<strong>Pvt. Angelina DeSilva - 1st Squad - inside downed dropship</strong><br/><br/>Angelina stood momentarily motionless at the top of the loading ramp, her stomach clenching sourly, while all around her the others were acting out in varying degrees of agitation and order. With her pause in activity, she noticed that the deep welts etched into the tender skin of her chest from the restraining harness were starting to sting as beads of moisture began to trickle in unpleasant rivulets under most of her clothing.<br/><br/>The sudden burst of thunder from Rome’s M56 startled her back into action, and she instinctively whipped her pulse rifle into business mode from its position slung over her back, finger clicking off the safety as she pointed the muzzle to match the direction Rome was aiming in, her heart thudding in her chest.  Dark hair flew riotously around her face as her head jerked from left to right, frantically peering out into the dense greenery trying to ascertain if he was actually shooting at something or just freaking out. His face a mask of rage, the firecracking of the smartgun seemed to continue an unnatural length of time, until he finally expended the full canister of rounds, mowing down a half-moon clearing in the jungle out at the back of the ship.  Angelina shook her head at the extra dose of drama, calming her pounding heart as she thumbed the safety back on and slung her pulse rifle back into position over her shoulder.<br/><br/><strong>"ROME! CEASE FIRE!"</strong>Master Sergeant O’Shay had hollered above the deafening discharge of the smartgun. Stomping up to the Sarge, Rome’s threatening glare and vitriol didn’t seem to phase the other man. As the only new member of the squad, Angelina didn’t know any of them well enough - or their relationships with each other - to feel confident about stepping in to ease Rome’s confrontation with O’Shay, so instead she moved to make herself useful elsewhere.<br/><br/>Working beside Senjo as she quickly and efficiently salvaged everything possible from the fallen ship and marines, they gathered anything useful and relocated them in organized piles outside the ship. Finally, Rome ended his tirade and again exited the ship.  Angelina accepted the belt pouches of medical supplies that Senjo handed her, and moved to follow after Rome’s retreating broad back. The man was a giant, but he wasn’t invulnerable to injury. He had been sitting next to her in the dropship, and she saw the hard knock he took to his head and the bloody cut gouged into his bicep.  Stepping up right beside him, she didn’t think he even noticed her there and didn’t want to get hammered out of any instinctive reaction he might have. “Hey, Rome, I’m gonna dress that wound you got there, so don’t fucking freak out on me, okay?”  Pulling out some antiseptic wipes from the supplies Senjo had salvaged, she gently but efficiently cleaned the cut as good as she could. Growling to make sure he didn’t give her any grief about it, she made her point clear, “You don’t want some fucking jungle rot to take hold in an open wound, take my word for it. It ain’t pretty, and I know how you like to keep your pretty.”  Relieved that it wasn’t serious enough to require sutures, she smeared antibiotic ointment over the cut and covered it with non-adherent sterile dressing held in place with adhesive tape. Concern flitting over her eyes at his unresponsiveness, she stashed the supplies back in the pouches and secured them in the webbing of her uniform.<br/><br/>Since she figured she was the one least effected emotionally by the deaths, Angelina moved to assist Yui as she bagged and dragged the bodies from the ship, where they laid them to rest as respectfully as they could under the circumstances. She hadn’t really known any of the dead, but she still felt their loss acutely since they were now down three men that they could have really used in this fucked-up situation, and she knew that her squad would take the deaths hard. It was never easy to lose a fellow marine.<br/><br/>As they conducted their makeshift burial expediently, Angelina’s glance watched the members of her squad closely. Handling mayhem, death, extreme situations...it was all in the job description of being a marine.  But still, if someone lost it during a FUBAR mission, a marine turning into a loose cannon could easily take down the rest of the surviving team. She didn’t think that was the case - these marines were hard core through and through - but still, being the only one without emotional attachment to the dead, she was in the best position to objectively observe for any chinks in their emotional armor. Well, except of course for Senjo. Speaking of which, as Angelina’s gaze swept over the synthetic’s lovely face as she watched the burial process, she would have sworn the synthetic’s expression appeared almost...wistful. Shaking her head to clear any residual fog muddying her thoughts, she ridiculed herself for projecting emotions onto a machine.<br/><br/><strong>”Fucking machine.”</strong>Almost as if he spoke the word from her own mind, Rome’s growled curse had her thankful that Senjo was immune to emotional injury.  Taking a quick measure of the emotional state of the<em>human</em>members of her squad, she started to feel her chest release some of the tense constriction she had been holding there. Sergeant O’Shay appeared in control. She had confidence Rome would quickly work his way back from dousing his pain in the flames of rage. And when she saw Yui’s hands lovingly readying her flamethrower, an eager smile on her face, Angelina knew the team would be alright, each marine finding their own unique way to safely stash their heartbreak in their own personal hurt lockers, at least for the time being. They would be good to go, whatever the next command.<br/>