Issa had started their short trek with quite a bit of space between her and the members of the strike team. Though it wasn't meant to be an outright sign of distrust, it became more obvious once the woman came closing in- the second that bark lit into the air, she leisurely strolled what seemed like a friendly distance between her and the others. She walked just a few steps forward to put herself more off right and center than trailing out and behind. It wouldn't be wise to be caught looking like the obvious new comer, both of the sake of her credibility and for the illusion of cohesiveness.<br/><br/>It was an illusion that kept her close to them as the group moved from the open and into the trailer. Once they were inside, she listened with that pointed attention, the same that she'd given when listening to the odd babble that had served as the group's introduction to her. This time, however, her mind was off of the oddity that was working with a team and was focused back in its comfort zone: her mission.<br/><br/>Once the final detail came about, she looked between Donald and Cross for a moment. Given that Cross had made the first introduction, she felt there were the seeds of an idea already planted. It had started with their first abrupt words with the man in the ill-chosen attire. It was a position of assumed authority with Cross, and one she intended to let this Donald keep for two reasons. One, was already started to be established, regardless of how vague. It'd be wise to let that comfort exist without upsetting. Two, given the industry that he worked in, it was mostly patriarchate in structure. While she could care less about the morality of social constructs, they were simply conveniently identified truths to be exploited as deemed necessary.<br/><br/>"Jesus. Is everyone else alright? Uh. Sorry, boss," she said, the last bit directed at Cross. It was a seemingly benign comment, but one that relayed her intent to stay openly irrelevant in terms of her authority. It also sounded nothing like the woman who had met them. There was a vague bit of worry in what had been cold eyes, and there was somehow more emotion on that placid face. She cleared her throat and gave a nod, as thought she was sorry she'd interrupted.<br/><br/>Issa, however, was far from worried about any trite interruption. She had her mind set on two things: the specimen and the words 'on set'. Set meant where they were filming, did it not? That meant there was video and audio evidence. Or so she intended to find out. And a living breathing specimen exhibiting symptoms? Live evidence was always vastly more telling than recordings. She was eager to see both.