There's no mistaking that hitch in any species, and Shepard watches Nihlus closely as his movements and tone fill out every one of her mental tickyboxes for "elevated levels of stress".

At the mention of a mirror, she glances above her own head, eyebrows jumping up. Yikes. Not wholly visible from her angle, but she can tell at a cursory glance that it could benefit from a scroll bar. Despite Nihlus' movements, however, his own medical log just tilts to face her any time she takes an interest in it. She frowns, and explicitly directs her eyes somewhere it's not, before addressing her mentor. Although she had no issue with Nihlus seeing her records — god only knows how many randoms had seen it, at this point — Shepard is certain not everyone shares her laissez-faire approach to personal medical confidentiality.

"Nihlus, hold on. Talk to me, here." She catches him by the shoulder, her own jangling nerves in check through the act of attempting to steady someone else's. "This is just the station, screwing with us. Now, I won't look at your report unless you tell me I can, but you've got my permission, and I want you to read me a few lines, so I can confirm it's the real deal. Okay?"