Still flat on her stomach and neither trusting the silence nor Derrick, although he had positioned himself between her and the possible attacker now, Franka was as uncomfortable as could be. What was this mission? Why drop three, only three, people here, on a mission, and what mission could that be? What if these three didn't return, what would they send next? Wasn't it bad enough to be stuck here with the stinkers and the hunger - and each other? No, now they had to drop some high tech laden military freaks on top of them.<br/><br/>"I am relaxed." She lied. "Just stating what's it going to be if you and your friends try and do me in." She sounded almost cute in her defiance, as that angry whispering in the dark was slightly reminiscent of the kind of late night bickering that happens in the bedroom now and then. Well, almost. Obviously, Franka had rather little to threaten him with in case he should not be Derrick Silva. While, if he was that man, had come for Jasmine, well, then - she needed him to keep his friends off her back, and - well, much as she might try to deny this fact, she'd have a hard time to allow Jasmine's father to get killed, leave alone to be the one responsible for his death.<br/><br/>He was right, though. Since they hadn't even attempted to kill her, either they wouldn't risk the noise or didn't want her dead - yet. "Ok, so they don't want me dead for now. What's it they want, though? Why are they here? Why risk a drop at night if not to avoid being noticed by survivors?" She asked. She intentionally let a few long seconds pass in silence before she answered his last question. "Just that, if you are Derrick Silva, I know why you're here. If you're him, I was right when I thought I had recognised your voice. I'm pretty sure I did, I've been treated to listening to it on a bloody recording often enough to drive anyone insane."