Shepard makes a face, but it can't last; he bends down, pressing the breath of his laughter against her hair and shoulders and she lets go of the grumbling with just a little reluctance. She's right, after all.

But better than shouting about people who wouldn't remember or likely care even if they could hear her, is the weight of him against her, temple and cheek.

"Laugh it up, Vakarian," He apologizes, or tries to, and so she reaches up and back, to cup his head at the back and hold onto to him, bring him closer as the hysteria subsides, "You alright?"