01-20-2016, 07:32 AM
In a fog of gazing at her tablet, assimilating new data and absentmindedly changing out of her 'civvies' (look, military slang already!), one ear flicked at the sound of the tent opening and someone stepping in, displacing a volume of air much more than the average size. Ara stopped reading, dropping her skirt and without too much in the way of prudishness - one does not grow up in a crowded household and share bedrooms with brothers as well as sisters, let alone bathing facilities and the like with too much prudishness intact, even if the vixen were so inclined - continued by pulling on her uniform pants, enjoying the silken feel and soft rustle against her silken fur. Not sure how her reply might be taken after having been dressed down for being insulting and switched from her preferred department for being overexuberant, the chastened little vixen sheepishly waved a little paw at the big dragoness while trying not to stare, her mind already working on the physics of lift and wingspan, adding in the magic factor of, well, magic as variable_m_..."Urrh, um, h-hullo there. This IS the Base Ops tent, is it not? Crumbs, I hope I have not gotten the wrong tent..that would be a fine kettle of fish..."