[h2][center]Kat Staten[/center][/h2]

[i]Eighteen.[/i]

The hustle and bustle was music to the American pilot's ears. A crowded hangar was the next best thing to a real fight, in the air [i]or[/i] on the ground. It was the same sort of anticipation, that tingling at the base of your spine and between your shoulderblades that made your muscles coil right up. The hype that made other squadron leaders posture and preen, seasoned pilots grin, and set newbie heart a' fluttering. 

[i]Nineteen[/i].

Some of her peers perched on crates, much to the ire of the support crews, but none seemed [i]quite[/i] so comfortable as Kat Staten laying atop a crate full of live munitions. She needed to do her situps [i]somewhere[/i], and if she did it from the floor she couldn't [i]see[/i] people. The crate kept her closer to eye level, and [i]away[/i] from being underfoot. Everyone vented that hype their own way and hers was to exercise. Do something to [i]actually[/i] get her pulse going, not just [i]thinking[/i] about it. She hated sitting still when that bug got into her system. Never seemed to bother McKnight, though. The blonde pilot hadn't been part of Fox [i]that[/i] long, but long enough to be pretty familiar with the CO [i]before[/i] he was the CO. Hadn't been [i]that[/i] long ago, but not everyone'd remember. The old man, too. Monty had that thrillseeking blood running through him, but he'd been a lot more mellow while she knew him.

The rest were new, at least to Fox. 

So they could be forgiven for thinking that the young woman doing situps was trying to work off some anxiety, especially on such a big day. But Joe and Samuel'd know better. She was keeping her [i]excitement[/i] in check.

Speaking of new blood, though...

[i]Twenty.[/i]

"Real buzzer-beater there, Casablancas." Kat swung her legs off the crate and planted boots firmly on the floor, following the motion into a seated position. She cocked her head a little at the newbie, green eyes glittering with curiosity above the most irreverent of grins. Her elbows were planted on her knees as she leaned in a little, grabbing her water bottle off the floor for a sip. Flight suits weren't exactly great for exercise, so she settled for keeping her tank top on and the suit near. [i]Technically[/i] she wasn't on alert, so she could get away with it. Suits were too damned hot on this island, especially when they were for show. She felt for the guys lead by the peacock brigade. Probably were roasting.

"0900 dead on, I think." She made a show of looking at her watch, grin widening a little. "If you wanna set your watch, Flamenco. Welcome to Macross Island. Nice shades."