The visor barely fazes Daisy. For a moment there is a sort of fondness of a time when helmets were no different from her siblings' faces. He turns out to be a younger person than she had anticipated.

"Sir?" ... and tilts her head, looking at her long braid which she rubs in nervousness, particularly with the 'prettier even' that she's still unused to. "I don't think we've met. I'm Daisy. SPARTAN-023."

She looks back to him, not up as MarKus was towered by over a foot in height, "and... that's the thing. I need new armor." ... "And a rifle. And the longest sword you have."