Myrina snickered as she caught the exchange between the tiger and the security guards. Compared to her neck of the woods, the security was noticeably light. But she supposed that was to be expected, when more resources needed to be allocated to the more 'hot' regions around the fringes of Landren. Indeed, she'd had to play that security role more times than she could recount, although she prided herself on having done a much more professional job. Myrina continued down the walk, tilting her cap down to impair the swirling dust from nipping at her face. She toted her belongings over her shoulder in a green, surplus duffle bag, which had "Cheshire Militia" stamped on it to mark her district. Much of the gear she brought along were her holdovers from the militia; the LDF hadn't issued her much in fact. Maybe it was assumed she didn't need to replace any of it. Fortunately, Myrina's belongings were still in working condition. Whatever she needed she'd probably find on the [i]Parvan's Claw[/i]. 

The ridiculed guard straightened himself out by the time Myrina reached the checkpoint, and she flashed him her identification with a glint of her teeth and a teasing "I'm with him!" Wearily, he let her in without incident. Her eyes lingered on the [i]'Claw[/i] as she stepped through, taking in its breadth and complexity of its design. She'd never worked with something as massive before, and although she'd seen the photographs, standing next to the real thing was a much different experience. Clustered on the ramp of the metal leviathan was a group in BDUs, who she reasonably assumed to be her new unit. Myrina picked up her pack and fell in next to a bat who'd arrived a few seconds before.

"Warrant Officer Myrina Michelete, reporting in, Sir!" Myrina's salute was perhaps not so textbook and finely-tuned as the pilot to her right, although she though it formal enough. By the way the Colonel looked, he wasn't much of a "prim and proper" type, which suited her just fine. A dart of her eyes around the company that had arrived earlier revealed sets of grim, hard-edged faces. The jackal, for one, looked as cold as a stone, and unnaturally attentive and the lynx was just as stern. "What's everyone so dour for?" she whispered to herself; only loudly enough perhaps, for the bat at her immediate shoulder and the Colonel himself to pick up.