He hated flying. Like, really hated. He could stand it as much as any person could something that they hated, with a fake smile and grinding one's teeth as he fought the urge telling him that he might survive a parachute drop, and leaned back into his seat. This was gonna suck more since he wasn't going to be able to sleep, so he scowled and resigned himself to his fate, wondering if he could ever get black heart to approve sea voyages for their transportation. It wasn't likely, but in his mind, worth it. He moved around the place checking his gear, rechecking it, looking over their skimpy mission parameters, running his eyes over the plane, looking over the dossiers of his teammates, and a hundred other small things that he needed to do to keep his mind off of the 3000 feet of pure air between him and a fiery death.<br/><br/>It was a difficult choice of what to use when going in. Being that they didn't have many hand-held guns the size big enough to kill the critters that they would be running into. Mainly rifles, single action, or light machine guns, all with kicks that made mules seem weak and tripods to help with it. He picked one that he had used before, the Mk 14 EBR. He brought a handful of gadgets that he wasn't sure would be useful, and wouldn't know until he knew more about the critters that they would be hunting down. If they were coldblooded, heat detectors would be useless. If they attacked in the middle of a snowstorm, motion sensors would be useless. He also brought a handful of grenade launchers, simple-use mines, among other treats.<br/><br/>When they finally landed, Tiago was gripping the armrests of his chair with a vice-like grip, ignoring the jeers of the crew of the craft. The moment that it came to a stop, he moved as quickly as he could, without losing his manly and brave appearance, to get the hell off of it.<br/><br/>The cold hit him like a slap on the face. He ignored the slap, as he preferred intense cold to intense heat anyway, and stepped down, greeting the woman there with a nod and a half-hearted salute, unsure if she was his superior, a secretary, or... anything. Always better to show respect, when in doubt. Talking was a little out of the question as, even though he did prefer intense cold, some warm once in a while would not go amiss.<br/><br/>Once they were inside, the warm-blooded Brazilian heaved a sigh of relief, leaving his bags in the hatch with the Sergeant.