"[color=lightblue]This doesn't look the way to cover,[/color]" Miles stated glumly, his gaze out the front of the van moving to Nobody. The crappy music pounded in his ears and he rubbed at his face. Well, he wasn't the driver. So, he shook his head and finally stepped up front to buckle into the passenger seat. As Nobody drove, he silently doubled checked his guns' ammo. Twelve rounds each, should be more than enough if he was dragged into a fight. Though, by the sound of Maja's description, he'd be fine with far less than that. 

Sighing melodramatically, he leaned against the door, glaring out the window like a moody teenager who just lost the front seat to her younger brother. He didn't enjoy talking to Nobody and his abstract ways of communication, so he remained silent, trying to figure out where they had slipped up for the enemy to act so quickly.