Of all the possible reactions to his sudden appearance, being drawn down on was one he had not expected. That combined with the sudden whip-crack of authority in Paige's order jolted him to attention on reflex alone. Doing as he was told, albeit with another wince, he dropped the crates, letting them slam into the floor with a tremendous thud. Before the echo stopped he was already down and into his push-ups without a word.<br/><br/>Once he completed the set he practically lept back to his feet and snatched up the folder as he stood back at attention, only then speaking up. "Sorry about that Sergeant. Engineering corps, specialized and improvised munitions. There's more 'sir's and 'ma'am's on Helheim than there are stripes. I'll try harder to break that habit." It took some effort, but he kept the grin off of his face. His guess had been right, these two were the "shoot first, let BDA ask questions later" type, and he loved the difference already.<br/><br/>"As for those," he inclined his head at the dropped crates, "They're C-grade carbon syeel rods. You'll probably think I'm an escaped Section-eight, but I make them into bolts for my crossbow. No Quartermaster so far has authorized my request to get them made, mostly because they don't believe I have twent six confirmed kills with the thing." He had to admit that keeping the grin off of his face was much harder to do when talking about the effectivenes of his pet project.