"<span style="font-style: italic">This way, ma'am."</span><br/>Turning her head to see Mary address her, Carrie looks at Judas for an instant before shrugging and following the Wing Sergeant. As she leads the way to the weapons storage, Carrie begins speaking in a rather casual manner, as if nothing was out of the ordinary with her day - which was certainly a big lie.<span style="color: #8040FF">"Lead the way, then, Sergeant."</span>She follows the sergeant closely, but it takes only a few seconds for Carrie to begin speaking again.<span style="color: #8040FF">"I notice your arm is a prosthetic, but it doesn't look like any standard prosthetic I've seen. What is it, a modified TCP-62?"</span>She lets the question hang in the air for a bit, before they finally come to the weapons cabinet. Getting a good look at the rifles, Carrie grabs a carbine model and slings it over her shoulder nonchalantly before taking a fair share of bullets and powder. She seems altogether uninterested in Mary's battle against the lock, and simply goes over to grab not one but two revolvers and an appropriate amount of bullets for this as well.<span style="color: #8040FF">"See, now I feel prepared. Nothing like the weight of shooting iron to give you confindence in the field, right?"</span><br/><br/>She winks at Mary before heading over to the cabinet of mêleé weapons, grabbing a single survival knife and leaving it at that. She then heads out of the weapons storage, stretching a bit. She turns back to Mary.<span style="color: #8040FF">"I'm going to abuse my newfound autority and ask you to stick along for a while, so I can get a better picture of our objectives here, the composition of the expeditionary force, and stuff of the like. No complaint, please."</span>As an afterthought, she adds:<span style="color: #8040FF">"And if that prosthetic ever acts up, come directly to me - I'm a medic as well as a mechanic, so I am well-equipped to handle it. You may consider that an order."</span>She grins at Mary, ever wicked.