<div align="center"><strong>WRI</strong></div><br/>Nichole sat there, rather quiet, mainly because she rarely had anything substantial to say in these briefings. Unlike most of the other mercenaries in the organization, she was more or less barely qualified when it came to the standards of experience and training in comparison to the backgrounds of everyone else. Yet she managed to squeeze on by, one selection after another and so far hadn't completely screwed up a mission yet and thanks to her affable personality, was apparently considered tolerable by others she served with. Plus it wasn't like she was without skills or talents. It's just in comparison to many of her coworkers, her resume was a little shorter.<br/><br/>Fun size perhaps.<br/><br/>It became a bit more pronounced during briefings as she, like now, tended to just sit there with only a slightly glazed look coming over her emerald eyes as she absorbed the particulars of her mission, this one being no exception and thus, such processing gave her little time to formulate an effective discussion that might've assisted her or her team in detailing the mission and its objectives. Thus it took her a moment, after the brief Q & A was over, to actually realize that the briefing was over and she had just said as much. Hating to be the first person to move, she felt it gave her the indication of either being impatient or overeager, both of which she tried to avoid for you ended up fired in one case, or dead in the other, typically speaking, she slowly, in an exaggerated motion, made her way up and off of her seat, hoping that she wasn't being too presumptious as she made her way to the armory to go shopping for the mission.