[u]Cordelia Lynn Holmes[/u]

Rather quickly, Pacific Rim fell down a few notches down in her book. Not in terms of raw capabilities, but rather in terms of how immediately threatening he was-responding to what was a pretty clear challenge as if he'd entirely missed it told Lynn this guy wasn't the type that was used to dick measuring contests and throwing haymakers. The alternative was that he was so supremely confident in his abilities he didn't regard her as a threat-however, a lovely little side effect of her facial tattoo was that most people were at least leery of Lynn, and rightfully so. The ratio of people who interacted with her and walked away without having something stolen as opposed to those who didn't was...alarming.

Good voice? Lynn had a disconnected smirk on her face. She'd heard she had a decent voice for other stuff (Cordelia Lynn's great claim to fame was being a white girl that was skilled at rapping), but never when she was being an asshole to someone. And furthermore, the way this guy talked was...weird. He was saying a bunch of stuff sorta robotically, kinda directly. Lynn mused on whether or not he was actually a cyborg-most of the people here, herself included, had endowments leaning towards the supernatural, but maybe this guy was the result of some lab experiment gone wrong. The Feds were doing stuff like that all the time, it made perfect sense. Maybe Tin Man could hack into computers and stuff too. When in doubt, you can't go wrong overestimating your opponent's capabilities. 

But the Iron Giant didn't sound like an opponent, now did he? No, his tone was more of...explaining. Between his explanation, the strange way he moved, and the creepy warbling of his voice when he got too high, Lynn was pretty sure there was a Rain Man type deal going on here-something confirmed by his revealing he was a Doctor. Doctor? Hm. Well, the lizard guy was a doctor, too, but he was in twenties or something. Gauging the age of a metal man was pretty damned impossible, but...oh. Oh shit, that was part of why this guy was so out of touch. Maybe he was like eighty or ninety or something, and like, his metalness made him not age. And it explained why he was wearing a nametag that read "Dick Cocks". Lynn didn't reply for a second or two, trying to put the pieces of this dilemma together (she'd completely ignored Adam's speech, figuring that of all the people here, she needed training the least-she'd been relying on her power day and night for years now). On one side, a God-knows-how-old, armless doctor. Made of metal. Social skills of Stephen Hawking. Has trouble seeing and speaking and shit. Moves slow and probably can't do too much physically with one arm, maybe has trouble jerking it and holding up the nudie mags at the same time. 

Lynn's inferences sometimes get carried away.

And on the other side...well, even with the suit on, Lynn's tattoo and general demeanor weren't exactly inviting. If he knew what the teardrop stood for, and spent about two seconds judging her posture and facial expressions, he'd probably have a good idea of the image she wanted to project: Lynn relied quite heavily on her "don't fuck with me" aura". Warded off people good and bad, prevented getting burned, prevented opening up. ([i]With the exception of Alex.[/i] Shut up.) 

Ah.

The centerpiece, and Lynn so felt like Nancy Drew doing this, had to be the 'separated from his life's work' deal. But he's a doctor. So is he missing his job? How could he do surgery and shit with one arm? Must've been something she was missing. Regardless, Lynn sized up-from his tone and backstory-pretty quickly what his intentions were. Iron Man wanted something, and thought she could help him get it. 

God bless mutually beneficial arrangements.

"Well met, Doc," Lynn finally spoke, analyzing the man quite closely. "Love to hear more about this life's work of yours." Lynn glanced over at Alex, giving her a look of "don't worry, I got this"