Something civilian. No, she hadn't considered that. As the freighter settles with its automated docking guidance, she raises her left arm, examining the small display built into the wristguard. She flips through a few of the screens on the panel, and begins to tapping on the screen, features of the suit changing for her whims. The blues of her suit fade into a pale, faded yellow, like the deserts of Houston. The Liberty eagles and other familiar markings blink out, before the lighted fibers flash the flag of a mercenary company no one has ever heard of.
"I suppose you can call it civilian." She says only to herself, lowering her arm. Hidden under her helmet, she unconsciously frowns at her new appearance, and carries on out of the ship, right hand loosely resting on her sidearm. She stops, and considers herself for a moment as she stands before the rear bay doors of the Dromedary. Deep inhale, deeper exhale. She lowers her hand, and relaxes her otherwise overly serious posture, letting her shoulders slip forwards, and dipping her chin down just slightly.
The agent presses her half-clenched fist against the control panel, and the rear airlock opens with a considerable rumble, and a low hiss. The rear ramp begins to settle itself on the floor of the station, and she prepares herself her meeting with the most dangerous snake in Liberty.
