Shay kept pace easily, across and over rubble as easily as if she were walking down a clear city street, sometimes vaulting it, if the pieces were small enough. Or bounding up onto it before dropping down on the other side if they were too big to clear in one jump.
She'd settled easily into watch mode when he asked, holding almost perfectly still except for the steady back-and-forth sweep of her head, it was a movement that was more than a little reminiscent of a bird of prey scanning for any movement in the grass that would indicate dinner. So far there was nothing, and no heat signatures showing up on the infrared over her right eye.
There was a faint shrug at the question, "Flash tattoo, it's keyed to my heart rate." A pause then, "Uh, you guys haven't invented them yet, except barely. You've got ones that change color for like, diabetics, but skin-pixels are still a ways in your future."