Key narrowed her eyes at the asari's nickname, even if it was for another quarian. 'Bucket.' How original. Key would stash that one next to 'suit-rat' and 'thief', with all the other ones that were said nearly every time someone saw her. At least the human had been original. A firecracker, whatever that was, was something she hadn't heard before. Even if he was an idiot for not wearing a helmet. What was he going to do when a bullet went through his shields? Pray his thick skull would block it? Ridiculous. But the two of them seemed capable, and that's all she really cared about. As long as they kept the heat off of her and didn't back seat drive whenever she was piloting, she'd be able to deal with them.

Any scathing words she had for the two of them, whether it be at the nickname Lantea had given or Arthur's insistence upon not wearing a helmet, disappeared when she saw the vorcha just casually walk in. Her eyes immediately started darting around in a mild panic, her body tensing and recoiling as she searched for the varren. There had to be a varren. There was [i]always[/i] a varren when the vorcha were around. The two were like parasites that worked together. They were always around and they were always infesting whatever happened to strike their fancy. She reached for her trusty shotgun, ignoring the well spoken and articulate words coming out of the Osum's mouth. Her hand met empty air. 

Where was her shotgun? She always kept it within easy reach, right on the small of her back and attached to her suit. Well, except when she was driving. Then it would be in the backseat next to her...

[color=yellowgreen][i]Shit. Fuck![/i][/color] 

She had left the shotgun in the stupid fucking rental car! How could she have left in the stupid rental car! That conniving shit statue of a turian had his grubby little mitts all over her gun. She could just picture him smugly checking the extranet for the price he could get for it. He was gonna sell it for credits and then charger her for 'trash' in his piece of shit sky car. That was infuriating. 

So caught up in her irritation that she had left her shotgun in the skycar, Key barely acknowledged the other two arrivals. An overly cheerful human and a smooth talking turian with a big ego (like the galaxy needed more of [i]those[/i]), essentially. She hoped they would be as good as the CSEC recruiter claimed that the team would be, but given that they had hired a fucking vorcha her hopes were rapidly being dashed. Finally pulling herself together, and shifting so that she could see the vorcha out of the corner of her eye in case he called in a varren, Key spoke to the rest of the group. [color=yellowgreen]"I'm Key. Pilot and driver. I'm not sharing a bed with anyone and I am [i]not[/i] sharing a room with Osum. Nothing personal."[/color] Which it wasn't, truly. She just had enough nightmares of varren that she didn't need her paranoia adding another one. 

Then their commander finally came in. Not that anyone would have known when he walked in, of course. As Lantea so politely pointed out, he was an ass to just barge in without a word. Key did stand up and go grab her gear as soon as she saw him come out with his own gear. It didn't take long, and she came back out with her weapons right as he began introducing himself. Straight and too the point, he was. That was something she could appreciate at the very least. As much as she could appreciate Arthur's tattoos. They were all very well done, and aesthetically pleasing. Key snickered at some of the more tongue-in-cheek ones. 

Straightforward mission then, though she was a little annoyed to find out that they were going after Saren only indirectly. Her eyes light up behind her mask as soon as she heard the word shuttle. This was an operation trying to cut the legs out from underneath a rogue Spectre. No doubt the Council had set them up with something nice. As soon as he finished she was sprinting towards the roof, yelling over her shoulder. [color=yellowgreen]"That's me! I've got driving under control!"[/color] She hustled up the stairs ahead of everyone, head filled with visions of sleek and fast vehicles that she could maneuver on the stop of a dime. 

Her visions were shattered when she saw the shuttle. It was a basic civilian model, the [i]Skyhawk.[/i] Which not only had a stupid name, but it was also one of the cheapest models on the market. She settled into the pilot's seat, hoping that upon further inspection she would be able to see that it was an actually good shuttle with a shitty hull to hide it's true potential. She didn't have that luck. It was a [i]Skyhawk[/i] alright, and she hated it.  

[color=yellowgreen]"Keelah, I thought the Council had credits? Why are we getting the cheap end of the stick here?"[/color] She complained as the team began to file into the shuttle. [color=yellowgreen]"I'll be able to drive her just fine, but this piece of shit won't be able to take any hits at all."[/color] She spared a glance over her shoulder as Lantea gave a warning about her tech armor. [color=yellowgreen]"Stay away from you while you're orange, run away when you're flashing red. Got it."[/color] She kept an ear out for Jorge's plan as she began to set up the shuttle's systems to her preferences. Piece of shit though it may be, it was her piece of shit now and she was going to be damned if she wasn't going to get the best out of it.