"You sure?" He has to ask. Who else is going to watch Shepard's back, while they're here? He knows she pushes herself harder than anyone. Hell, he wants to keep pushing onward too. But he's just a regular old solider, not someone who could deadlift buildings with his brain.

They should have brought more food. More calories for her. More water for her. He knows damn well Shepard never would have accepted concessions like that, but he should have known better. He is itchy to keep up the work. And even more so to make sure someone important to him comes through this on her feet.

"I know I could use a breather. And I'm no biotic."

Maybe they can round up something to get her back in action sooner. Or... ah. The question of the hour. The one he's been driving off all day. He's quiet for a while, the gears churning in his head. His mandibles flex, fluttering with almost inaudible taps against his jawline.

"It's better than Palaven was," he admits. Which is possibly the best he can say about all this. He doesn't know these people. They aren't his people. He can't see the faces of his family in the survivors and wonder. "Lack of Reapers is always a bonus, too."

He doesn't say what else he's thinking. That this very well could be foreshadowing of her future.

Of Earth's future.