Frank rams a new clip into his bolter, and checks to see that his reloads are on his belt. Holstering the massive gun, he draws the other one and does the same: only a slight sway indicates that he was shaken by the sudden landing. "<There's imps to kill.>" he says, using his native tongue's word for a kind of religious creature of evil and petty mischeif, roughly translating to 'imp', rather than the word for Imperials, "<I'm always ready. Just let me know when I can start...>"
He half-snarls, clearly looking forwards to vengeance, and stands up, checking the edge of his sword. He runs a claw along the razor sharp blade, and, with a ringing noise, a few sparks fly off. "<Just let me know...>" he resheaths the blade, and then checks his armor, rapping on the shoulder pauldrons and chest plate a few times, to make sure it's still functional.
As soon as they step off the ship, he moves two paces in front of Rhys, like a bodyguard. Any doorways that the two will have to go through, he goes through first- anyone trying to attack Rhys will have to attack him first. His barely contained desire for stormtropper blood to be on his hands appears to vanish, as he slips into his normal public mode: the big, stupid alien bodyguard. Wookies might rip your arm off, but he looks like he'll bite your throat out, too.
"<Precisely what are we supposed to be doing, again?>" he asks, glancing back at Rhys.