[ For a second, thanks to the barrier between them, the only thing Mordin gives Shepard is his silence. Which must be uncomfortable, at best. It's a measured couple beats, though, and even as she's apologizing he's withdrawing his fingers in a manner more practiced than eager. Her response... entirely inappropriate, he knows, probably technical breach of protocol, abuse of authority as commanding officer, but yet—
Idea in itself breach of propriety. Occurs to him, though, that Cerberus command's standards of propriety somewhat looser than Alliance, Union, Council. Shepard's own standards as well (only thing loose about her, too). Had let her down gently before. If wanted to try human, would try you. But maybe shift in parameters. Maybe want to try human. Maybe already is.
His mouth seems to have gone a little dry. He hadn't considered that something as simple as this could be enough for her. It almost strikes him as... doable. Moral gray area, perhaps, but not at all grayer than the things he's done in his life already. Very well. First things first. Elephant in room. He shifts up to look her in the eye, very aware of the holographic wire frame of a speculum currently rendering on his omni-tool's fabricator and making certain she's aware of it as well. ]
Apology unnecessary, Shepard. Arousal during medical procedures... more common than imagined. Don't need to take it as expression of interest if—would prefer I didn't.
Good news, though! No evidence of invasive Cerberus tech. Wise to suggest physical examination, though; can fool scans, spoof readout. No substitute for sight, touch. [ A little smile touches his face, as though charmed by the banality of it. It's like she wasn't just clenching pleasurably around him mere moments ago. ] Traditional approach... sometimes best.
[ But the mini-fabricator's work is finished, and Mordin's gaze flicks swiftly from the speculum's glow to Shepard's face, pulling from all his knowledge of human facial tics to determine whether the suggestion of it has elicited a reaction. ]
Further procedures unnecessary. Exam concluded.
[ A deep inhale. Probably not misreading situation. Still, about to show cards. Risky. ]
No longer your doctor.
[ Which, in context, might actually be the filthiest thing he's ever said to anybody. He continues to reassure himself that this is not the worst breach of medical ethics he's ever committed by far. Also, he's suddenly recognized that he's been feeling... unusual over the past several minutes—unusual in ways that take him back to long-lapsed negotiations with a magnetic young dalatrass, to the sinuous asari dancers Aria T'Loak surrounded herself with in Omega—in response to what he can only posit must be the pheromone-laden scent of her. ]
Still, could [ lifted brow. ] afford some redundancies. [ Minute, sheepish sniff. ] If desired.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2014-09-08 08:34 am (UTC)Idea in itself breach of propriety. Occurs to him, though, that Cerberus command's standards of propriety somewhat looser than Alliance, Union, Council. Shepard's own standards as well (only thing loose about her, too). Had let her down gently before. If wanted to try human, would try you. But maybe shift in parameters. Maybe want to try human. Maybe already is.
His mouth seems to have gone a little dry. He hadn't considered that something as simple as this could be enough for her. It almost strikes him as... doable. Moral gray area, perhaps, but not at all grayer than the things he's done in his life already. Very well. First things first. Elephant in room. He shifts up to look her in the eye, very aware of the holographic wire frame of a speculum currently rendering on his omni-tool's fabricator and making certain she's aware of it as well. ]
Apology unnecessary, Shepard. Arousal during medical procedures... more common than imagined. Don't need to take it as expression of interest if—would prefer I didn't.
Good news, though! No evidence of invasive Cerberus tech. Wise to suggest physical examination, though; can fool scans, spoof readout. No substitute for sight, touch. [ A little smile touches his face, as though charmed by the banality of it. It's like she wasn't just clenching pleasurably around him mere moments ago. ] Traditional approach... sometimes best.
[ But the mini-fabricator's work is finished, and Mordin's gaze flicks swiftly from the speculum's glow to Shepard's face, pulling from all his knowledge of human facial tics to determine whether the suggestion of it has elicited a reaction. ]
Further procedures unnecessary. Exam concluded.
[ A deep inhale. Probably not misreading situation. Still, about to show cards. Risky. ]
No longer your doctor.
[ Which, in context, might actually be the filthiest thing he's ever said to anybody. He continues to reassure himself that this is not the worst breach of medical ethics he's ever committed by far. Also, he's suddenly recognized that he's been feeling... unusual over the past several minutes—unusual in ways that take him back to long-lapsed negotiations with a magnetic young dalatrass, to the sinuous asari dancers Aria T'Loak surrounded herself with in Omega—in response to what he can only posit must be the pheromone-laden scent of her. ]
Still, could [ lifted brow. ] afford some redundancies. [ Minute, sheepish sniff. ] If desired.
[ And there it is. ]