Gabby had elected not to suit up immediately as the Osprey chuntered its' way across the jungle below. The Stormhound wasn't especially build for comfort, and the more bulky and angular powered exoskeleton didn't lend itself to sitting or reclining in any fashion, particularly. Instead, the tall, powerfully built Israeli was lounged across a few of the fold-down seats on the opposite side of the bay from Tobias, the Stormhound standing to her immediate right with its' back yawning open, ready to close around her at a moments' notice. 
The dusky-skinned, dark-haired woman listened in to the communication, smiling in amusement as the music came across, and getting to her feet as the conversation continued. As Bluestone ran over the specifics, she climbed into position. The padded interior layer of the suit rested against her front, and both arms slid down into the suits over-sized gloves with their 'waldo' style arm manipulators. Her feet were cushioned by and rested on stilt-like extensions, and with a few carefully chosen commands and movements, the suits' back folded down and locked into place with a hiss of equalising pressure seals. A low hum came from the backpack as the exoskeleton came to life, and stood under its' own weight, a little hunched under the ceiling of the V-22's cargo bay. 
"Like a virgin taking home the prom queen" she replied over their radio channel as she followed suit, checking her suits' systems. She went over her own gear with the same meticulous precision as her partner; checking the feed on the M134 on her right arm and the auto shotgun on her left. Likewise, the aerial insertion gear all read true, which gave her a brief sense of mental relief. However, the thought of dropping out of the sky encased in as mass of metal soon subdued it. She rolled her shoulders and twisted her hips slightly; as always, as soon as the suit was sealed around her was the exact moment she found - or rather, felt - a crease or rucked-up bit of fabric in her piloting suit, or some damn itch or tingle that couldn't be dealt with. But it was all part of the job. 
"I suppose it's too late to go to the bathroom," she said deadpan, flexing her arms and twisting in small arcs with a whine of servomotors and hydraulics, the orange polarised visor of her suit turning towards Tobias as if he could see her smile through it.