Ianthe nodded a wordless response at Darion's order. For all that she'd managed to recover from whatever horrors had gripped her, she nevertheless seemed drained by the experience; alert and ready, but drawn, pale, and hollow-eyed. She paused only to key a quick response to Neymi on her wrist-comp, shielding it with her body to hide it from the others:<span style="color: teal">"Not Kryslin. Camarians and Grey. But whatever you need."</span>Then she was moving again, falling into her practiced tactical advance back in the direction of the weapons lab, covering each bit of shadow with the muzzle of her Shadow Lance long enough to clear it, and occasionally sparing a glance towards the others to maintain her spacing.<br/><br/>Between the growls and whispers over the comms, and the distant crackling of telekinetic energy, she pronounced her judgment of the job in a whisper gauged to carry just to Darion, Toi, and Cypher:<span style="color: teal">"We're not getting paid enough for this bullshit."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>