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[center][h3]Howard Davis[/h3][/center]

Howard sighed heavily. And shook his had, "Calls to mind very dark memories of the American Indian and First Nations people." He shakes his head and shrugs going back to his drink for now. He can't exactly fault Oliver really. But yeah can't change everyones mind. He just hums then leans forward. Here comes another of the Crazies in this group. Not that he's one to talk. He did business with a whole other group of crazies before. This is just a new batch. It almost felt like he's the only normal one of this crew really. But they all meshed and gelled rather well so why change anything. Crazy can be good.

[center][h3]Ban Kingo[/h3][/center]

Ban got to his feet and went to the fridge, out from it he pulled some pork cutlets and smiled, on went an apron...where he got it anyone has yet to find out. It's like he just pulls it out of thin air. He's even managed to produce it out in the field when he's making scorpion kabobs. And to the counters he goes. Reaching up towards the rack of cooking implements he brought with him. Fine Japanese style cooking ware. Knifes and cleavers that have their own hamon. The knives, forks and tongs cleaned and honed to mirror finishes. Out from the wood block he keeps them in, he looks at the edge then passes a Honing Steel stick over his knives quickly. He nods, "Now let's see...a fine cut. Yes this won't take long."

Ban can be a whirling dervish of death and blood on the battle field. But to see him working in the kitchen, gives another angle to his craft. The Pork is sliced carefully, and added to a pan he's prepared, the sizzle of the meat as it hits the oil, spices and a light sauce he mixed up being added. A back up wok because he failed to get his premium one used with oil and water, various vegetables. He's a ever moving image of precision and care as he works. The scent of cooking food soon filling that corner of the rec room. A grin of pure unadulterated professionalism on his face.

The appetizers are brought out while he's cooking. Grabbing one of the bottles of whiskey at one time. Turning to the crew and with a grin, a turn of his hand and WOOSH! A tower of flame as the whiskey is added to the pork. Crackling and fire and back onto the heat. An artist in the kitchen, a beast on the battlefield.

Before too long he serving plates of well cooked whiskey and homemade hoisin cooked pork slices with a wok cooked vegetables with a hint of a spice. Elegant for something he just tossed together. As he cleans his tools, he watches from the kitchen, the biggest smile on his face as he samples his own creation.

[center][h1]Later during the briefing[/h1][/center]

Ban is finishing clean up and listening closely to the briefing. He hums, "A time locked vault. Expensive. Useful." He sniffs and finishes with his cleaning. Listening close. The Ex-Yakuza's eyes darting around as orders are given. And then they are moving to get kitted up.

Howard moves as soon as the order is given. He's making his way over to his little corner of the armory. He nods to Skye, "Long Rifle, Arctic Ghille, picks and cleats." He nods looking at his equipment, pulling things off the wall. The Lynx of course. Kitted to hit flesh just as hard as it hits materials. In other words there will be quite abit of red mist when he's done. And from the mass of hand made, carefully kept ghilles at white, silver and grey cape ghille, with white, grey, and black toned jacket, shirt, pants and boots. He's quickly dabbing on his Hunters Mask paint. Then grabbing the rest of his kit. A snap-click the bow is small enough to carry across his chest, the quiver at his hip. Tomahawks, bone handle knife, back up carbine. And then the Lynx. And in place of where Howard was shortly before a Yeti. Holding a rifle big enough to take out a light armored vehicle.

Ban is also at his section of the armory. Armor, padded hat, the whole she-bang before he even touches his weapons. His rifle strapped across hia back, machine pistol at his hip. And then with reverence and care he pulls the katana out of it's padded position. A light jerk and the blade slides free, silver edge, with the almost tsunami wave like hamon of the blade gleaming. He checks it for defects, brushing aside abit of fluff from after he drew it. Careful not to touch the mono-molecular edge of the blade. Then with care the scabbard slide back over the blade, and he's belting it to his side.

Their outfitting complete Ban heads to the helipad, using the time to walk there to paint on a a kabuki mask. Waiting by the V22 for the rest of the team before he boards.

Howard joins the early birds at the helipad, decked out in ghille, rifle most apparent held over his shoulder. He looks about, in his off hand he's carrying a parachute pack, ready to strap on and go. He boarded up behind Ban when he does and plunked himself down beside Mazi, "Lasagna ready." He nods to her as he eases down. 

Ban took a seat turning just as he does as Mazi waves at him. He leans over, "Yes Zamiyr-san?" The questions if he could carry the blasting caps is asked and he hums, "I shall give them to you before I enter close combat with the enemy then." He nods taking the wooden box, and carefully placing it within the small combat pack he has on his back, as he perfers to travel light when in combat.