[center][b]Cindra Dubrovnik[/b][/center]
Cinder sits bolt upright on the bench at the announcement, grinning.  She leaps to her feet, snatching her C-20A canister rifle, grenades, psyblade, and other equipment, opting for her Nyx cloaking device instead of her jetpack.  Upon double-checking her gear at lightning speed, she deploys her headpiece, waiting for it cover the majority of her face before going on the move again.
Scooting out of the glorified locker room, she sprints down the corridor and dodges personnel as she heads for hangar 12.  
[i]Finally, something to do.[/i]
Her smile slowly fades as she gets closer to the bay, though, as she contemplates the possible hazards of this escort mission.
[i]Where are we going for this escort mission?  Could it be a hazardous environment?  Will we have to fight?  Whom are we meeting?  We must be meeting someone, or the admiral himself wouldn't be going...[/i]
Though nobody could possibly read her expression through her mask covering the top half of her face and quite a bit of the bottom half, she schools her expression into mischievous, careless glee out of habit.
Arriving at the hangar, she whips through the doors, sliding to a stop next to the other ghosts on her team.  
The admiral arrives shortly after her, and she hears the team leader ask a question which she, too, wishes to know the answer to.