Tucker gets a quirk of a grin at the expected commentary, one that makes it all the way to a snort when the repartee breaks down entirely. Even with much higher day-to-day stakes than they get in the Legion, he's always had a weak spot for a certain amount of jackassery. It's just . . . normal. Probably abnormally normal, considering this is also a sim trooper who somehow managed to wrangle himself an alien sword.

"If you're being technical, I've never been a sniper. Freelancer picked me up as a marksman." Rifle set up, he looks up, patting the ground directly behind the weapon. "Down here, Quickshot, prone position."