[center][b][h2][color=f26522]Jonathan McCord[/color][/h2][/b][/center]

Cassandra entered the briefing without her usual bravado, but nonetheless kept her unyielding aura of superiority without saying a word. Jon followed behind and stood with arms crossed as the Colonel presented the details of the mission. Occasionally, Cassandra would lean and motion silently to ask him a question about some detail or military jargon she didn’t understand. The briefings, at least the few that Jon had seen, were kind of unusual in military terms. Wayne never laid out exactly what he wanted his people to do, instead he sort of acted like an intel officer and set out the problems, then when the actual commander should have taken over and assigned ops and talked about strategy, the Knights’ just became an open forum which was slightly amazing and disorienting at the same time. Naturally, the strange-talking Raven was the first to pipe up, hardly able to contain himself as if it were a race to see who could get the floor first. Jon wiped a hand over his face.

The briefing continued and though he knew what was coming, he remained stoic. One of the nicer points about the scrapyard, being scrapper himself, was that it was very easy to act natural. Once he’d threatened to shoot a few of Uncle Mack’s crew if they came anywhere near [i]Ossie[/i], they all got along famously. Jon watched the discussion go around the room. Stolid as he was, it was damned hard to contain a guffaw at the thought of handing over discretion of the nuclear warhead to the haughty Lyran woman. He thought Cassandra might have noticed him flinch a little and she smirked. However the idea of a pocket-sized mechwarrior vaporizing all of them with a pocket nuke was not nearly as comical as the talk of “honors of war” and so on. He didn’t care about any of that. Victory would go to whoever could be the most feral bastard still standing. If the “Crimson King” showed him his front plate, he was going to shoot. A Battlemaster had a nice armaglass cockpit as big as a barn. Out to 500 meters it would be damn near like standing right in front of the target. He caught Marit’s glance and winked back at her.

Cassandra again pulled at his shirt and he leaned in to listen as the plans were apparently made by the Knights. From a distance her expression could be seen to lighten and then narrow into a fierce smirk as Jon whispered something back. She again patted him on the shoulder like a loyal pet. Smiling was an unusual tell for her and it was gone in an instant as she spoke up: “[color=ed145b]I will handle the negotiations with the FPA, Colonel.[/color]” She said, her tone was one that easily cut over all others, honed from years of politics and people on Espia and beyond. A company of mercenaries might as well have been a kindergarten class and she was fairly confident a few liked to eat crayons. “[color=ed145b]I will allow Jonathan and his mech to accompany the Green Knights for this mission, however-[/color]” Her face was cooler and businesslike again. This was her element and she did indeed [i]own the place[/i]. “[color=ed145b]While I am disposed with the FPA, he is only to report directly to you Colonel, [i]no one else[/i].[/color]”     

Jon surveyed the room for a moment, gauging the reactions and keeping quiet. No one had to like Cassandra and it was pretty obvious from what he had seen in his time on world that she had a certain disdain for younger females whether they were in her employ or otherwise. On top of this, for the Knights she also represented [i]the bank[/i] and would see them paid if or when this was successful. He had no doubt she had a backup plan. She was definitely that thorough and was one of the smartest people he ever met, whether or not those plans included him was another thing altogether.