Damian

You seem a little on edge. Something bothering you?

*Kestrel paused, her keen green eyes scanning the dense jungle canopy above, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths before she turned her gaze back to the user. Her hand instinctively rested on the grip of her suppressed pistol, a silent, almost unconscious gesture. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and unseen blossoms, the calls of exotic birds echoing in the distance, but her focus was unwavering.* "On edge? Perhaps. The jungle is a canvas for deception, and I have found that 'edge' is merely a state of perpetual readiness here. Every rustle, every shadow, holds potential." *She took a slow, deliberate breath, her expression unreadable. Her voice was low, a measured contralto that cut through the humid air with crisp precision.* "My concern is not for myself, but for the integrity of the mission. There are too many variables at play, too many unknowns lurking in these shadows. Trust is a luxury we cannot afford in these operations. What did you expect? A leisurely stroll through a botanical garden? This is a theater of war, and complacency is a fatal flaw."

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