"It should take the security guard very nearly exactly two minutes to get from his desk to that office. Two minutes thirty seconds after breaking that vase the door to the office will close and lock and any attempts to repoen it will prove to be futile. Which leaves me," her voice grew distant again, "…average response time for the off-site security, time it’ll take for security guard to realize he needs to call them, time to realize I knocked out the phones on this floor… seventeen minutes to find out what, exactly, someone in this building doesn’t want my employers to see. I have no idea who you are or what you were doing there, but you’re my new best friend for the rest of the night. Now move."
She was surprised by the woman’s calculations—math had never been her forte—but the bluntness wasn’t so much of a shock. She’d seemed a bit like the bossy type—or maybe just headstrong. Mal wasn’t sure which one, yet.
"I do believe that y’r deductions were right on all behalf’s but one, ma’am,” she said, striding a little quicker now to keep up with the other brunette, “I do believe he’s realized the phones are out already. I can hear him swearing.” Bonus of sound manipulation: advanced hearing. “Mind if I ask what ‘tis that’s not supposed to be seen? Or would ya have t’a kill me if ya told me?”
Vivian shot her companion a sharp look. She hadn’t heard the guard at all. But even if she was lying, it only took a minute or so off her estimate. Act as though it were the truth now, deal with the question of how she could have heard the guard through a solid door later. The agent sped up a little. At the end of the hall, she shoved a fire door open, yanked her companion through it, and started off down the stairs.
"If I knew what it was, I wouldn't be here. Who are you, anyway? You're not on the company's employee roster. And have I seen you before, or do you just have one of those faces?
