There's a very distinct look to new Summoned. They're the only ones, for example, who go around glaring at the fixtures; the scared ones are most common, that watch everything like it might bite. All of them have loaned uniforms of the wrong fit, and too-new boots pulled from requisitions, freshly cleaned.

Shepard leans against the wall at the edge of the training field, not far from Bucky's seat, and watches people move, thoughtfully. Another crop of Summoned; it wasn't hard to guess who. New faces, same expressions. Fuck he says, and she's barked a laugh before really meaning to. Yeah, buddy, that about sums it up.

"Suck it up, Princess," She opines, full of casual disregard. He's taller than her, and broader— most people are. Between that and the obvious cybernetics, a sensible person might consider a more tactful approach, "Welcome to Cadens. Might as well get used to it."

Shepard has never been accused of tact, and only rarely of being sensible.