Hillfort
If it weren't for all the dangerous hubbub going on around them then Lupin's panting would have been heard as the squad reached the bunker, the weight of all his gear was getting to the spry young lad but not a single complaint was heard as he followed along with Minnie and the others like a good little duckling. His shoulders were definitely more slumped than usual though but that was hardly the focus of what was going on, and after a moment Lupin forced his spine to straighten out as his plated chest rose and fell with each breath.
When told to get set-up of course Lupin's mind immediately went to the slit in their protective little bunker... the slit that would see a lot of action the moment larger guns started firing out of it, it'd be hard to keep his rifle steady if the thing he was stabilizing it on was being peppered with constant gunfire - and so Private Kennedy's helmet pivoted around thoughtfully, even peeking back out the door they had just entered through~
"I~..." he started speaking, but took a second to breathe some more and further oxygenate his blood before attempting again, this time actually turning on his helmet's headset.
"Private Kennedyl here, I'm going to set up just outside... don't worry about me I'll keh- keep my head down~" Lou panted out before backtracking a few meters. For someone so green and racked by nerves he wasted little time acting on his words, Lupin resting his M3 against the side of the trench and removing the bag from his back, quickly pressing his back into the wall of the trench in a low squat and moving the bag to his lap to not take up too much of the available space. He tried for the bag's zipper though shaking hands betrayed him, causing the marksman to growl beneath his breath and ball them into fists, quickly slamming his hands into the trench-wall behind his back to force them into submission before continuing.
Acting mostly on muscle memory Lupin quickly relocated the contents of the bag, strapping a belt of magazines onto his free hip, threading the shrouded suppressor onto his rifle and stuffing the black 5-shot revolver into his rig before the bag was discarded off to the side. DSR01 in-hand, Lupin leant further forwards onto the slope and was about to poke his head over the precipice when all the hairs on the back of his head stood on end... it took Lupin a moment to realize why.
...Yeah no, bad idea, Lulu wasn't dumb enough to do that.
Instead he took a moment to unsheathe the knife he'd been gifted, flipping it over, using the toothed backside to cut a jagged peep-hole into a plank making up the rim of the trench and pushing aside some debris before replacing the knife in its sheath. It wasn't some comical thing that Lupin would poke his rifle and half his body through but hopefully it'd work for his more realistic intention, the unblooded sniper wrapping the rifle's sling around his bulkier-plated arm and bracing that same elbow onto the knee that was lifted part-way up the slope.
Even now among the sea of red and brown the NSMC sniper managed to not draw too much attention, steadily feeding a magazine into his rifle and chambering a round before attempting to lower his face onto the stock, finding that the helmet prevented him from obtaining a proper cheek-weld.
So in one smooth motion it was discarded to sit next to his M3, revealing Lupin's sweat-slick face and matted hair that he quickly brushed back with one hand before lowering his face to the rifle once more, attempting to slow his breath and steady his aim enough to properly see what was going on beyond no-man's land, camouflaged suppressor poking past the trench the only hint anyone was even there.