There was something about being in a flying metal box with volitile, angry super-powered humans about to go on a witch hunt for an angrier super-powered human of unknown volitility made Stitches a touch nervous. Just a touch. Who was she kidding? She was terified. Why would you send so many people for this one woman? They clearly didn't think we'd all make it back in one piece. This didn't seem to occur to everyone else or they wouldn't be having such a petty dispute about who was the most powerful when It was pretty obvious who that was as she climbed on board. Stitches gripped the small vial of her own AB-type blood which swirled erratically and with no respect for the laws of gravity, attempting to free itself of its containment to defend its master.

The dispute grew more violent, escalating to an actual dick waving competition which only made Stitches more anxious. These were the people she had to depend on to protect and back her up in a real fight. the target was going to be a doddle compared to surviving this lot. The pre-mission stress was getting to her, she needed to talk to a sane human being who might also understand the gravity of the situation, or atleast not want to talkabout who has the biggest power-penis. As she climbed on Linn rushed out, drawing attention on a ghostly silent Magara, who must be having a ball with the testorone and fear being so high. She settled next to Press, who was as sane as it gets here and hoped they could engage in some reassuring and/or sensible discussion about what was about to go on because this was the most unplanned thing she'd done in a long time and Stitches needed contingency plans up to about plan G before she was about to get comfortable.

"You don't seem that nervous about putting your head on the line to catch a potentially dangerous individual, whats your secret?"