Sitting quietly, irritably, in the cold dark, an irritable looking, dark man sits with a rifle in his arms, Some sort of machine gun strapped across his back, and a large, oddly shaped hunk of metal resembling a revolver across his lower back. All of the items were wrapped in a flimsy plastic wrap, which kept them dry; both his hands were inside the wrap containing the rifle. He spent most of the time listening, wondering if he should get out his night-vision goggles from his bag. Eventually, he decides to slip them over his head, perched lightly on his slicked back black hair. The man might have gone unnoticed in the dark, with the leather jacket slipped over the solid black special operatives uniform. A small handle stuck out of his armpit; obviously a gun. A large handle-shaped lump was in his jacket; one might assume a knife, and they'd be half right. However, the large, odd fellow armed to the teeth was one you wouldn't want to assume things about. Finally, he slips the goggles on, a good light, non protrusive model, and sees his allies in better light. With this sort of smart-work, Heavyarms always felt terribly left out. Instead, he just looked towards the island, barely listening to his allies. "Ah, let him smoke. If nothing else, it gives us something interesting to do, no?" He chuckled, to himself, it would appear. "I'm kidding, smoke later, save them for after real stress... or confirmed boredom... I might join you for the latter, if things keep up as they are..." Though he seemed bored, one might note how his low voice still was held softly, as if cautious and expectant.
