Georgie struggled against a smirk at Ghost's next barrage of retorts to Shark's cold, defensive comments. Fiery. He could feel the lovely, warm and fuzzy workplace family dynamic growing as Wasp called him a stealth-cat, and Shark gave him a thumbs-up. He hadn't felt like that since his classroom days. So many minds to study and observe. If they could only just do those trust-falls, it would be like a regular old day at the office. At least, he imagined. Georgie had never held a normal job, besides working on the fishing boat with his father, whom he knew inside and out. He missed the sea and boats, the peaceful swaying on the good days, the incredible, awe-inspiring storms and churning on the bad ones. If only cyborg implants could allow Georgie to control the weather. Then he could really be a god. He was, almost.<br/><br/>What Ghost was saying about the focus of the mission was right. This was a very intelligence-based job. Even with the disk<span style="font-style: italic">Georgie</span>had collected, they didn't have enough to stop the device. Georgie wondered how it could even be understood, with its delicate, bright filaments, each thread minuscule. When looking into it, Georgie had gotten entranced. He wasn' one to appreciate art or beauty, besides the curves of a woman's body, but he liked to pretend. This case, of course, had been different.<br/><br/>Wasp's warning excited him. His job would definitely allow him to add to his body count, quite a bit. Any slight suspicious during their mission, and they would be over. Georgie loved the silent deaths the most. He could steal their last words, or any idea that they no longer exist for the longest amount of time.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">A special job?</span>Georgie hoped he didn't perk up too much at those words, like a cheery labrador that had just been thrown a nice bone. He listened with interest, filtering out the boring words and instead focusing on the details. Employee roster, Tuesday guards, and his favourite, kill. He noticed Ghost mentioning her "copying" ability. It was an unusual ability Georgie had never seen before, and it made his skin crawl that she could even copy his own likeness. It should be his, and his right alone to appear in the way he did.<br/><br/>Boats were a topic Georgie understood. He had only ever driven a fishing boat, and a speed boat on occasion, but he understood the theory behind larger vessels, and knew all the important terms. His father had given him a book creatively titled "The Big Book of Boats", that had had so much information on every type of craft imaginable that Georgie had thought his head would explode from trying to memorize it all at the age of eight. He wondered where the book was now. It would probably seem so rudimentary to him now, simple, basic, unimportant. He tried to find words that could paint him as excelling in the field of naval navigation, but not so much that if he failed, he would look idiotic. He hated doing that.<br/><br/>"It depends on the boat, but it should be fairly simple," Georgie replied, chewing his cheek, "If we're to check it out first, then go back for the full kebab, that should give me plenty of chance to get all the information I need. I don't suppose you have any material on secret cyborg-killing supply boats that I could use to brush up on?"