Party of Two
The rattle of the doorknob shakes Quinn from her thoughts, causing her to drop fork, whirling out of her chair to stride towards the door, eyes quickly scanning the variety of locks.
A woman’s voice outside lets out a muffled swear, and then a less than gentle pounding follows it. “Varden, if you’re in there, open the damn door.”
It’s not Myzariel, that’s certain, whoever the voice is, Quinn’s never heard it before. She presses ear up against the door, and then follows the clear instructions she’d been given. “Pass phrase,” she replies.
Another swear from behind the door, a pause, and then, “Mockingbird.”
Quinn sets to work on the locks, unclicking deadbolts, undoing chains. The Safehouse is not meant to be breached, even the windows are all barred and locked multiple times over. When the door finally opens, Quinn finds herself face to face with a dishevelled woman.
Thea Fiske’s hair is half in a tight bun, half unraveled from it, falling over one side of her face. Her uniform bears scratches and gouges, leather torn asunder in places. Dried blood, gore, and other unidentifiable matter spatters the arms, torso, and legs of her clothing.
She doesn’t wait for introductions, the Director pushing past Quinn and into the interior, and the Informant doesn’t stop her. If anything, she’s too busy stooping down to catch Peaches when he cat makes a run for the door.
Quinn leans her hip against the door, closing it so she can set the cat down. “All respect Miss? I don’t think I know who you are,” she says, as she sets to the locks, sealing the place up once more.
“Director Fiske. You’re right, we’ve never met, I see that even as the world burns, you survive? We lose most of Stormwind, and the Barmaid makes it out, it speaks to the skill of Arilyth.”
“Myz? Yeah, she and I got each other out, she’s a hell of a shot.”
The ‘got each other out’ earns a skeptical look from the woman as she moves about the space, checking it over. The Director moves with smooth efficiency in spite of her roughed up shape, checking cabinets and cupboards, taking mental inventory even if she knows what this place should have supplied. “Have you been keeping an accurate count of the supplies you use Varden?” Of all the things to be concerned about at a time like this.
It clicks for Quinn though...whatever it was that lead Thea Fiske to this safe house, alone, with no other agents and in the state that she is, must’ve been harrowing to say the least. If there’s one thing Quinn is good at, it’s quickly getting a sense of a person, and she identifies something key about Director Fiske immediately. The woman needs to stay busy, she focuses on tasks, on work, on structure, that is her coping method.
“Yes ma’am,” Quinn gestures to a clipboard hanging to the side of one of the cupboards. “Full inventory of everythin’ in the safehouse, and everythin’ I’ve used.”
“And the...pets?” Fiske’s voice carries a hint of distaste as she observes the Terrarium and the cat. “We stockpiled this place for humans, you had best be tracking everything these animals take. It will be coming out of your pay when this is all over.”
“If this ends up all over ma’am, I’ll gladly pay whatever outta my salary. I’ll just be glad to be alive.”
Thea gives the Informant a side glance, as though attempting to determine if she’s being flippant, but finds an at least seemingly genuine expression on Quinn’s features. “That is, I believe, the case for all of us Varden. Regardless, I’ll be staying here with you for the forseeable future. The rest of our Unit is camped far enough away that it would be unreasonable to make for them until things have calmed.”
“Does that mean they’re alive?”
Fiske’s lips tighten into a flat line. “I hope so, Varden. I hope so.”
[ Mention to @myzariel ]
