<strong>Lance Corporal Benjamin Mathias - 3rd Squad - Patched up and ready to fry him up some baddies, extra crispy.</strong><br/><hr/><br/>"Avert your eyes, ladies!" Mathias said loudly as he began removing his suit so Cooper could take a look at his leg.  "I know I'm an eye-full, but I wouldn't want my<em>Olympian</em>proportions to strike you blind!"<br/><br/>The foxy grin nearly took up the entirety of his face, as though he was making up for the fact that his helmet hadn't been designed with expressiveness in mind.  Not that he hadn't made an attempt to convince the engineering staff back at home base that installing some extra servos and maybe some waggling eyebrows to the faceplate wasn't of dire importance to the morale of his squad.<br/><br/>Mathias couldn't help but feel slightly vulnerable whenever he got out of the relative safety of his ape suit, despite having more than served his time without it.  It was less that he feared the idea of death, so much as that beat up old mechanized tin can was a mark of status and pride that he preferred not to go without.  To the contrary, there had been many a day where he could have<em>welcomed</em>an unlucky shot to the head.  But those days were over now, and it was his job to be the big god damn fire-breathing shield at the head of the pack, turning hostiles to blackened sludge and taking the shots meant for his fellow squad members.  He wasn't out to make himself a martyr, but taking punishment was something he'd grown abnormally accustomed to.<br/><br/>Kissing the cross around his neck and slipping it down behind his chest plate, the Lance Corporal pushed his helmet back into place and let the suit pressurize with a sharp hiss.  "So, are we gonna keep actin' like ghouls and pick at the corpses, or shove off and make a few more?  I'm itchin' ta get some fuckin' answers here."