"I'd cut you a check, if anybody had ever let me get away with Turian irregular on the payroll," Shepard replied, half disgruntled at the annoyance of chasing down a screaming mechanical cockroach, and half in high good spirits at the flirting. An unfriendly mix, but she gets by however she can, "As it stands, I spent most of the last tour pulling credits out of dead people's omnitool debits and wall safes; it's not like Cerberus' operations budget was all that generous."

Or maybe it was supposed to have been, and instead they'd spent it all on her. Chilling thought, actually, and the moment it crosses Shepard's mind, she grimaces and redoubles the search. So much for good moods.

"It's gotta be around here somewhere!" The alleyway is a dead end, and the screaming is coming from somewhere under the garbage, echoing off the walls and packed-dirt ground until its impossible to pinpoint the exact position by ear. Or anything else by ear, really; Shepard has to shout just to be heard over the din, "See anything?!"