As the remainder of the enemy ran for their lives - literally - Gabby couldn't help feeling the same kind of satisfaction as Tobias as she saw them rout in the face of what, to them, had to be like angry iron giants tearing through their operation. They'd dropped out of the skies, apropos of nothing, and arrived in a roaring storm of thunder, fire, smoke and death. They were like almost mythical figures, shrugging off firepower and near-effortless in dealing with any threat levelled against them. 
It was [i]dangerously[/i] intoxicating, she thought with a a sobering grimace. She looked down at the BTR's hull in its' drab and rusty metal under her suits' feet, cold realisation prickling all over her tan skin; she'd thrown herself into the moment and it had worked, but it had been an absurdly flamboyant approach, and could have ended up with her cut to pieces by autocannon fire. 
She suppressed an involuntary shiver at the thought, and instead clomped to the edge of the APC's hull and jumped down with an earth-shaking thump, moving to stand close by to Tobias and look over the vista before them. It was impressive, albeit somewhat sad for the ugly scar the mine left on the tropical landscape. Although, luckily, being paid by their employers didn't come with the stipulation that she had to [i]like[/i] what they did especially. 
The urge to pop the suits' helmet was strong, but she resisted; the area wasn't secure [i]enough[/i] just yet, and getting shot in the face by a die-hard sniper wasn't a good way to end the mission. Instead, she followed Tobias' example, checking over her weapons and systems as a kind of calming routine, as much as a necessity, centering her thoughts and emotions through the repetitive actions, before turning and falling into step with the cornishman back toward the other end of the compound. 

"Yeah, I know what you mean, Tob. All that activity and adrenaline, I'm definitely going to have a crash on the way back as I come down from it all. And listening to the tech debriefs and the play-by-play with 'death by powerpoint' accompaniment... like you say, I get the point, but it sure as hell doesn't help with the fatigue." She nodded at his comment about better AC, wiggling a little inside her suit as his words provoked a sudden reminder of, now, how sweaty, itchy and uncomfortable she was inside the bodyglove and padding of the suits' interior. The result was the Stormhound itself doing an odd little dance move before picking back up and walking normally. "Yeah, got a few ideas I'd like to put forward myself after this op. Couple of things that would help with quality of life and efficiency... of course," she said with a snort. "When did the big brains ever listen to us?"