He has to hand it to them-- York and her ilk don't play around when it comes to their jobs.

And that's how he likes it. Back home, he'd always admired disciplined soldiers, especially when they came with their own side of snark. The overall atmosphere between both York and North lends itself to a feeling of budding companionship, in a sharp contrast to the general awkwardness Garrus often kept hidden away when dealing with these newcomers.

It was all to save face, of course.

Then came the command. It's simple enough to decipher pretty much immediately, but it still catches him off guard and serves as a quick reminder: he's not one of them, despite the fact that he's more than willing to work with them. They'll always have that camaraderie to rely on should things go rough. He'd do his best to match, but he knows all too well that nothing can beat that special synergy between teammates. It's by no means a bad thing. Quite the opposite, actually.

He waits for York to respond, choosing to keep quiet. It feels as though he's intruding otherwise.