Freya's new situation was enough for even her to wear a frown during the first hour. It bugged her enough to be transferred to a new platoon so hastily, but furthermore she was being shipped off to some stealth op, the worst kind of op. She figured there would be a whole lot of waiting and preparing, and that wasn't what she was about. No, she liked action. However, she also liked her paycheck. For now, she needed another way to entertain herself, and she did always like to know exactly who she was working for. Being a relative newcomer to SEED, she didn't know anyone really well in the platoon. She had heard Duncan's name a few times, but never knew exactly who he was until now. Without any specific or exciting orders -- the only kind she made an effort to follow -- she made the decision to try getting to know Duncan the only way she knew how without throwing her fists at him: rambling on and seeing what kind of person he was.

After waiting through Duncan's short briefing, tapping her uniformed thigh impatiently, she raised her hand. **"Hey, chief."** she called out to him. **"I'm one of the new guys on the block here. Got switched in right before this whole debacle went up, and then started to go down."** She paused for a moment, expression softening into one of contemplation. **"Okay, not switched, since you didn't have to give anything. So really, I'm like a gift, a babe at the doorstep that can walk, talk, punch, use paramagic, the whole bit."** She stopped, and then started talking again after a quick flash of realization. **"Oh, right, my point. Uh, I don't know what to do besides talk to ya man-to-guy-to-anyone-listenin', since nobody's shootin' at me and I don't think this place can be fixed up for anyone. I mean, this scrappy old shelter isn't much better than a dirt nap under a high pier. Not the 'bein' not-alive and buried' kind of dirt nap either, but the 'diggin' a hole out and sleepin' in the sand when your folks are too mad at ya to let ya in late at night,' kind of dirt nap. "**