In vids and suspense novels, someone like Shepard might've said something like no, what? Shepard, a veteran of dark corners where deadly monsters lurk, does nothing quite so stupid— she listens, nods once sharply, then touches Garrus' shoulder in an old signal— get to cover, hold fire.

It doesn't have to be a ghoul, ghost, or possessed wax figure, after all. It could be a janitor or something. Probably better not to perforate the sanitation staff.

"Flare!" She warns, all business as the marble of light winks into existance in her palm. This had been the first skill Abraxas had given her, and she's well used to it by now; it makes a low, bowling arc, a glowing laser-dot casting harsh, flickering shadows upwards as it rolls smartly— and then bursts into an intense, sustained glow.

The hall is abruptly lit by noonday brilliance, only very slowly fading, to reveal...