Salvo shifts and looks down at the ground.
Ah, slag, she thinks. That's the most depressing thing I've heard all week.
The gunsmith is awkwardly silent.
Taking the hint, Shakedown pipes up.
"W-well," he says. "We've... got enemy intelligence! Yeah, that's it!"
Tossup plants his face in his hand.
Spectrum would feel a mild, painless shock as she touched the veins. For a moment, she'd feel quite energized, but it would pass quickly.