The siblings exchanged a glance as they climbed in the transport.  It was not the first such vehicle they'd been in: serving in the Swiss army since war had broken out almost two years before, they were quite familiar with the military, even though they'd not seen many pitched battles.  Izkry then took a better look at his new fellows in arms.  Belasý hadn't stopped assessing them since they'd arrived.  A few were quite young, and most were about their age, somewhere in their twenties.  The Japanese woman was tiny, even though she seemed to be an adult.  Belasý wondered how she'd ended up so far from home.  Had the Axis powers in Japan forced her out as well?  She wouldn't be surprised if they had.  But if she was here, she had to have some sort of ability, and that made her highly questionable.  It was the same for the tiny little Polish girl, who was almost as quiet as Belasý herself.  The Spaniard was nervous, then suddenly not, and she was instantly on guard against him.  He bothered her, something about him just didn't seem right.  A hint of a smile crossed her lips as the Frenchman made a reassuring comment that was entirely false.  She'd seen him with a rifle case, and the memory made her wonder yet again how good a shot he was.  Perhaps she'd get to see.  The man with the glasses looked as out of place as the tiny ladies, like he should be at a desk and not on the field.  But he had a power, and thus he must be dangerous.  Belasý had decided she would not underestimate him, and took pains to remind herself of that.

Izkry clapped the young English noble sitting next to him on the back as he commented on his fear.  "You will be fine.  Perhaps if I catch you, it will be less scary?"  The man was handsome, in a quiet way, though he clearly had not done much fighting.  Most soldiers had a look in their eye.  He could see it in his sister's, at times, but part of that had always been there, ever since the disaster as children.  Izkry himself could not be kept down, and even the time they'd spent on the front had not dampened his spirits, so he did his best to keep others cheerful as well.  The tiny girl beyond giggled, though she did it without sound, which was interesting.  Izkry flashed her a wide smile.  "It is good to see someone else still laughing," he told her, still using English, "even when you are scared.  Do not forget laughter.  It is precious."

The man -- Henry -- introduced himself, and the girl did not reply immediately.  Izkry decided to fill the pause.  "I am Izkry," he told them, with a slight bob of his head.  "Or at least people call me that."  A nudge from his sister made him glance over at her, and then nod.  "My sister, Belasý."  The nicknames were Slovak, but they'd stuck.  Aron had given them to just about everyone.  "Henry is your real name, or your cover?" he asked.  "Remember, this is an undercover mission.  Better to be familiar with the name we must answer to if things go wrong, instead of our real one.  For us, we have nicknames that are nothing like our real ones.  But if I was giving you my name-name, I would say we are Izaak and Mieli Meyer, not...not the ones we were given as children."

Beside him, Belasý tensed.  She did not like even recalling her birth name.  At the center, she'd been given a code.  That one she had not even mentioned, not since escaping.  But her birth name was tied to that day on the ice.  The day she'd found out she was a monster.  She would not use it, would not even answer to it.  The young woman let her outgoing brother chat, and looked again at the Frenchman, the sniper.  He thought they were inexperienced.  She could tell -- he had that faintly amused, faintly condescending manner of veteran soldiers looking at newcomers.  When she felt his gaze on her, she brushed her dark hair aside, just for a moment, and met his eyes with her startlingly blue ones.  Just for a moment, the cold determination she felt in battle flashed at him, coupled with defiance, almost a challenge.  She was not nervous, not about fighting.  She was less afraid than she would be back at home in Switzerland, going to her job, worrying about rent.  She was a monster, just like him, and Jean should remember that.

But that lasted only a moment before she dropped both gaze and hand, without a word spoken.  It fell to Izkry to say, "Nice to meet you, Jean."  He managed to get the pronunciation at least close to its proper French.  "...Perhaps a little nervous, but that keeps you sharp.  I would be far more worried if I was not."