Kate's dark eyes met Kyle's and a sly wink would be given to him as he spoke about a round of drinks. A nice cold beer would be lovely...<br/><br/>...Finally back outside, readying to slip back into the passenger seat without even calling shotgun, (she figured at this point it was pretty much implied!), she listened to the orders once more given to them by MacCleary. Settling into the highly uncomfortable seat, slender fingers slipped on one of the headsets while the other hand situated her weapon into a better spot, readying for Pjotr's driving. Soon enough they were off, and it was obvious the Russian relished taking his driving to the limit. The radio battle between MacCleary and Pjotr and the subsequent careening of the Marauder through a gully brought another bark of laughter, even as the Russian practically put his foot through the floorboard as he gunned into further to life. Then MacCleary was screaming into the com and the Marauder was slowing down, and SHE was the one being glared at! Oh but she met Pjotr's gaze, and a dark brow would loft. There was nothing malicious in her return gaze, but perhaps there was a bit of confusion. Why<em>had</em>he sped up? Surely he understood English better then he spoke it. As he handed her the reigns she would simply nod, easing off the head radio and taking over the hand-held. Silently Kate would watch as he made his way to the top gunner position, then those dark, gleaming orbs would settle on each of the crew members, the silence itself almost deafening, until her cool velvety timbre broke it. “ Change in plans indeed. Hold on kids, momma's driving now...” chuckling low, she would turn to grasp the wheel, hearing the voice of MacCleary crackling over the radio.<br/><br/>*SHRKT* "Alright. Who's our next contestant? Over."<br/><br/>“ Kate here. Sir. Over.”<br/><br/>*SHRKT* "Well, at least you don't sound like you're trying to talk around a bag of otter testicles. Now, bring'er up to thirty, and remember to keep an eye on the skies. Over."<br/><br/>“I prefer my testicles to be of the human persuasion. And talking means you're not doing it right. Thirty, and eyes are peeled. Sir. Over.”<br/>