<div class="floatleft">(http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/053/1/6/16765d6dbbab2fe707faca3315a8cea2-d5k4jy8.png)</div><strong>Jeanette Gagarin<br/>Roxi's Garage</strong><br/><br/>“A little loose in the shoulders, but I like it,” Jeanette said, eyeing Roxi in the jacket. The all-tool pinged again, causing Jeanette to roll her eyes in annoyance. “What now…” She used the controls in her glove to manipulate it so that she wouldn’t have to let Roxi’s arm go.<br/><br/><em>Return to game immediately. Gameplay scheduled. -System</em><br/><br/>“Well, fuck,” the warrior growled, turning an apologetic eye to Roxi. “Terrible timing.” She pivoted, wrapping both armored limbs around the racer and pulling her close for a deep kiss. “I gotta go. Here’s a raincheck with no expiration date.” Releasing Roxi, Jeanette flicked her fingers quick as lightning across the all-tool, which flared to life and flash-fabricated a small, translucent orange device. “Here’s a one-to-one comm. If you want to contact me, just hit the button and talk. Even if I’m too busy to pick up, I’ll get the message.”<br/><br/>“Damn it,” she muttered again, blushing a little as she continued. “Look, I know my reputation, but I’d love to see you again, and soon, so make sure you use that. It’ll accept messages from me, too. Next time we’re off duty, okay?”<br/><br/>A timer ticked away on her all-tool indicating how long she had to return to the game before it loaded. There was just enough left. Jeanette gave Roxi another quick peck on the lips and waved goodbye, her hesitance to leave quite plain on her face until she turned, activated her suit’s adrenaline mode, and cyborg-sprinted out of Zero-G, blurring through the Desktop, and back into Mass Impact.<br/><br/>It was always disconcerting re-entering her own game, because while almost every other game had a typical main menu, hers was the bridge of her ship, so she would just blink into existence at the main console. Since nobody used any kind of signaling system, the bridge crew was always surprised. At least, during gametime, few to no characters were traveling between games.<br/><br/>The cute comms specialist, Tamara Payne, flinched and gasped, “Oh! Hello, colonel!” Her practiced middle-class London accent hid, only mostly, her native lower-class accent. She had built her way up from small beginnings and wasn’t proud to remember them, so she tried to make sure no one could tell. Most people were fooled, but Jeanette had the personnel files. “It’s about time to face the Harvesters again, is it?”<br/><br/>“Hard to say, Tam,” the colonel mused. “There’s some new content today, multiplayer stuff. Seems likely we’ll see that.”