By the-- These Rivet City guards really know how to run their mouths in regard to complaints. Seriously, nobody had time for that, especially a group on a strict schedule. If Tanks didn't have his helmet on, he would still be rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"We have our orders, Washington," is the terse response. "If you have problems, have your superior forward them to Scribe Morse. That's what she's there for." Cutting off any room for further complaints, he turns to his subordinates. "Men."

The knights salute and move in different directions, each intent on certain tasks. Only Paladin Tanks stays, staring hard at the group before him.