(no subject)

[sunnydalealum]

Last night there was a late-night phone call, about this. This morning there's a lengthy meeting in Emma's office.

Brianna shakes her head: no, she wasn't able to get the other woman's name. She spoke English. No identifying regional accent. When Emma pulls a series of photos out of the archives, Brianna studies them intently. I'm not sure, she says. The light was bad. It could be her. Maybe.

Later today, those same photos are projected onto a screen at one end of a conference room full of zhirelin.

Her name is Dana, Emma tells them. A zhirel from Los Angeles, abducted and abused by a psychopath as a small child. She was in an institution until last year, when her abilities manifested; the staff there didn't know how to deal with her. She broke out of her cell, overpowered two doctors and an orderly, and escaped. The LA branch of Wolfram & Hart located her and tried to bring her in, but representatives of the Watchers' Council showed up and took her out of their hands by force.

She hasn't been seen since, until last night.



(There are things about this encounter that don't quite match up. Some of the things the girl said, for instance -- caff and call, what's that about? But the transcription of the surveillance video from Dana's medical records (retained in Wolfram & Hart's joint archives) makes Brianna nod repeatedly: She talked like that. Not those exact phrases, but ... that's how she talked.)



Around the table, they're all watching intently: two dozen young women, ranging in age from nineteen to thirty, wearing street clothes or business casual or workout gear. All of them look sober. Some of them look angry.

(One of them is not like the others.)

"If you see this girl, do not approach her." Emma's winding up the briefing. "And report it in immediately.

"Are there any questions?"

Comments

[amazongeneral.livejournal.com]

"What's her condition now? Is she healthy? Was she acting normal?"

[sunnydalealum]

Emma nods to Brianna, standing to the left of the podium. She shakes her head.

"She wasn't acting abnormal, but the way she talked ... she's clearly still insane. Probably still dangerously so."

[sunnydalealum]

"Exactly why I don't want any of you trying to approach her." Emma looks around the room. "If she decides you're a threat, either you'll get hurt or she will, or both. And neither is an acceptable risk."

"We shouldn't try to talk to her at all?" asks one young woman, halfway down the table.

"Not unless she talks to you first," says Emma. "And the important thing is to let me know immediately. I don't care if it's four in the morning; for this, you call me."

[amazongeneral.livejournal.com]

Okay, time to choose her words, and then stop drawing attention to herself. "How can we help her? She is someone so sick, and all of us work."

[sunnydalealum]

"It's not the job of any of you to help her." Emma leans forward to stress the words. "But we have people working for the company who can. What I need you for in this -- all of you -- is to keep an eye out, over the course of your regular duties. Just that."

A sweeping glance down the length of the table. "I'm counting on you all."

[amazongeneral.livejournal.com]

The mood shifts, at that, to something more inspired; the girls know their duties. It's not Philippus' role to look respectfully at a leader, but it is hers to nod in not-quite-disdainful acceptance.

The meeting breaks up after that, and Philippus is left to start for the door most concerned with what happens if they find the girl.

She has met River, after all.

[sunnydalealum]

Emma's the last to leave the room, a few minutes behind the last of the zhirelin.

She's carrying a stack of file folders under one arm as she closes the door to the conference room behind her.

[sunnydalealum]

If Emma suspects that there's no way Grant Benedict's stroll down this hallway brought him up right behind her at this particular moment by pure chance ... she'll be right.

He smiles, brightly.

"Emma! Meeting go well?"

[sunnydalealum]

Not missing a beat is a point of pride.

"Pretty well, thanks. Could you hold this for a moment?" And she holds out the stack of folders.

[sunnydalealum]

"No problem," says Grant's Crest smile, as he takes them. "You don't want to try to balance everything and drop it all."

[sunnydalealum]

"Thanks." (Emma's smile is by Ralph Lauren.) "That's why it's always good to have help."

She locks the conference room door, puts the keys back in her purse, and starts off down the hallway.

"So what brings you here?" she asks over her shoulder.

[sunnydalealum]

"Staplers."

He shifts the stack of folders from one arm to the other -- should have seen that one coming -- and moves after her.

"I'm all out."

[sunnydalealum]

The look she gives him is patiently disbelieving.

"Oh, now you're not even trying."

[sunnydalealum]

In return she gets a puzzled frown.

"You're familiar with the ritual of Tefnut's Binding?"

[sunnydalealum]

Emma's eyebrows flick up. "Oh."

A beat.

"That doesn't explain why you can't borrow a stapler from a secretary. Or you could even get wacky and try the supply cabinet."

[sunnydalealum]

"You never get the urge to stretch your legs? See the rest of the floor?"

He shakes his head.

"That's the problem with Extrahuman Resources -- tunnel vision."

[sunnydalealum]

She gives him a cool sidelong smile. "With the two of us as the shining exceptions, of course."

[sunnydalealum]

Grant just chuckles.

"You're certainly enthusiastic in your outreach."

[sunnydalealum]

Emma's smile warms, with practiced ease.

"They're good kids."

[sunnydalealum]

His doesn't.

"I'm sure they won't let you down."

[sunnydalealum]

She stops at the elevator, taps the call button, and says lightly: "Oh, they won't."

[sunnydalealum]

For a moment there's silence; he's studying the (unopened) folder in his hands.

"You remember Rob Bennet's last project?"

[sunnydalealum]

There's an infinitesimal pause before she chuckles. "How could I forget."

[sunnydalealum]

Grant shakes his head sorrowfully.

"He did try. Heart in the right place, you know?"

A beat.

"At least, it was. Good luck with the kids, Emma -- oh, and here's your folder." His smile spreads slowly, like pooling grease. "You wouldn't want to lose something like this."

[sunnydalealum]

"Thanks."

Emma plucks the folder out of his hand with exaggerated care, her smile just a touch brittle.

"And good luck with your vital finding-a-stapler mission," she adds, as the elevator doors slide quietly open.