<br/><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Ren Colbert<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Airfield<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>open<br/><hr/><br/><br/>Renate had pretty much ignored the German's outburst, just shooting her a raised eyebrow. She knew the type- a woman who had to be more than just one of the boys, had to be<strong>the</strong>boy. The biggest mouth, the baddest ass, the swingingest dick. She was the same herself- had had to be. Even now, in these days of 'diversity' and 'equality', being a chick in a military or paramilitary outfit was like being a bunny rabbit at a cobra sleepover.<br/><br/>Colbert's manners were just better, possibly a result of not having the two-pack-a-day habit most Europeans she'd met had to live with. Whatever. There might be a time and a place later to sort out who had the sharper claws; this wasn't it.<br/><br/>Geoff looked tired, strained, though his handshake was a no-bullshit as ever. They hadn't been close at all, barely even friendly, but they'd found each other up early on the Quantico range a few times during a joint training thing, had talked shop a fair bit.  Hard, quiet, a damn good shot.  If whatever was up had him losing sleep, maybe she'd better plan to stock up.<br/><br/>Nodding at her new cadre chief, she followed his not-quite order, and followed some of the others towards the hangar. Already, the smell of coffee was reaching her; she'd be a bitch, too, if someone joggled her and made her spill her cup.  The Kraut could be forgiven.<br/><br/>Once.