[There's a stretch of silence. Once upon a time he would have asked how she could think otherwise, because of course they'd make it. But Garrus was living with proof that not all of them would.]

You'll go to Rannoch. You'll build a house. With the help of a dozen Primes who all want to impress Ambassador Tali'Zorah vas Normandy and who remember your answer. There will be parties at your house, and that rock Shepard gave you sits on the mantel of your fireplace until one of Wrex's half-billion kids knocks it over and it hits them on the head so they eat it. It'll probably be the one named Mordin, because we know how Mordins turn out.

And I'll saunter in late. Stylishly so. You know. Hierarchy business delayed me. I'm a bigshot now, don't know if you heard. [It's deliberately teasing; Garrus isn't the most comfortable with his rank change.] But I get there, and I bring the dextro wine because everyone else forgot that tiny detail.

So there. That's what you'll be doing. Building, and ambassadoring, and then partying with everyone... With everyone left. And that's all of the crew. We're not losing anyone else. We've lost enough.