She could call her situation many things: stupid, uncomfortable, isolated, dangerous, risky, uneasy, etc. Megan decided to go with ridiculously treacherous for this one.
Megan wasn't entirely sure why she agreed to this particular mission. There were promises of the possibility of medals and a very hefty promotion, but she didn't think much of it, or at least that's what she told herself. If she rejected the proposal, what would happen?
Would she have been transferred to another facility on a different colony, training one patriotic youth after another?
Maybe, she'd prefer something easy, like a posting on a comfy cruiser such as the SSV Madrid. Megan knew she'd be able to catch enough action there, without being irritated by biotics that were her juniors by a couple years.
Or there's that charming of idea of giving up the Alliance all together and returning to her home planet. The old family business would bring in a good salary to keep her content.
But nope - she had to go for the high road. Glory and mystery was just a little too tempting for her to resist, apparently. So now Megan feels on edge while pacing awkwardly in her personal quarters. It was spacious enough - the quarters. The accommodations fit the proper bounds of any human's needs and comfort. Not very hard to believe though, considering she was the only one of her kind on board. Although, that thought made her even more nervous and tense than when she first agreed to the assignment....
The noise of the doors opening almost made her panic and jump as she whipped her body around.
The commanding officer on board entered her room without even as much as an apology for starling her. He walked warily around the quarters briefly as she eyed his cautious posture. Megan felt like as if it was elementary school all over again. People (or children in this case) avoiding because of her looks. Her Black Irish traits did little for then, and were doing absolutely nothing for her now. That, and being a human.
"I take it you are satisfied?" The CO asked unhurriedly, stopping his careful steps. Megan nodded slowly.
He glanced at her momentarily to see her response, as he eyes went back to searching (and probably criticizing) her living situation. He finally said, "It comes to my attention that being a biotic, you have certain side effects caused by..." he turned his head to look at her, "your implants."
Megan remained calm, or tried to as she studied him. He was likely stronger than her and heavier too, she mutely noted. The Turian could easily kill her in multiple ways just be the use of brute force (or something similar) right now before she could react with a throw or biotic lunge.
She realized she had yet to reply.
"No, err, sir. Nothing major, besides the occasional twitch, headache, or erratic eye movement - all of which can be stopped with a short rest or a meal." She informed him, her tone anxious.
The Turian stiffly nodded and stood there for a while. Was he weighing his chances of knocking her down right then and there, or would he wait until later? Megan asked herself, her paranoid thoughts a bit overwhelming.
He left the room quickly though, after another silent observation, bidding her a, "Very well, Miss Kane," before disappearing completely behind sealed doors.
Then the most curious question slipped out of her mouth into the emptiness of the quarters.
"Why am I doing this, again?"