Homura breathes a sigh of relief she didn't even know she was holding when Shepard lets up on the questioning. That she seemingly has the woman's approval does not register as anything worth responding to; she needs no one's approval but, perhaps, her own.

Training - the reason she came here to begin with - sounds much better than answering personal questions, dredging up a past she can't help thinking of, even when she doesn't want to.

She nods, holds up her pistol. "What do you have in mind?"