty." They shared a knowing look at that particular in-joke. "So, you're in?"

"You didn't even need to ask. My doctorates are wasted in here." She said dramatically, raising an arm to rest the back of her hand on her forehead. "I'm practically stagnating. When do I ship out?'

"Two months. The Alliance will take care of all the arrangements. I'll deal with the university myself if need be." He rose, then extended his hand towards her. "It'll be good to have you aboard, doctor."

She took his hand and shook it once before releasing. "Of course it will."

And for the first time in several months, Shepard allowed herself a hearty grin. "It will, won't it?"