Darkest Before the Dawn

[Maren Dirge]

Maren ran.

At that precise moment, there were two options: run, or die. The forests that fringed the edge of Lake Paonga were not meant to be sprinted through. Though the surface of Naboo was home to few predatory beasts, the terrain itself made for a tireless opponent. Vines ensnared her steps and every now and then she would step and stumble into the hollow of a tree trunk, its roots hidden beneath the thick undergrowth. Every misstep lasted only a second, in spite of her near certainty that she had fractured her left leg, but one second became two became five became ten and soon the forest was eating up what little time she had.

They would have seen her shuttle crash. How could they not? It's brief flight from Theed City had lasted only a matter of minutes before planetary defence forces had mobilised, with typical Imperial efficiency, and shot her down. The navigation console shot sparks as a warning siren cried out in protest at the ship's perilously steep angle of descent. With both hands on the steering yoke, Maren's knuckles went white with the effort and pulling on the controls – yet no matter how tight she gripped them, the nose would not lift from its dive.

The ship hit the jungle canopy at a jarring angle, colliding with thick tree limbs. The collision threw Maren against the wall of the cockpit, as her craft ricocheted like deflected blaster-shot to the right. Near-burning with light, its meteoric fall carved a scar of burned and broken foliage through the forest before finally crashing to a halt in the swampy terrain, impaled like a dagger in the breast of the sodden earth. It was far behind her now, but smoke rose from the battered hull like a beacon. Although she had survived the crash, the only way she would survive Naboo was to put as much distance between herself and what had been, minutes ago, her only viable means of getting offworld.

So, Maren ran, and she didn't look back.

[John Glayde]

Shantipole Station, Roche Asteroids

Glayde shifted uncomfortably. In the interests of convenience and privacy, he'd chosen to conduct this briefing in his office, rather than in one of the larger spaces - though larger was something of a relative term, given the cramped confines of the asteroid that Dorn Force had recently adopted as its headquarters.

Aurek and Besh Companies - the Pathfinders and the Marines of the Special Reconnaissance Regiment - were deployed aboard frigates, ready to respond swiftly to missions across the Alliance's area of operations. Because of the nature of Dorn however, and their propensity for the use of small teams and small ships, the Logistics bigwigs in their infinite wisdom had decided that they were better off with a fixed headquarters.

In other words, they were too stingy to allocate a big enough ship a unit so small.

Instead, they had retasked the Shantipole Research Station - the facility where the Alliance had developed the B-Wing Fighter - as their new home. Unfortunately - and Glayde really didn't want to seem ungreatful or anything - the base had been pretty much trashed by the Imperials when they'd found out what was going on there. One of the hangers was trashed, and a few of the tunnels had collapsed; but on the plus side, the Alliance Engineers had been hard at work patching things up, retasking some of the Verpine tunnels, and all that jazz; and Glayde had to admit, he'd been assigned to worse places before.

The reason for his uncomfortable shifting was nothing to do with the chosen location of their meeting place, however. It was more to do with his chosen stance. Sitting behind his desk had made him feel like an idiot, while standing seemed unnecessarily formal, particularly given how his 'guests' were seated on the makeshift mixture of upturned boxes and crates that passed for furniture at the moment. So, he'd decided to perch on the corner of his desk, feeling that would add a slightly more casual and approachable air. As it turned out, doing so was quite literally a pain in the ass.

"Yesterday, SpecOps recieved a coded transmission from one of their operatives, undercover on Naboo," he announced, jamming a finger into the controls of the small holoprojector beside him. "She reported that her cover was at risk of being compromised; a few hours later, we intercepted reports of a stolen shuttle, a subsequent crash, and orders for a full search operation by the local Imperial garrison."

He paused momentarily for breath, lips drawing into a thin line as he glanced in turn at the operatives he'd ellected for this mission. Colonel Dalgas had instructed that he keep it small, and he certainly had: only three others joined him in his office, with another waiting for them on Naboo. While their off-duty personalities might beg to differ, there were few choices better than Lieutenant Tur'enne and Captain Tallen when it came to remaining covert. Tur'enne was a veteran infiltrator, and a sniper to boot; while Tallen's skill with demolitions was augmented with literal cat-like stealth. Their man on Naboo was a native, serving with their Security Forces as well as being a former Scout Trooper, and SpecForce Ranger: invaluable when it came to navigating Naboo's forests and swamps.

Charlotte's brother was a more unorthadox choice, but much as Glayde was loathed to admit it, having the techno whizz on-hand as their fifth man, providing comm support and tech support from the ship was an advantage that couldn't be overlooked; not to mention the pure benefits of having an extra body to fire up the engines on the escape ship when things inevitably went snafu.

"SpecOps doesn't have a team available for this kind of operation, so it's up to us. We're looking at a standard covert extraction; and yes, we're up against a full Imperial search effort, so remaining undetected is a must." He hesitated, allowing a smile to quirk at his mouth briefly. "Luckily, the Imps aren't looking for us, and they're predictable as hell: that gives us the advantage."

The smile recinded, tumbling away into professional neutrality. "Time is of the essence, people: there'll be more detailed information available once we're in transit. That said -" He paused for a beat. "- questions?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Of all the things in the universe that Charlotte actually found solace in, a big one was change. Thankfully it was something the Rebellion supplied in abundance, even if it was from necessity rather than an actual want to keep their forced from getting bored.

The move to Shantipole Station was a welcome thing. It got the entire Dorn crew off the ship they had been confided to, gave the illusion of more space, and gave them the ability to actually be housed alongside other task forces. Not that she got along with the boys and girls of Aurek and Besh... but it did give her ample opportunity to remind herself that the patches on her uniform no longer were the same ones that Glayde and Tallen had. Which meant she technically only had to do as Dalgas told her. Of course he'd curtailed that little window by immediately stamping out that she was to treat any order from the Major as his own. It wasn't all bad though, the Captain had blissfully been left out of that little arrangement.

Charles took a glance over at her sibling before looking back to Glayde. "Yeah, I got a question... This mission isn't to go retrieve a cousin of mine but you won't tell us that until the last possible minute, is it? I mean, I don't think this company can really handle another one of us. Bad enough you're keeping Xander around for operation: sacrificial diversion."

[Alexander Tur'enne]

"Sacrifice, my ass," Xander interjected, hesitating for a moment as he was thrown off-track by the unintentional double ententre. He allowed himself a fraction of a second of self-satisfied amusement before throwing himself back into his protest. "The Major knows that if it weren't for me lugging his sweet and fine out of that bunker, he'd be Gurrcat chow back on Corellia about now."

He shot Charlotte the kind of smug, catty smile that only an effeminate sibling could deliver with such prowess. "And you, on the other hand, would have some Imperial officer would be making you his bitch, instead of you just being one around here naturally."

It took a moment for him to realise just how inappropriate his choice of words had been there; but of course, as with most sentences that tumbled out of his mouth, any thought about them came far too late to be of any benefit. He winced, eyes flitting away to evade the either pained or murderous glare that Charlie was no doubt firing in his direction.

[John Glayde]

Glayde fought back a sigh. With a close-knit unit like this, where you both lived in cramped conditions and battled through intensely stressful missions with the people you served alongside, tensions always ran a little high; particularly in the Rebellion, where protocols were considerably more relaxed than the totalitarian Imperial military. While many would frown on having relatives working so closely together, the comrade bonds that were forged in these situations were practically family anyway, so the point became somewhat moot.

It did however alter his position within the unit so much: less a leader, and more a referee. There were times when he resented it; others when it was merely a mild frustration that you grew accustomed to, like all of the other niggles and peeves that came part and parcel with being part of the Alliance. Today, his frustration level lay somewhere in between, and he felt himself resign to the inevitability of their childish bickering. One day, he mused, gathering his calm and sanity as best he could, This job will be the death of me.

Adopting what he hoped was at least a passable diplomatic tone, he fixed Charlotte with a look to snag her attention and lock it on him. "No cousins," he assured gently, arms unfolding and falling to the desk's edge either side of him. "No long-lost almost sisters," he added, thinking back over some of his own recent almost-too-absurd-to-be-true missions, "Old collegues, childhood friends, former lovers, or anything like that. Although -" He hesitated for a moment, struggling to remember what had happened after those first few pints of ale on Life Day. His eyes fell on Mara, with a hint of a mischevious glint. "- I'm not so sure about our contact on Naboo. He may fall in your latter category, Captain."

[Mara Tallen]

A faint smile curled her lips in response, her mind flicking across her list of recent dalliances. There had been an X-wing pilot...but he was Corellian. Then there was the Chandrilan medic...a couple of mechanics from Kuat...another Corellian pilot...and Xander.

He'd been a mistake...and whatever satisfaction she'd gained from their dalliance had dissipated in light of the exchange he'd had with Charlotte immediately after.

Because your history with John wasn't enough...

Shove it.

Mara's eyes traveled across John briefly, lingering on his features before she focused on the flimsis and datapads littering his desk. She took a deep breath as the faint smile fled from her features, and she shifted her position atop the crate serving as her seat. Her mind slowly wound its way back to the mission, making a detailed list of gear to pack.

"I've got a couple, but they can wait until we're on our way." She said as she stood, smoothing out her sleek black bodysuit, her posture anticipating being dismissed to go prepare.

[John Glayde]

John appreciated Mara's willingness to save the questions until they were in transit, but there was something he'd seen shift behind her eyes that worried him a little, and left him with the suspicion that he might be in some way responsible.

He fought back a sigh. He had recently adopted the desire to turn Dorn Force into more of a family than a mere military unit - something more in keeping with the attitudes of the Rebellion, and of the team's members too - but he had been holding out hope that said family wouldn't be quite as dysfunctional as this one was.

Still, now was hardly the time to dwell. They had a mission to run.

"Grab your gear," he ordered. "We'll rendezvous at the Astral Queen, and leave as soon as we're all ready." He paused for a beat, sparing each one of them a few moments' glance. "Dismissed."

[Maren Dirge]

Swoop bike engines droned past Maren as she crouched in the hollow of a tree trunk. Through a split in the bark, she watched the Imperial scouts as they weaved on into the forest. They were only a precursor of what was to come, however. The scouts weren't meant to closely inspect the terrain. They charged through it without a care, scattering flocks of wildlife before them. That was what they wanted of course – for their fugitive to spring from her hiding place, like a startled bird taking to the wing, but she wouldn't be so easily shaken.

Slipping out into the open once more, Maren kept her centre of gravity low as she stalked through the undergrowth. It was almost certain that, with her cover compromised, one of the other agents within Theed City had passed a message onto SpecOps Command. Whether they wrote her off as a lost cause or deemed her a viable candidate for rescue, a team would be dispatched, even if it was only to make sure that what she knew was forever drowned in the swamps of Naboo.

[Amos Iakona]

Theed City, Naboo

Amos watched, sleeves of his loose beige tunic flapping against his folded arms as narrowed eyes followed the course of the descending Astral Queen. Even if he hadn't been previously informed that it was the Queen arriving, he could have interpreted as much; she still bore the odd scar here and there from the trip Glayde and he had taken to Raxus; no one had bothered to replace the auxiliary comm antenna that had been grazed off by a too-close encounter with a just-vaped TIE Fighter's port solar panel during a mission from the Valiant; and no one had bothered to hunt out and adjust the resonant frequency on that faulty repulsorlift coil, giving a characteristic, asthmatic background wheeze to the ship's engines as she landed.

Part of him was disappointed that the old girl hadn't managed to scam a spruce-up on the Alliance's budget, but then again, those were the kind of things that made the Queen who she was, and made him glad that he'd left her in SpecForce company. Had she wound up with those fighter jocks that Jaden had run off to play with, she'd probably have come back all shiny and new, with a blinding all-white interior, and some obsurd s-foil arrangement mounted on her hips.

The repulsorlift hum hadn't dropped more than a few semitones before the hatch began to whine its way open. Amos didn't wait for it to hit the ground before he hopped on, scaling the few meters into the ship with a few easy strides. He glanced to his right, eyes noting the presence of a short, young, blonde woman at the ramp controls; time constraints, secrecy, and various other equally important-sounding reasons had prevented Glayde from providing him with any information in advance on the crew he was bringing, and as a result he had absolutely no clue who said woman was.

He assumed, however, that Glayde had taken the opportunity to brief his team on who he was. Arms hanging loose by his sides, he cocked his dreadlocked head to one side. "Take me to your leader?" he requested, a brief twitch of a smile fortunately hidden by the thick whiskers of his beard.

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Charles tensed, barely, just enough to ensure that her hand would be able to reach for her side arm and lay out the guy at the bottom of the ramp if it proved necessary before he could do the same to her.

True Glayde had given them all a small briefing on their associate on Naboo, but you couldn't ever be too careful. Or too paranoid...? She managed to tell herself in the utmost polite terms to stop thinking that way. (Shut the frink up, Charles.)

"Depends on which leader you're looking for."

[Amos Iakona]

Depends of which - Were they really going to play this infuriatingly frustrating game? She had to be a Corellian, that much was clear: she had to be cut from the same cloth as Jaden or Glayde to manage to pull off seeming so innocently annoyinging.

Biting back his frustration, he managed to tone his sigh down into a simple, slow breath. "Well, lets see. He's a short guy; well -" He hesitated, eyes narrowing as he sized up the Corellian blonde. "- relatively short. Short for me. I guess he's kinda tall for you; got a good head or so on you there." He over-emphasised a frown, wondering what vague descriptor to throw out next. "He looks good in a suit; and he's pretty deft on a speeder bike, and not too shabby in the cockpit either, though his in-atmosphere piloting leaves a little to be desired; particularly if you've just had a heavy meal." His arms refolded across his chest. "Oh, and he answers to Major, John, Glayde, and Playboy." The frown this time was a little more genuine. "Don't ask me about that last one: I really don't have a clue."

Again his eyes narrowed, fixed squarely on her. "Assuming that's specific enough, take me to that leader. Or do I have to start doing impressions?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Playboy? And to think the Major took little shots at her own alias and preferred call sign. Yep, Charles was going to have to file that little tidbit away. That whole suit business somewhat caught her off guard too and while she wanted to cheekily ask what else the other man thought the Major looked good in and probably make some comment about her brother's tastes, she just couldn't go that far. Not yet anyway.

"Only if you fess up to how much he paid you off to say all that."

She waited a beat before motioning with her head for the man to follow her. It wasn't that she really trusted him, but it would be easier to handle him on her terms on the ship if he wanted to try anything anyway. That, and a quick call for help would bring along the Major and the Captain in short order if this man wasn't what she expected him to be. For some reason the thought of her and he other two officers kicking the crap out of some wanna-be Imperial Spy amused her.

[Mara Tallen]

The details, and lack of certain details that John provided were still chasing one another around her mind as she made her way to the side of the cargo hold where her gear was stashed. Two long black cases were laid side-by-side and opened, while her sleek profile backpack waited, empty. Fingertips tapped across glossy lips as amber eyes perused what she'd brought along.

Right then...keep it light...keep it compact...Mara mused, gracefully dropping to her knees as she began packing her favorites. Anticipating that she'd shift at least once, she was already clad in her skintight bodysuit and knee-high boots. Fingers were busy coiling wires as she heard footsteps behind her and turned to look. A smile curled her lips as nodded towards the hallway beyond her position.

"Major's that way. Good to see you again, Amos."

[Amos Iakona]

While Mara's attitude was certainly more constructive and helpful than Miss Midget the Inquisitor over by the access ramp - and her input had provided him with the perfect opportunity to flat-out ignore the irritating-but-cute blonde - the presence of Captain Catsuit left him a little - nervous, was that the right word? He couldn't quite put his finger on a specific reason, but it most certainly left him a little unsettled. Maybe it was the thought that Mara's ability to transform into a massive, feral tiger made him even more concerned about pissing her off; or maybe he was just unsettled by the fact that thus far, Glayde seemed to have assembled a team that was perhaps better suited to Corellia's Next Top Model than to being an effective covert fighting force.

Hell, knowing Glayde he'll be three-for-three, and Selinica is gonna be sat waiting for me back there.

Still, kudos to Glayde for somehow managing to pull it off. After years spent trekking around the galaxy aboard the Queen with it just being him and Jaden Luka, it was kinda nice to see a little lady about the place for a change. And also - he peered towards the containers that Mara was rummaging through - bonus points for bringing lots of cool toys.

Wandering in the direction Mara had indicated, relief struck Amos for two reasons. First of all, the cabin he stepped into contained the Major Pain-in-the-Ass that he was looking for; and second, it was distinctly lacking in Sel. Added bonus - well, maybe not bonus - was the discovery that the team's testosterone count wasn't going to be too heavily compromised.

"SpecForce is certainly better looking than I remember," he stated aloud, heralding his arrival. A mischevious quirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "The uniforms seem to have improved, too. Does the blonde have one of those skintight black numbers as well?"

[Alexander Tur'enne]

"The blonde," Xander interjected, his voice carrying a threatening edge that, were it not completely against every single other aspect of his personality, might have seemed downright manly, "Happens to be my sister."

The threat hung in the air for a moment, and despite his towering stature, and the fact that he could have snapped Xander in-half, one handed, without breaking a sweat, Amos almost looked like he might possibly be thinking about maybe getting a little towards the concerned end of the spectrum. Or at least midly concerned.

"Besides," Alex added; and in an instant, a hint of an impish smile that he couldn't possibly keep from his face, despite his best efforts, crushed any vague, marginal hint of threat that he might possibly have conveyed. "She doesn't have the ass to pull it off. Ain't that right, sis?"

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

A heavy sigh left her as Charles rolled her eyes. While normally some sort of degrading comment would have left her, aimed at Xander without a shred of hesitation, the arrival of someone unfamiliar let her stay her tongue. It didn't stop her from planning a good solid body shot to one of Xander's kidneys when new-guys' back was turned though.

Charles watched Amos for a moment as he headed deeper into the ship for his meeting with the Major and then quickly made good on her plans. The hit to her sibling wasn't as hard as it could have been, but it clearly was enough to gain attention. The cheeky smirk she gave him afterward spoke loud and clear about why he had earned it.

The movement away from Xander before he could retaliate was swift and she managed to place the Captain between herself and her sibling. All that was left now was to pick out her own gear for the mission and wait for the Major and the other guy to tell them when they'd all be getting on with the damn thing.

[John Glayde]

Glayde fought numerous urges. Admittedly, one of the smaller among the selection was the urge to laugh. Mostly though, they centered around inflicting physical harm, either to himself through cranial contact with one of the bulkheads, or to his subordinates in a preferably violent and bloody manner.

He quelled those urges with an ample dose of willpower, but found himself wondering what could possibly have convinced him that making his team into a worse headache by the addition of Amos Iakona. He knew why, of course; a significant consideration had been the lack of alternatives, given how Special Operations didn't want to risk compromising any of its other undercover operatives by having them conduct - or at least assist in - the rescue and extraction. Beyond that though, Sergeant Iakona was one of the SpecForce soldiers he knew he could rely on; even if he had been forced to beat that reliability into him back when they were both Scout Troopers.

"You've been briefed?" he asked; no point wasting time on formalities.

Amos nodded, stifling a slight yawn. "Maren Dirge. SpecOps. Search and retrieval." He shrugged. "They told me the basics."

"Any idea where she is?"

Another shrug fell off the Sergeant's broad shoulders. "In the jungle somewhere, I'm guessing. That's where the Imperials seem to be looking, at any rate." The glare that Glayde fired back would probably have made a lesser man crumble, but Amos just looked mildly amused. "I have some theories," he expanded, arms folding across his chest. "These Scouts aren't as good as we were; they'll be using a standard search pattern, and this Maren person will likely know where the holes are. We should start at the ship; spiral out, and check the places that the Imperials wouldn't have bothered looking."

Glayde nodded, in full agreement with Amos' assessment, and suggestion. He didn't waste any time telling the Sergeant that of course; instead he just jerked his head towards the hatch that Amos had walked through a few moments before, and led the way back towards where the remainder of the team had congregated. He felt a cringe stirring inside him at the sight of Mara, weapons and explosives hanging off her like decorations on a Life Day tree; but he kept his reflex compulsion in check, eyes instead settling on Xander.

"Ride the comms," he instructed, eyebrows rising as he pulled his I want to be very sure that you understand; are you listening? face. "And keep the ship as ready as you can without drawing any undue attention. Knowing our luck, we'll need to make a pretty speedy get-away by the end of this."

His gaze swept around, encompassing Amos, Mara, and Charles. His mind tried to muster up something inspiring to say. It came up empty, not that it mattered: knowing these people, any attempt to rally their spirits with inspirational words would likely be met with either contempt, or hysterics. Instead, he offered something that made him sound every inch the resigned and tired unit commander that he was. "Time to move out. And lets try not to screw up, shall we?"

[Maren Dirge]

In the forests to the west of Lake Paonga, Maren Dirge knelt close to the earth. She held one hand out in front of her, balled into a fist, and pressed it into the rain-sodden, yielding soil. With her fingertips, she drew four dashes from the top of the imprint she had created. When she pulled her hand out of the earth, there was a deep furrow left behind, with the dashes she had drawn stretching from the furrow like spokes – or fingers. She went through the same motions, two feet ahead and a foot and a half to the left of her original impression – and went on like this for a further eight feet of turf. In the end, she looked to look over the trail she had created and nodded to herself. Although the species had never set foot on Naboo, it looked as if an Alderaanian Manka cat had been prowling through the forest, its heavy paws leaving a subtle yet – to the right eyes – unmistakable set of footprints behind it.

A quick glance around and Maren was certain that this was the place. The undergrowth was thick, dense enough that she could slip into the mass of leaves and branches and just about vanish. Crouched low, she scooped up handfuls of mud and began to smear it over the golden shirt she wore, in an effort to make the somewhat flamboyant Naboo Royal Security Forces uniform less obvious. There was no telling how long it would take the Aliance to pick up on her trail, and that made blending in absolutely essential.

[Amos Iakona]

Amos crouched, his trench coat draping across his legs as he peered at the ground beneath his feet. He'd forgone the usual tan and shoulder-plated number he usually wore in favour of something more brown and subdued on this occasion; something a little more likely to help him loose himself in the Naboo jungle.

Granted, it wasn't exactly covert camauflage gear; but it'd do. And besides, if anyone actually came close enough to pose any sort of significant threat, he fully intended to have shot them in the face by then. Several times, preferably.

And maybe once between the legs too, for good measure.

He frowned a little at the dirt pattern on the ground before him, cocking his heavily dreadlocked head to one side as he scrutinised what at first seemed to be an innocent set of animal tracks. Well, innocent was perhaps not the correct word - these tracks clearly belonged to a predator, and Naboo certainly had pleanty of those on offer. He'd only bothered to investigate to evaluate the danger they were in; the tracks weren't fresh, but it was always useful to know if there were any large, murderous cats lurking around in the area, that might try and eat you.

For a moment, his mind strayed to Mara; but when he tried to glance in her direction, he saw her off through the trees, scouting for clues with Glayde. Much closer was the shorter, other woman on the team, whose name Amos had already forgotten completely. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if there was anything non-insulting he could call her; he couldn't even drag a rank from his memory. "Blondie," he called eventually, gruff voice quiet, but carrying well over the distance towards her. He jerked his head, beckoning her over. "Come take a look at this."

[Charlotte Tur'enne]

Wandering about through the woods wasn't her idea of fun. Tracking someone wasn't foreign to Charles, the concept of it being someone friendly at the end of the trail however was pretty new. Usually whenever she was tracking someone there was always a great real threat about that same individual attempting to actually track her at the same moment. There was utmost stealth involved, camouflage was complete, and there was a good chance you would end up staying in one position for extended periods of time. This whole... meandering around the forest, even if the ones on Naboo were rather pleasant, she couldn't get it out of her mind that this sort of group search-and-rescue thing was really something that was better left to the Pathfinders and Rangers.

Speaking of the Rangers... her eyes narrowed at the large man as he called over to her and for a fleeting moment she considered just how much trouble she could get in for having some sort of accident occur with her firearm that would force the brute to have to go spend the rest of the mission on the ship. The sad reality was that they actually needed his help and so she had to play nice.

Mostly.

The casual air of Dorn Force was something she often liked, but Charles had always believed there was a time and a place for silly banter... and even then it had to be with people you trusted. Some members of the Task Force had managed to work their way into that sphere, but this Ranger wasn't one of them. The Blondie comment was ironically disrespectful, and what came out of her mouth next was something that she'd laugh herself silly over later.

"It's Lieutenant to you, Sergeant. And if you can't seem to work whatever pea of a brain is located in that huge melon atop of your neck and get that somehow processed, then I have no reservations about throwing your ass back on the ship." The words came out in a deadly hiss, just audible enough that Iakona would hear.

...pulling Officer rank... nice one, Charles. What's next? Going to threaten to court marshal the guy?

Somehow Charles managed to hold in the laugh that was already trying to work itself into her system as she walked over to where Iakona stood. Of course the moment would have been perfected if she had actually known the significance of the prints he clearly meant for her to see. They were feline, that was certain enough, and a casual glance was tossed over at where the Captain and the Major stood to make sure that there would still be two humanoids shapes standing there.

"So what do you make of it?" The question came out with an air of formality that made her annoyed that she had to keep up, but after her little outburst at the Sergeant, she couldn't exactly just drop into the casual sarcasm of: "So what's up with the kitty prints? You realize we're walking around with someone who can turn into one and she just might be frakking with us, right?" No matter how much she thought it was more appropriate. Maybe if she'd gotten stuck with Glayde it would have happened that way.