[center][color=007236][h1]Zenobia Vartius[/h1][/color]
[color=662d91][h1]Solveig Wistrom[/h1][/color]
[i][h3]"Roll for Initiative"[/h3][/i]
[/center]
[hr]

[u][i]Havana Spaceport[/i][/u]

“I could have gotten the shuttle myself,” Solveig said - tone dry as ever, a small sigh punctuated.

“Probably but I’m pretty sure I’d get yelled at if I spent the mission sleeping in the smoking lounge. Besides, could be fun!” Zenobia responded, not missing a beat with energy and enthusiasm. They would need both of those things.

Solveig sighed again, she’d at least rinsed off in the shower before leaving, it did feel better to wash the last couple of days off, that was for sure. Not one to miss a detail, she spied the shadows under the door of the Spaceport and her brow quirked; “Don’t think that’s what we were expecting, no?” she said, drawing into herself with a slow, purposeful breath as she readied herself. “Tell me what you’re good at,” she said again - the intention to learn about Zenobia’s skills - the execution… simply rude.

The turian cracked her knuckles, sparks of biotic energy flying from between her fingers. “Breach tactics, frontal assault, shock and awe. Pick your poison, so long as I can get my hands dirty.” If the Turian was cautious after spotting those shadows, she didn’t show it. If anything, she seemed eager to jump in and take them on, damn the consequences. She made a finger gun and tracked it at the door. “I say we make this easy; I go in swinging, you go nuts while they’re all running scared. Pop pop pop.”

Truthfully, that was exactly what Sol wanted. She knew battle, and she felt something rising - a feeling, anger, emotions - swirling. She felt the familiar sting of her arm. As if Zen’s energy caught her and brought her to life. “Pop?” Sol raised her brow again, but began stepping back as if to clear the way for the Turian, natural as anything. “Pop.” she affirmed, motioning to the door, and then her tactical cloak was down - she was a ghost.

Zenobia was not.

Taking no care to make herself hidden or subtle, she strode right up to the door, flexed her neck for a moment, then kicked the lock mechanism to blow open the door in style.

“Housekeeping!”