"The meat? Just canned Spam. Can't get any decent ham in this battlezone. The Karlslanders get a couple cans every once in a while as part of their iron rations, but they really don't like parting with them." Offhandedly remarked Powers, before taking a closer look at the young Brittanian's face to realize what she was really asking. "No, that isn't rat meat. Not that there are many rats around here to begin with. But no, I have standards when it comes to sandwich making, no rat meat or raw meat of any kind. In fact, I've got a portable grill right on hand and can make wonders with even basic supplies." She gave her Striker's rear radiator a slight pat to point out how well cleaned off it was. Like a iron griddle. "Only issue is butter. Can't get much of the stuff. If you find any, point me to it pretty please? I can cook a lot better than a army kitchen."

When the other officer Witches started flying out, Powers reflexively snapped to attention. Less a practiced motion than a simple body reaction. Powers was used to formality after hanging around Karlslanders, but she tried to slouch a couple centimeters against her usual habit so she could get a look at the other's coming out of the hanger. Certainly an international bunch, with witches from across all of the Allies. And naturally she was at the bottom of the totem pole like miss Siobhan. Fun. It took effort to show even a small grin to match those thoughts though. Smiling wasn't something she naturally did often now.

[i]I REALLY need to loosen up a little.[/i] She inwardly screamed, giving up on Liberion boisterism and standing rigid straight at attention in the presence of officers until called upon.