She's one hundred and nine, that's hardly fair. [Her shoulder slumps fractionally under his hand, some held tension going from her. Her eyes narrow in the helmet, but she sounds tartly amused.]

Don't go there indeed, Vakarian. I can always start counting how many shots I've set you up for by sending Chatika to flush some hapless merc from cover.

[She pauses.] You know, when you opened the door I didn't know if I was going to hug or kick you. [And she'd continue I think I picked the right option, but it's audible enough in her tone.]