Paperwork. 99 would never be caught dead doing paperwork anywhere outside her office in CONTROL. It's not just unsightly, it's telling. What with her cover as your average glamor girl on the street, the amount of paperwork she handles at headquarters would stick out like a sore thumb.
Still, she can't hide that hint of sympathy as she looks over at Camille's table, quietly wondering what the mess is about.
There are advantages to being the wife of a jet-setting businessman, apparently. Beyond the obvious.
Still, her expression when she mets 99's gaze is a touch rueful - she has, after all (and as Dominic has pointed out more than once) brought this on herself.
"Oh." 99 grins, tautly, an attempt at sympathetic interest lost in the raw feeling of her own family history -- traces of her mother's face -- erased by a surgeon's scalpel. 99 knew her mother and her mother's family, knew where they lived, knew who they were. She couldn't visit them, or speak with them, or even tell them she was alive.
Really, 99 envied Camille's paperwork, now, more than she pitied it.
Still, she can't hide that hint of sympathy as she looks over at Camille's table, quietly wondering what the mess is about.
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Still, her expression when she mets 99's gaze is a touch rueful - she has, after all (and as Dominic has pointed out more than once) brought this on herself.
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"I guess that's not for work."
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Those things.
"No, but this...I'm trying to track down my mother's family."
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Really, 99 envied Camille's paperwork, now, more than she pitied it.
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She shuts the manilla folder, then glances up again.
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She smirks. "Your family's from Russia?"
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