They’d tended to their injured. Celebrated. She’d already been back to business for a while now, which meant that she was working down her list of troubles.
She sat in her office, polite and looking as sweet as ever--a contradiction to the overwhelming energy signature that clung to her like a dark fog. Sometimes, it was comforting. Now, not so much.
It was late in the evening, but she didn’t care much to push this off for any longer than she absolutely had to.
As she sat at her desk, fingers laced neatly together atop of it, she seemed docile enough.
“Lieutenant Cristobalite,” she said, smiling as she summoned her to the center of her office. “Please, have a seat. I wanted to go over this evening with you.”
Epine de Rose
