If Loral could scratch his head, he would have—he settled on rubbing his visor with gloved hands to convey his anxiety. He had the convenience of not being in the absolute thick of the firefight they'd all likely be caught in, but it didn't quite stop the nerves from rising. Hacking wasn't his specialty, but being a quarian definitely meant he'd had more than enough experience in the field to be considered average at it. So, that wasn't something he'd have any reason to be nervous about. It was mainly what lay ahead; no one seemed to know just what they were to do after all of this. Maybe they did and Loral was really catching on; a bunch of Siame data was about to fall in their hands, but what were they going to do with it? Maybe they didn't even have the man power or the expertise to make a dent in Siame Industries and if they didn't, Rebekha would likely swat them away like a fly. That worried him the most and it didn't help that he'd be stuck with a bunch of pirates and outlaws in the end. Loral was certainly proud enough to separate himself from pretty much the entirety of the room, minus the other quarian and maybe the female Drell. He'd done a few morally ambiguous things in his life, but he was obviously either too blinded by ambition and his own goals or the fact that he held too much pride to associate himself with criminals.

Yet, here he was and he'd certainly be no better in the end than any of the criminals that surrounded him.

The thought sent a chill down Loral's spine that urged him to leave, but not in the sense that he quite wanted. Accepting the request and adjusting his omni-tool accordingly, Loral gave the Drell an exasperated look as he stepped over her, forgetting completely about his own visor. He had an assortment of things to pack and he wasn't quite keen on running late, regardless of how long they all had to organize themselves. If anything, Loral was, at his very best, punctual. There was enough time for him to gather his things and go over the layout of the entire station a dozen times; he already knew most of the station, having lived there for the time he had. Being a quarian, he mostly knew where not to step foot and which restaurants and stores sold dextro-protein based food and who to get his equipment from for purifying said foods three to four times over. Quarians were so rare that everyone, especially on Cartagena, found it rather costly to buy proper filtration systems to purify their dextro-protein foods; they almost stopped getting shipments of said food due to the lack of turians, but that was quickly remedied by a sudden and rather suspicious influx not long after. Turians weren't scarce, by any means. Luckily, Loral hadn't made his home on the station when said 'turian shortage' happened. It made him appreciate a safe spot on a what would seem like a harmless ship. The thought of being back on there came with a quick and sudden pain. The frown he wore was hidden by the blue tint of his visor; the slump in his shoulders and slowed pace wasn't as easy to hide.

It took him an hour to pack, and only to waste time. Loral was only patient when it came to his research—anything else needed to be rushed. However, one couldn't necessarily rush a 3 hour wait without doing something wholly stupid and impossible simultaneously. He found himself weighing the risk-reward ratio of that situation as he packed, mindlessly juggling pros and cons of something so ridiculous. Preoccupying oneself seemed to past the time the quickest, which wasn't all that much, to be frank. There were still 2 entire hours to waste away prepping in whatever way possible. Everything he needed was organized in a portable case: all of his medical equipment and personal things were shoved in neatly to conserve the most room. It wasted the most time and helped with his "pre-battle" nerves. He could almost laugh. After packing the essentials, but leaving some room, Loral made for the nearest store for extra dextro-protein based foods for himself, possibly the other quarian, and then the turian, roughly in that order. He didn't necessarily trust a simple roll of the dice; if this one particular Siame ship didn't have a Turian member, then they'd not need to stock up on the necessary food. It didn't matter how much he reminded himself that turians weren't a rare commodity and were actually very abundant in the galaxy. It was better to be cautious.

Gathering what he'd packed, Loral made his way down to the locker they were to leave their things. There really wasn't any need to worry about having anything stolen, especially when they were all supposedly staying together on a ship for an indefinite period of time. Hell, they'd probably die together, but Loral wasn't keen on humoring that thought for more than a second. And, if anyone were to bag it and run, but everything else worked accordingly, Siame's ship would have all the necessary supplies to keep himself healthy and then some. All of that was repeated in a quiet mantra as Loral made his way back to his mini-amalgamation of an office, apartment, and medbay to mull on the plans and further adjust himself.

After going over the schematics and plans a second time, as well as getting a quick bite to eat, Loral gathered the equipment he needed for the mission and made for the hangar they'd meet in. He'd made sure to arrive earlier than he had in the meeting, finding Tanya and Kosso not too far from each other. He made his way to the drell, checking all of his equipment to make sure they'd been properly cleaned and maintained before the mission. If they weren't, then that was his fault, as they obviously didn't have time to waste now.

"Aren't I lucky?" he muttered, holstering his guns and nodding to the drell. The incessant clicking didn't catch Loral's attention as his finger found its way to the holstered pistol's safety, pulling it out slightly to get a better grip. He didn't speak, just remained quiet before any further briefing happened and they were to run off to their designated positions. He made note of the Salarian's absence, though kept his worries to himself. The man seemed a professional and Loral was in no way going to refute that—an easy way to get a bullet in the head, or worse.