- 1st Report -
[On clicks a communicator, completely by accident if the quiet sound of sleeping breath is any truthful indication. It drones one for thirty seconds, that slow inhale, exhale, and while most would be ready to chalk it up to a case of accidental calling --no different than sitting on one's cell and having it unconsciously redail the last person called-- the quiet is interrupted with a soft rustling, a body shifting from where it lay. The speaker's voice is thick with sleep, quiet, feminine.]
...promise, sir. [Incoherent mumbling.] ...the reports... they're almost finished.
Five more minutes.
...Reno...ssstop drawing on the reports...
[The rustling stops, and the breathing resumes for all of ten seconds before a sudden gasp wrenches from her throat. A clearly heard sound of a gun being pulled out slides through the airwaves. When she speaks, it's from far away from the microphone, a hurried rapid fire of questions as she sits blot upright.]
What--? Where am I? What's going on? Come on out, whoever you are! Do you know who you're messing with, because if you don't, I'll be sure happy to show yo--
[The words die in her throat, though, and a hand brushes over the communicator, picking it up. She sounds quiet when she starts talking again, a little stunned, a whole-lotta disappointed.]
Not again.
Oh, Shiva, not again.
I think I'm going to be sick.
...promise, sir. [Incoherent mumbling.] ...the reports... they're almost finished.
Five more minutes.
...Reno...ssstop drawing on the reports...
[The rustling stops, and the breathing resumes for all of ten seconds before a sudden gasp wrenches from her throat. A clearly heard sound of a gun being pulled out slides through the airwaves. When she speaks, it's from far away from the microphone, a hurried rapid fire of questions as she sits blot upright.]
What--? Where am I? What's going on? Come on out, whoever you are! Do you know who you're messing with, because if you don't, I'll be sure happy to show yo--
[The words die in her throat, though, and a hand brushes over the communicator, picking it up. She sounds quiet when she starts talking again, a little stunned, a whole-lotta disappointed.]
Not again.
Oh, Shiva, not again.
I think I'm going to be sick.