The introduction of PFC Macdonald drew a mixed reaction from the crew of tankers.

Pedal looked positively thrilled that someone had shown up, a knight in shining armor to help his scheme come through to fruition. The cheshire smile that spread across his face was equal parts joyous and disturbing as he returned the salute. [color=fff200]"Private Pedal, driver. At your disposal."[/color]

Beast was on the verge of having an aneurysm at the idea of being replaced. But the tank gunner clearly wanted no part in helping the 'squishy infantry' in their war game. Rather than follow Pedal's example, she kept herself sitting on the ground and drank from her canteen, offering a halfhearted wave of her hand as greeting. [color=ed1c24]"Still can't load the lance,"[/color] she said to Eyes, screwing the cap back on to the metal cannister.

[color=00a651]"PFC Eyes,"[/color] their third and chief member said, also returning the salute. [color=00a651]"Gallian Home Tanker Brigade. That's Private Beast, our gunner. And [i]that[/i] is our ride."[/color] Eyes nodded at the supply truck at the base of the hill- chalk rounds for the skirmish loaded into the flatbed, and a pair of MPs standing watch over a cup of coffee.

[color=ed1c24]"[i]Your[/i] ride,"[/color] Beast said derisively. [color=ed1c24]"I'm sitting this one out."[/color]

Eyes wasn't in the mood to fight her over the point. They could potentially spend a night in the brig for this, but it wasn't like they'd be lined up and shot- Gallia needed every warm body it had right now. They just had to play by the rules- like Pedal said, make the truck a simulated tank. [color=00a651]"[i]Our[/i] ride, excluding Beast. Can you mount a Lance on a tripod, Private? And is it safe to fire like that going about 25kph?"[/color]