She puts a hand to her head, another hopeless sort of sigh on her lips. "What was it you said, kid? We're the same? You're makin' good on that now."

Shepard lets the hand move up through her hair, trying to raise her shoulders, pull herself up. But it still presses heavy, the truth of her situation, that she has to go home eventually and keep-- living, past it all. When did the thought of just being alive get so hard to process?

"So what's the... purpose, then? Just to exist? Look pretty for someone? What... future is there gonna be, you know?"