She has to snort at that. From cheerful to professional on a moment's notice, and she didn't even have to hit anyone. Nice.

"Okay. I'm Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy," She's got no indication of District Five anywhere on her person— lately it's been back to the shepherd puns with the Stylists, and today is the day of powder blue sweatshirts with fleecy cartoon sheep. But the carafé has five's symbol stenciled on it, numeric designation standing proud, so there's no keeping it a secret.

It's just that Shepard doesn't give a damn about arbitrarily applied team divisions.

"Got a friend in Eight. You've probably noticed him, tall guy, face like a bird got with a cricket," Garrus was anything but inconspicuous, in the predominately human Tribute center, "Don't eat anything with his name on it. I promise you'll thank me."