"Okay, well, call me when you find out? …Alright I love-" Ava cuts off when she hears the lick of her daughter hanging up on her. She sighs and drops the cellphone down beside her on the couch. "You." she finishes, shaking her head and crossing her arms. An annoyed expression sits on her face and she wonders if her ex-husband gets as much of the teenage attitude as she does. Probably not, and that’s only more annoying to her. With a sigh, she gets up off the couch to go and find something to calm her down. Maybe a little pot, maybe some valerian root, or a beer. Hell, maybe just some fresh air. All she knows is that she doesn’t want to sit and sulk.
After a long, tedious battle with the front door, her keys, and the large box of knick-knacks in her grasp, Clara forced the front door open, wedging her body between the door and the frame to keep it from shutting on her again. It had been her last day as a dispatcher, now that Mitchell had requested she work for him, instead of for a county radio. After a bit of consideration, she had decided to take his offer. She's much more valuable to them in front of a computer screen than on the field.
Clara stops in the hall when a woman approaches. Ava. She hadn't really spoken to her yet, but she's read her file. She reads everyone's file. A bright, cheery grin turns up her lips despite the sour expression on the other's face. "Hello," she greets in her sing-song voice.













