[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjk2LjAwMDAwMC5TbVYwSUZOMWJHeHBkbUZ1LjA/schkorycza.regular.png[/img][/center][hr]Auron’s crouched figure was locked square within Jet’s sights, his finger itching at the trigger in anticipation of the Hunter’s next move. A half-assed compliment wasn’t a satisfactory surrender. Not in his books, anyway. He wouldn’t put it past the crafty geezer to fatten them up with sweet words before catching them off guard with another one of his wicked haymakers. Vacuans; trust ‘em as far as you can throw ‘em.

Jet caught the salute from Veloce, lowering the rifle to return the gesture. Bird brain had gotten a nice, solid blow on gramps afterall. Everyone performed well. Not something to write home about; he had expected his teammates to be somewhat competent. Still, that small ounce of recognition was nice. He shook his head, perishing the thought. 

Things looked steady down below, the crowd’s excitement over the bout washing over the group. Latching his hook onto the beam, Jet stepped from his perch and gently lowered himself to the ground. The wire reeled back into his wrist with a satisfying [i]snap[/i] whilst he approached the group just in time to hear Turq running his mouth.

“[color=slategray]If nothing else, you made a good stepping stool.[/color]” Jet snickered, readjusting his goggles back onto his forehead. He kept the rifle at the ready, but was otherwise relaxed when addressing Auron.
“[color=slategray]You ain’t an easy mark, Gramps. Annoying as hell.[/color]” He whined, thinking back to those lightning fast reflexes and movements. There was no doubt in his mind; Auron would have kicked his ass had he been up against him alone. Like the others, Jet was curious as to what their overseer would have them do next to prove their mettle.