"Couldn'ta freed us [i]before[/i] I broke me thumb?" the Ork Hunter grumbled.
He rubbed his sore hand as he stood and stared with narrowed eyes at the weapon on the ground. He shifted his gaze to the Major and fixed him with a suspicious glare. Rescue was not something his regiment knew. If an Ork Hunter is swallowed by the jungle the only people they can rely on is themselves and maybe their squadmates. He didn't trust these "shadow order" eejits even before they tossed the body of an Inquisitor to the floor.

Nothing made sense and he hated it. Things were simple back home. In The Green, you see an Ork and you shoot or stab it until it stops moving. Grett had done his job and done it well for more than a third of his life. He was a loyal soldier so anyone who'd kidnap and torture a loyal soldier wasn't one. In fact, that'd make them an enemy. There was no question that he'd like to give every one of these traitor Inquisitors a lasgun lobotomy, but he didn't trust his supposed "rescuers" for a second.

Still, they had given them weapons and freed them so they were at least not his list of things to maim and kill. His eyes didn't leave the Major or his company as cracked his thumb back into place and retrieved a lasgun off the ground. His gaze only momentarily flicked down to check his weapon was ready before he was glaring at the major again.
"Alright, but if you lot think I'm gonna be in front so you can shoot me in the back of the 'ead just before we leave then you got Squig shit for brains."