Preston had a great sense of humor about a lot of things, and despite his staunch military discipline and focus on missions, he loved music and movies to a nerdy degree. He'd been getting the Highlander references since the original film took prominence, and it continued with the television series as he got older. Luckily for him, he greatly enjoyed the series. He loved the fighting and sword work and the myths behind the immortal warriors. He really was from Clan MacLeod technically speaking, and his family did have origins in the Scottish Highlands. He used to tell people that Connor and Duncan were relatives of his when he was a younger lad. And even now that he was older and his powers were fully awakened, the humor of absorbing energy from other people wasn't lost on him. Now if only he had that immortality thing...
He wasn't one to stare, but Preston couldn't help himself, watching Gabriel's tentacles move with such grace and fluidity in every action. And not to mention accuracy! There was almost no recoil or kick back as he fired each weapon. Each tentacle had to be comprised of solid muscle. When Gabriel was finished, Preston tugged his ear protection down, shaking his head. "Holy shite... that's absolutely mental, man! I feel dreadfully inadequate."
In response to Gabriel's question, the Scot's head bobbled side to side as he pursed his lips in thought. "Aye, 'well enough' being the accurate term, I ken." He glanced around. "Less of a prisoner, more of a lab rat than Spectre in London. Some measures of normalcy. If normal ever truly fit the situation to begin with..."