HUNK wasted no time in getting down to the point. His practical nature was something Wesker had always appreciated about the man, although this time, it irritated him ever-so-slightly. Wesker could tell by the tone (what little inflection was present) that HUNK was nearing the end of his patience to field his questions. The answers were textbook: short and dry, conveying as little information as possible. Even so, Wesker was able to infer little things. For instance, little incident meant there had been something, and there was no such thing as a small leak in infection. Once a breach occurred, the spread was steady, even if it hid itself.
"So you are."
Wesker was well aware of exactly how short-staffed Spencer's floundering crew was these days. Between Chris Redfield's little anti-Umbrella coalition, the viral outbreaks and Wesker himself, their numbers had been cut considerably.
"I have my methods," Wesker intoned, sounding more distracted than anything.
He was, of course, already processing a mental checklist of what supplies would be needed, just how lightly he could travel, and what provisions needed to be made upon his departure.
"I have the coordinates in the letter," he added, "But if there's any other information you can give me, regarding that, I'm listening."