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[code]Regal Square, Prince-Edfield_[/code]
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Reed couldn't help but fire off a retort at Meifeng's amused jeering, "Yeah, sure - but the American taxpayer doesn't pay us to stand around and rehearse our lines, we leave that to the politicians, remember?" However, by the time he'd finished that last remark, the RAVEN was already outside the range of coherent hearing. [i]She wasn't wrong, though.[/i] Granted, he couldn't help but crack a wry grin at Meifeng's commentary on his oratory skills, but it was true - he felt that he'd probably only just got through it. With the time he'd spent fawning over what he'd say at the rally, in hindsight he felt it was something of a shame that he didn't spend it on something more productive.

Still, he'd tried - and perhaps there were a few people in the crowd who were actually cheering for legitimate reasons rather than just for the sake of it.

Now on his mind, much to his own shame, was something more base in nature - the various food stalls situated outside the hall. Even in here, Reed swore that he could pick up just a slight aroma from something just around the corner and were it not for the fact that he was expected to remain in the hall that RAVEN had hired out for the event, he would've probably given into the the temptation to head out and help himself to a portion. Furthermore, he was now paying dearly for having gone into work on a light breakfast and later skipping lunch in order to prepare for the rally. His only hope now was that he could rope someone into picking something up for him before the stalls ran dry.

Where was Quentin when he needed him?

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[code]DOVE/RAVEN Joint Headquarters, White Coast_[/code]
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After a journey across the Atlantic, then what felt like a trip of equal length across the United States, the last thing that Frank had wanted to do was spend the next hour or so seated in the reception area of the DOVE/RAVEN HQ Building, his baggage leant against 
the wall beside him. Aside from getting to witness a brief argument between an athletic-figured gentleman and a receptionist (which was subsequently defused by a dark-haired asian in RAVEN garb) there wasn't much he could do, though to his slight relief, one of the other receptionists on-duty had taken pity on the sight of the Briton's welling boredom and passed a few copies of the local newspapers his way, giving him something to read through as he awaited news of what would next be done with him. At the least, it gave him a chance to get a rough idea of anything noteworthy going on in the city - and what did catch his eye were a few references to some new high on the streets, "Happiness" or something like that. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of deja vu from about a decade and a half ago in the UK when the legal highs (derived from a mixture of 'plant fertilisers' and other ingredients of obscure legal status) craze hit the media and sparked off a frenzy in the tabloids.

Not like there were any similarities between the two.

Eventually, Frank's reading session was interrupted by another DOVE employee - an agent, albeit one with a desk job by the looks of his office garb. "I believe you wanted to speak with me, Mr. Marshall?"

"So, Agent..." Frank began, leaning forward to get a view of the man's ID badge.
"Agent Gardiner, do you have a rough idea of when I'll be getting to see someone? If you don't mind me saying, I've come a long way and I'd rather get a chance to speak with the leadership before the jet lag sinks in."

"I understand, really, but a  slight complication hascome up," Gardiner began, albeit a little uncomfortably, "You've arrived slightly earlier than we expected, Mr. Marshall - and I'm afraid Director Taylor is currently at the rally in Prince-Edfield, along with Deborah Javaunt."

"Rally?" Frank raised an eyebrow, before recalling the numerous news articles he'd filtered through which had made reference to said rally. Then, after a moment, came an "Oh."

"I see, well.. in that case, I suppose I'm probably not going to get a real chance to sit down with the Director until tomorrow then, right?"

"I can't say for certain, but the chance is that you'll be more likely to have an official brief tomorrow or the day after." At least the agent was honest, Frankhad to give him that, but still. [i]Americans,[/i] he almost felt himself monologuing, before realising he was being a little hypocritcal in his observation - sitting around and waiting in queues was, after all, a favourite British pass time, even in this era of metahumans and societal unrest.

Of course, the grim thoughts on the news that he wouldn't be getting an audience with any form of authority today must've set on his face, judging by the hasty response from Gardiner. "I've spoken with my supervisor, we have had some accomodation set aside for yourself, Mr. Marshall, it's an apartment in the Oakdell Harbour district, already furnished - you won't need to concern yourself about any expenses in that respect. Likewise for groceries, we actually had it stocked with the basics this morning - and I'm aware that there's a store close by or even a restaurant if that's your preference."

That was good to hear, at least - no point spending money on some grotty little  hotel or sleeping in an office. He definitely liked the idea of a restaurant close by - even after the hot dog at the airport, he was hungry for a little more sustenance. "If you don't mind me asking, what kind of place is it?"

"It's a chinese buffet, I know a friend who went there a few weeks ago and he said it was good - maybe you might want to stop by?"

[I]Maybe indeed, I did fancy a Chinese,[/i] Frank thought, a thin smile forming upon his lips.