Brace.

The moment Dylan hears the word, he is bracing. The smile he worked so hard to welcome their next pick up with, is just gone. In fact, he hasn't even had a chance to introduce himself when suddenly he is holding on for dear life. Then there is the calm, and yet, Dylan doesn't relax. 

Brace.

It happens again. The world, his breakfast, it all threatens to go upside down and Dylan forces his mouth shut, lips pressed hard into each other to avoid turning the contents of his stomach into the new interior decorations of the helicopter. 

The news delivered by the soldiers are met with apprehension and numbness. He blinks a few times. He didn't even care about those stinky cousins. He lowers his head. He didn't care about his uncle. His eyes close. It's a moment, a moment of emotion, of vulnerability. He draws a deep breath, wipes his eyes with his arm. 

“If they know where we are, where we are going... they'll just follow us on our way to Black Dawn, won't they? Or, they'll take us out on our way there. Regardless, this,” he gestures around at the helicopter. “It's very quickly becoming a useless piece of junk.” He looks at Nadia and somehow, manages a smile at her. 

“I don't know about you, but if we're going to have to fight our way back I like our odds with more people than less. I vote we grab at least one more, then we ditch the helo, making it look like it crashed and just hike our way back.” He looks over at one of the soldiers. “Please tell me our destination is not somewhere in the middle of the ocean."