"Uh. Whoops. Very bad way of putting that. Hmm. A-ha!" Reaching into his pocket, Steel drew a very small vial. Smelling salts. "Uhhh. Ananke, get me a holo-screen. Nineteen seventeen doctor. Make it Aussie." A very small drone crawled out of Steel's pocket. Flinging into the air, it projected a holographic imaging of an Australian combat medic over his clothing. Now perfectly disguised, he held the salts under Marcus's nose. "There we go, that's a right lad." The man performed the accent almost perfectly.