((figure I might as well inject myself here, assuming it isn't minded.))
Fel was up to her eyeballs practically in details and info swarming up her dataplate. Attached to her old, battered model was a relatively-new (to her) engineering dataplate, which had diagnostics scrolling up it at a mind-boggling and eye-searing rate across four different windows, while on her own 'plate there were graphics and field-effect outlines, projections and the like, making the little seven inch screen look like a crowded rainbow mess. All this data was coming from the narrow, sleek little pack she had in her hands, the entirety of it barely larger than a flat, thin version of a child's backpack. That it was something more was hinted at only by the small multitude of straps attached to it. She'd been told to search for a young, rather cute fox kit, one with red fur and bright eyes, one too young to be the usual Academy student. So, with that in mind, she was walking about towards where she was told to meet the child and his parents, the unusual, data-streaming pack in hands. Every once in a while she'd slide a window on her dataplate aside and consult a moving, GPS-style map, checking her location so she wouldn't get turned around.