Montana /had/ been for lack of a better term, 'chilling' at his desk, admiring the craftsmanship that put such a thing together. Admiring objects was truly a pastime of the idle, whos idle minds had the free range of motion to idle on to such whimsical thoughts. Had he been a carpenter, he would have admired it the second he laid eyes on it, but Roderic Montana was no craftsman. Apprentice, journeymen, or otherwise.
Work he could appreciate on sight involved violence, deception, and the timelessly classic well executed mission.
Other work didn't require a person touch to appreciate, and spoke for itself. Bach, Da Vincni, Chopin, Miley Cyrus, art and music, the popular kind. It didn't require an aficionados ears or eyes to enjoy. They were worldly in nature, whos value went far beyond the idle fancy of the bore obscure. They were there, in your face. Demanding your attention just like...
A howling Norrevinter.
-Never surprised, never bored- Montana said, to himself as there was no one else in the room with him. Well, as far as he knew. This was S.C.I.O.N. after all. He collected a few choice items that lay in front of him, and stood up from his desk. His near skin tight stealth suit, a prototype he had been wearing to test functionality, as well as range of motion, made no sound as the material moved against the wood of his chair. It was a dark blue, covered in thin plating where the most important vitals were. Expensive. New. About to possibly be field tested.
Along with these dull matte black gadgets. Possibly. Resolution without violence was his tenant, and when at all possible, he preferred diplomacy over violence. In his mind, you got much more done that way.
With that, Montana removed himself from the room, and moved into the corridor. His movements were fluid, trained. His muscle mas, compact and tight, moved well with the stealth suit. Save for the temperature regulation, it almost felt like he was running nude. He imagined it would feel like he was fighting nude too. Which was fine for him. Brawling naked was an issue amongst the living he had never shared.
"Kora." There were others here to, as expected. No powers flaring or steel flashing. Good. They didn't panic under pressure. Meaning most of those gathered were veterans of some kind, rather then green recruits. Not that anyone recruited into S.C.I.O.N was 'green' mind you, but seeing a transformed, red she wolf destroying cutlery and finely crafted cupboards could be disorienting for anyone unused to the supernatural.
"Kora." Montana's voice was raised now, and he had moved to the doorway. He wasn't going to go inside until he could gauge how lucid she was. Last thing he needed was to get thrown into a wall, and slide down with two new broken ribs and a contusion.
"Come now Kora, there's better ways to handle situations."
A piece of wood, now airborne from her assault moved toward Montana's head with the speed of a thing propelled by immense strength. His response was simple. A small movement to avoid, no waste of motion. Fighting vampires had a great way of improving reflexes.
"Or we can get the recruits down here for a live demonstration, with interaction on non lethal techniques for subduing top tier wolves. That's not a threat dear, that's the best way I can justify your rampage to the higher ups if this doesn't stop. Talk to me.-