Gentleness is not in Shepard's typical lexicon; she does the other thing. But she does try for gentleness, in letting go of the ruined house. At first, for at least a half-second, it even seems to have worked. And then there's an almighty crack as a foundation already more than half cracked goes all the way, and in the cellarspace the furniture goes under without so much as a patch on the noise of the rest. No hesitation, not a moment's respite, it all simply crumpled in on itself like a fallen cake. Dust blew out on the exhale of air, and Shepard shielded her eyes and did her best not to breathe any of it.

It wasn't as if they'd invented asbestos yet, but surely there were better things for her lungs, even still.

"St—" She has to stop and cough, turning half-blinded to move back towards the street itself, in the direction she thought Garrus had gone. A clean breath of air, and Shepard barked an order, "Status!"

The dog barked twice as he recognized her, deep and sharp, very like a threat for all his wagging tail and bouncing glee. The dust was settling; one down.