Shepard's boots crunch on the gravel as she approaches, audible difference between the gangplank and the dirt. Very rarely has she ever been accused of being stealthy, but now she is deliberately otherwise, watching him contemplate the compressed form of— ah.

"It's an assault rifle," Shepard says, when the suspense seems to have gone on long enough, "There's a switch, there, left side bottom, grey silicon. The real one would be keyed to specific authorizations, but this is the Horizon, so..."

So he might shortly find himself holding an armful of the block, antiquated profile of the M-96 Mattock. Shepard liked to think of it as a classic, or at least of being classically intimidating, but the reality was that it was more Garrus' forte than her own. He liked precision, and she liked eliminating the need for it.

Still, doesn't hurt to have the option.

"...Sephiroth, I presume?"