The armour is of the MJOLNIR class. A mix of Mrk IV and V armour, and modified beyond the norm. It looks well-worn, the paint chipped here and there, but well looked after nonetheless.

Jorge turns his head, pausing as he can feel someone watching him, before casting his helmet down a smidgeon so he can look at Roger.

"Can I help you, sir?" Not confrontational, but his voice is crisp, military, professional.