Aibhlinn wasn’t under any guise that as soon as she got out of this little cage all would be well, there were more questions than answers out there in the snow, and she wasn’t entirely certain that she was ready to face them. But freezing out in the open was better than freezing in a prison cell, so the moment the door swung open she stumbled out and caught her hand on its edge, trying to resist the urge to lick at her chapped lips. “I’m fuckin’ pissed is what I am!” To demonstrate, she kicked the side of her container with no reserved aggression. It echoed loudly, but the pitch was dull and died quickly from the snow.<br/><br/>“’Come to Antarctica’, they said, ‘forgotten history unlike anything ye’ ‘ave ever seen’! What a load of horse shit!” Her brogue thickened with her anger, and the green of her eyes flashed with venom as she scanned the icy wasteland for someone to blame. If that unfortunate sod ever showed themselves, they were going to get a taste of her temper and bare-knuckle boxing. It was just snow. The four of them, their containers, and snow. Not even a Yeti.<br/><br/>Damn though, if her head didn’t hurt.<br/><br/>It took a few seconds for her anger to calm down and the unease to return. There was no burning debris to suggest a crash, but there was a faint glow on the horizon, and if the stars were telling her right it was to the west. The plane? She didn’t remember a boom or any sound of impact other than their own. Would have been so strange, even after their fall? And what of the sky? Bannon frowned, staring up at the clear smear of ebony above them. She felt like she was standing in a fairy circle, the little tiny hairs on the back of her neck and arms were climbing up to attention and it wasn’t only due to the cold. This felt… off. She doubted that came from the concussion, Aibhlinn knew she could trust her instincts. So she did. Caution, always.<br/><br/>“Blimey if it isn’t cold…” She allowed herself the opportunity to shiver, but found herself stepping forward instead of standing in one spot. Standing still would only drop her body temperature, and there were still a few cubicles left that might hold survivors. Or not. Best to check them and press on. “I don’t suppose any of you happen to have a gun, would ya?” She called over her shoulder, treading through the snow and to the box closest to her, marked ‘#1’. “I’d feel a whole lot better if one of us sorry sods had something that went bang.” She reached the cubicle, giving it a knock, then felt stupid for doing it. "Marco?" With a boot planted on the edge, she took the door with both hands and wrenched it open.