Gerry shook his head when the supposed vampire when she quipped about the beverage he was being offered. Then he shook it again when she refused to shake his hand. He was about to give up when she gave him shit for trying to find out where her head was at. She said something about securing extraction and all that jazz. "You'd call it in, wouldn't you?" he shook his head, he got the impression that this woman was a little too by-the-book for him. She claimed she could work as a team though, that would be nice. And suddenly it was apparently her turn to find out where his head was at. He shrugged and took a deep breath, answering truthfully.

"If the objective is too much, you call up your FAC, and you tell them to stack warthogs every thousand feet and line up for gun runs. Unless you've got F-18's on station. Then you get them to drop a two-thousand pound JDAM on it. Or, if you're lucky, you'll have a Spooky or two in the air, and they can just rain down hell until the target fucks off. If they aren't there, you go look for 'em. And you deal with whatever is there." he shrugged. "If it shoots at you, put fire on it until it dies or fucks off. If it fucks off, run it down. Pretty simple shit. And if someone fucks up, you don't fucking call it in..." the last sentence he uttered a little quieter. He wasn't sure if the director could hear it or not, but he didn't much care. The operator stood up and moved to leave.

"Let's go get my new kit." he suggested to the man in charge, heading for the door. Even if the director had heard what he said, even if he knew exactly what was going through his head when he said it, the man wouldn't do anything. What would he do, anyway? By-the-book was nice, but the field didn't allow for that, and sometimes, even when it did, it wasn't the right way to go. Gerry didn't like the book, anyway. Books were heavy, and in a hostile environment, heavy was bad...