Clever got me this far, then tricky got me in. Eye on what I'm after, I don't need another friend.
The ceiling.
The Bloody florescent checkerboard patterned ceiling.
Oh god, why?
All things considering, Sally probably had bigger things to worry about than the fact that the interior decorating style of the decade was not to her aesthetic taste. Like the fact that she had been well and truly arrested, and was awaiting interrogation in a dim room that looked like it had been taken out of every bad cop movie ever made.
And this wasn't the usual, 'smile, nod and look scared while I sonic us out of these laser chains' kind of arrest. Nor was it even the, "Here, pick the lock with this while I cheerfully try and talk our way out of this," sort of arrest. This was a bona fide, tried and charged sort of arrest, and Sally very much doubted she'd be able to talk her way out of this. (Although the unsavoury way one of the officers had been looking her over the entire ride to the station suggested that there might be some way out of this, not that Sally even wanted to entertain the thought. ) She'd prefer prison in such a case, mind you, from what she knew of women's gaols, she'd probably end up sharing a cell with someone called Large Marge who read a lot of Gertrude Stein. Sally allowed herself a small shiver, she was far too cute for prison.
No, Sally decided, she would really have to try and talk her way out of this. She had it all planned out, all she had to do was explain that this was a grand mistake, that she left her UNIT pass in her bag, and that the guards didn't know her because she wouldn't actually have that pass issued for another twenty or so years, due to being the companion of a time-traveling alien...
Sally slouched in her chair with a wince and glared at the dim light bulb swinging over her head. She probably needed another plan.
The Bloody florescent checkerboard patterned ceiling.
Oh god, why?
All things considering, Sally probably had bigger things to worry about than the fact that the interior decorating style of the decade was not to her aesthetic taste. Like the fact that she had been well and truly arrested, and was awaiting interrogation in a dim room that looked like it had been taken out of every bad cop movie ever made.
And this wasn't the usual, 'smile, nod and look scared while I sonic us out of these laser chains' kind of arrest. Nor was it even the, "Here, pick the lock with this while I cheerfully try and talk our way out of this," sort of arrest. This was a bona fide, tried and charged sort of arrest, and Sally very much doubted she'd be able to talk her way out of this. (Although the unsavoury way one of the officers had been looking her over the entire ride to the station suggested that there might be some way out of this, not that Sally even wanted to entertain the thought. ) She'd prefer prison in such a case, mind you, from what she knew of women's gaols, she'd probably end up sharing a cell with someone called Large Marge who read a lot of Gertrude Stein. Sally allowed herself a small shiver, she was far too cute for prison.
No, Sally decided, she would really have to try and talk her way out of this. She had it all planned out, all she had to do was explain that this was a grand mistake, that she left her UNIT pass in her bag, and that the guards didn't know her because she wouldn't actually have that pass issued for another twenty or so years, due to being the companion of a time-traveling alien...
Sally slouched in her chair with a wince and glared at the dim light bulb swinging over her head. She probably needed another plan.