A few of the others grin, but the blonde's look is flatly disapproving.
"Up to you. Juliet, Amy, you're assigned to our guest here. Erica, you take a group down to the lobby -- has anyone seen Melissa?" she interrupts herself, sounding exasperated.
That level look again from the blonde. "All right," she says finally. "We're gonna sweep the lower levels. You stay with Amy and Juliet, and don't engage anyone until they've identified them as hostiles."
A beat.
"You know how to use that thing?" And it's not so much challenge as it is ... well, something perilously close to envy.
"Yeah," Mel says and draws it out with the ease of someone who knows her weapon intimately. There's a note of pride and a lot of fondness in her voice, none of which is faked.
Until the blonde breaks the haze by saying sharply "All right, let's move out. Erica, pick your team --"
A few busy moments, and then Erica's heading for the front elevators with eight or nine of the zhirelin following her, and Brianna's leading the rest toward the back elevators.
"We'll split up into smaller groups as we work our way down," she says, "and report back on whatever we find. Or don't find. If there's nothing by the time we get to the subbasement ... I should probably go have a word with Levinson."
Mel's not really interested in Brianna anyway, though she appears to be. She's trying to keep tabs on the reactions of the others.
"Great," she says, swallowing back her slang. "Nothing like being my own boss. Means I get to pick and choose my jobs, and no one's telling me what I should be... hey, why are we standing here anyway? Where's the stairwell?"
A flat, closed look at Mel. "Figure you might want to do the same," she adds, and there's a question buried in it.
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"Nah, screw 'em. I'm sick of playing the rutting bodyguard. I need some action."
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"Up to you. Juliet, Amy, you're assigned to our guest here. Erica, you take a group down to the lobby -- has anyone seen Melissa?" she interrupts herself, sounding exasperated.
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Well, one blonde mostly, but this'll do. She continues to smile easily, waiting to see if anyone else will volunteer information about 'Melissa'.
After all, it's not like she'd know, is it?
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"So you guys just wanna wait for your pal to turn up? 'Cause there's things to be done."
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A beat.
"You know how to use that thing?" And it's not so much challenge as it is ... well, something perilously close to envy.
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"We're old friends."
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Until the blonde breaks the haze by saying sharply "All right, let's move out. Erica, pick your team --"
A few busy moments, and then Erica's heading for the front elevators with eight or nine of the zhirelin following her, and Brianna's leading the rest toward the back elevators.
"We'll split up into smaller groups as we work our way down," she says, "and report back on whatever we find. Or don't find. If there's nothing by the time we get to the subbasement ... I should probably go have a word with Levinson."
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"Who's Levinson?" she asks with casual curiosity.
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A beat.
"You got a name?"
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Bright, friendly smile, accompanied with an extended hand.
"Melaka Fray."
Aliases are for losers.
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She takes the hand in a quick clasp, squeezing maybe a touch harder than necessary, and lets go.
"And you're with the Cleveland branch?"
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"Well, this week I am. I'm mostly freelance."
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It's perfunctory. Brianna's paying a great deal more attention to the elevator button, which is refusing to light.
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"Great," she says, swallowing back her slang. "Nothing like being my own boss. Means I get to pick and choose my jobs, and no one's telling me what I should be... hey, why are we standing here anyway? Where's the stairwell?"
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