He nodded a B., silently thanking her, "You'll be too busy to worry about me B., you're coordinating this whole thing, our defense. Work with Vlad's cousin, keep me in the loop, we're not going to be able to deal with this incursion without you." He smirked, squeezed her hand, "Hell of a long way from running background checks on cheating bastards eh?" His face turned more serious as he glanced towards Rowena, and then back to Barbara, "Keep an eye on her if you can though B., she'll have nothing to do BUT worry. And ...," he paused, heartfelt emotion clear on his face, "thanks."
He turned, went down onto a knee beside Rowena's chair, leaned forward until his forehead touched pressed against hers. The skin felt cool, smooth, her hair tickled his eyes, he looked at her. "You are, without a doubt, the strongest woman I know. When this shit goes down, you are going to see things on those monitors, hear things over the chatter, and they may scare you, shock you. Just know that I'm doing everything I can to keep you safe, everything we've said, everything we've left unsaid, it's still ahead of us, and for the first time in a very long time, I am looking forwards, not backwards. And I have you to thank for that." He pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing it softly, as he did so he squeezed her hand, and then stood up, his mirror shades snapping forward from the housings around his eyes, his face was all business as he walked out of the room, preparing for war.
~
Bryant laughed, the unlit slim dangling from his lips precariously. "If you think gangster is a term of endearment, your mastery of the English language may not be as complete as you think." He clapped a hand on his shoulder, "But if you want a strong willed woman, you've got your work cut out for you. Now lets go see how your men are doing in their prep, I'll want feeds from your cousin's drones patched through to my comm, so I can pull them up in my display if needed. Maps of your territory, updated with co-ordinates of our friendlies, and the merc's."
As he walked, he began shifting his weapons, his Crusader in the shoulder holster on his right side, easy access for a quick draw if needed. The Ingram, his weapon of choice for suppression fire, located at the small of his back, held securely by a maglock holster. His Praetor, his precision weapon slung over his right shoulder, riding his left hip, where it was secured to prevent it from swinging and interfering with the HVAR battle rifle he carried in both hands. The armored vest he wore over his form fit bristled with spare clips, arranged for ease of access.
"We have to assume that they'll try to hit the grid, disrupt our comm's, our power, so protecting those areas should be our priority. Fallback spots, choke points, alternate routes, we need to have those pre-planned and conveyed to our men, so that we can maintain discipline under fire. These guys are trained, but they aren't necessarily professional. The way they opened on the crowd at Washington Rec, sloppy, a professional would have extracted the courier with only minimal civilian casualties. These guys didn't care."
He paused, brought the one handed his rifle, and reached into a thigh pouch, drawing a lighter, he raised an eyebrow to Vlad, and read his subtle nod correctly, he lit the Szczepanski and inhaled deeply, holding it until he felt the burn on that rough spot at the back of his throat. He turned, looked back as the safe room door slid shut with an audible *thunk!* and closed his eyes. He took a moment, turned, exhaled, the smoke curling around his head as he continued to walk beside his host.
"You got your non-com's secured, your sister?"