IC: Brae Tessen

Brae put on her helmet and it hissed as it clamped around her neck and muzzle, the visor glowing a soft orange. The Apatagor pulled up the top of her jumpsuit and zipped it up as she walked over to the shuttles, and checked her prosthesis, knife, and knuckledusters. All good to go.

"I don't mind cleaning Praetorian. Respect your mech and maintain it as you would any weapon." She grumbled, her voice slightly distorted by her helmet.