Rawdon hadn't really thought about the fact it was his birthday. He'd noticed Sophia posting about it on the network, that was all. When you were meant to be dead, but instead had been gifted your 20-something year old body instead... age became somewhat irrelevant.
After he'd received Shepard's messages, he'd dressed lazily in a mismatch of eras. Modern jeans, a shirt that would more rightly be described as underwear in his own time, and a hand-stitched waistcoat of blue and silver left hanging open like it had been an afterthought. He hadn't bothered about shoes.
As the elevator descended, he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to calm wild curls. And then the doors opened, and the sight of Shepard waiting on him right there made him pause for a moment before he sort of hopped out.
He looked her quickly up and down, a bit of a dirty smile playing on his lips. "Well hello, Commander," he drawled in his low tone. "You never mentioned that it was to be a formal affair."