As she stood and listened to the Colonel speak to the others, Sasha stood at idle attention beside the German boy and waited for the storm to pass. Landsfeldt cut an imposing figure with or without his cybernetics, but Sasha knew a good soldier when she saw one. You didn't get to be a man like him without having earned it, and if only for that and the fact that he recognized that she was worth putting into his 'elite team' she gave him the respect he deserved. In contrast to the fidgety Feuer she stood still and patient, her hands crossed below her slight bosom and her eyes watching the Colonel's back as he spoke to her soon-to-be squadmates. He liked them, that much was clear—enough to put up with their eccentricities and their failings, which was impressive enough from a man like him. Enough to call them his 'elite team', and enough to try and breath new life into them.

So be it, as it were. As she followed Feuer into the room, she took the added time to size them up a bit.

It hadn't taken her long to get an impression of the caged animal they called a boy that stood with her in the hallway. He barely knew what to do with himself in uniform, that much was clear—it took all the discipline he had just to stand still, and even then he did it poorly. A hotheaded hotshot of a pilot, but one that could back up his bravado according to what little she'd gleaned about him from what passed for his report, and that wasn't nothing. In Sasha's mind there was nothing wrong with commenting on your own excellence as long as it could be proven, and he seemed so eager to get the chance to prove himself that he was practically jumping out of the black uniform they'd stuffed him in. As he trundled off to get himself changed, she wondered idly if he would have what it would take to 'play nice', orders or no.

The other three, the squad proper, seemed...put out. Perhaps she would too, in their situation. None of them got here by being slackers, and failure was a hard lesson to learn. It seemed to have hit the girl of them hardest. Secretly Sasha was glad for another female in the mix, if only to have someone else to cut the machismo that in her experiences male pilots tended to exude in droves. She caught whiffs of it from Richard, the boy with the glasses, and also from Roman though she could hardly tell why. They all of them looked bored, if not complacent, and as Feuer stalked off to change she found herself making her way to one of the arm chairs.

“What a lively bunch you are.” She offered with a wiggle of her fingers by way of greeting, sinking into the chair with a slight sigh and rolling her shoulders to relax. Tense by training and nature if nothing else, she looked to them idly and smiled past a small scar that tugged at her lip on the left. “Sasha, a pleasure. I'll be providing fire support from the Ulanova. Is he always so brusque?” She added with a gesture of a thumb to the sliding door, indicating the now-absent Colonel. Flicking the buttons at the front of her uniform, she opened it up on one side to reveal a white tank-top and unselfconsciously brought an ankle to the top of her knee, ignoring the skirt of her uniform. Ridiculous, that they had women wear skirts in a military academy, but from what she'd heard this was as much prep-school as anything else.