[@Ophidian]

While there were certainly more than a few select choices for Armund to peruse and oggle, the bandaged Alfonse would certainly [b]not[/b] be a viable option for viewing, unless Armund preferred his men [i]à la momie[/i] : dried and scarred, with a side order of bandages drenched in motor oil covering top to toe.

At the sound of his name, Alfonse let out a phlegm-filled cough before stepping up to the table.  Anyone, Arnaud especially, could see the slight furrowing of his brows casting a shadow over the sockets of his eyes as he peered down at the map and dragged clumsily a blunted, oily finger along the tracks.

"I hope you all realize that I am only [i]one[/i] pilot.  The ground and air defenses won't have their eyes on Monsier Jingo here, but if it's during the day, the enemy won't even need a radar to see my plane."

He turns to the rest of the crew.

"Do what you will, but make sure to keep off [i]some[/i] of the enemy fire off of me.  I'll do my job better when I'm not full of holes."