"Touch."

The word grates out from a clenched jaw. If he'd been any other species, it's doubtful the word would have come out at all. With all the underlying vibrations to it, it's almost garbled as it is - anger, disgust, shame, fear, guilt. Garrus couldn't play poker with another turian to save his life at this point, too used to being around species who couldn't read into those lines.

He holds up his hands once Shepard looks stable, and doesn't meet her eyes.

"Nothing happened this time, did it? First time, was you touching me. The other times? Me, touching you."

Now he just sounds bitter.

"So instead of useful light, I get this crap."

Instead of being useful, instead of being helpful, whatever the hell power this is has just made it so he can't so much as be in contact with Shepard - with anyone, maybe. But Shepard... not only that, he's actively hurting her. Hurting the person - hurting someone he cares for. He's stepped back, now, for her sake, arms folded tight across his chest, mandibles flattened to his jaw. It's worse than screwing up. Worse than tripping over his words or a bad date, or anything like that.

So much for one thing going right.