7 | [ location: the jeffersonian institute ] / [ accidental visual ]
Brennan's normally immaculately ordered office at the Jeffersonian Institute is anything but ordered today. Several books have been pulled down from the bookcases and stacked on the floor in rows, a few chairs have been lifted on the table, the cushions and pillows on her couch are askew. Nothing is ever askew in this room. The anthropologist herself appears somewhat frazzled, methodically going through every nook and cranny as if searching for something. Brennan checks behind the glass-case of the mummy (yes, an actual mummy) nestled in the corner of the room before moving along, gaze sweeping the ground.
"Damn it," she mutters to herself and rakes her fingers through her hair in frustration, before going down on her hands and knees to check underneath the couch once more.
"Damn it," she mutters to herself and rakes her fingers through her hair in frustration, before going down on her hands and knees to check underneath the couch once more.