"Joined the Alliance Navy when I turned eighteen," Shepard admits, because of all the things he could ask, that answer definitely isn't a secret, "I grew up pretty poor, and you would not believe the benefits package the Alliance offers if you qualify for the command track. The medical insurance alone..."

She gestures with her pen, a cutting, sideways motion as if to demonstrate how easy to decision had been. Shepard had needed help, and in exchange for service, the Military could support her. Simple as that. Of course, in reality nothing about life was ever really simple, but she didn't owe anyone her life's story at a first meeting.

"Anywhere particular you've been working for? I'm interviewing a few people today, and I could pass on recommendations," Which wasn't a lie, of course. Shepard was good at people, liked talking her way both into and out of trouble, and had no difficulty with dishonesty; but she'd been transparent enough about her intentions. This wasn't about charity, even if good came of it: this was about information. And, why not? It could be both things at the same time, "Lots of people stick around eating out of the barracks mess because they can't find their feet down here. Hell, I'm one of 'em; never could adjust to civilian life."

And that, after all, is the real and unvarnished truth.