[hr][center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjgwLjgwYTlkMS5RVzVrY21WaElGQmhjM1JsY201aFkycywuMAAA/ruthie.regular.png[/img][hider=Ambiance][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNhxg4dOlig[/youtube][/hider][/center]

[code]RAVEN/DOVE Joint Headquarters, White Coast|[/code][hr][hr]

The previous day was something of a nightmare for more than one reasons. First of all being that it was a DOVE rally meant to promote peace and unity and the cooperation between meta-human and non-meta communities instead of breeding resentment, and it was utterly sabotaged by two dunderheaded men who just happened to be registered metas. That would of course send a variety of messages, one being that the meta-human community is not interested in being equals to non-metas, and another being that meta-humans are naturally drunk with power and ego that they think they can do whatever they want – it was a giant political quagmire. The one that was dressed up like a pimp, for instance, definitely gave her that impression. The both of them were acting pretty stupid, but mister “Johnny Valos”, as the processing told everyon definitely had a chip on his shoulder. Andrea could tell when he was struggling as she held him in stasis. The man was coming up with some plan to overwhelm her or something, so he didn't have any respect for due authority (not that she was in any way considered authority, but he wouldn't have known that – thank God anyways, there'd be hell to pay if RAVEN discovered her getting involved in their jurisdiction). Although she'd applaud his effort, she wasn't a stranger to stress. She was actually worried about the three men straining [i]themselves.[/i]

Nightmare reason number two, the whole brouhaha in general nearly looked like a God-forsaken terror attack and, as a result, the scene was swarmed with press like they were starving locusts. With the acts of barbarism by the Founding Family a couple years back still fresh in the mind of Baybridge's citizens, paranoia was at an all time high. All it takes to breed a new terrorist organization is distrust, prejudice, and good reason – and this city had all of that in surplus. Not that Andrea would ever have to guess; her scrying on the meeting yesterday had already revealed to her that fact. She would try to pay it no mind. The burden of such knowledge and the responsibility of withholding it was well above her pay grade. Her job was to follow others around, write reports, and crunch numbers.

As for nightmare reason number three?

Andrea's supervisor, Mrs. Bayard, dropped a couple of folders into her arms, and looked quite frazzled with her hair sticking out every other inch or so. Andrea didn't feel as though she was faring much better than her.

“One more report and you're free to go, Pasternack.” She told her. Andrea sighed as she took them and set them on the desk she was leaning against.

“Another...” Andrea groaned. She looked as though she were spacing out for a moment and she spoke. “For... the rally mishap... to... relevant interested party. Reason for arrest.... bail. All the processing in between.”

“The line between your supernatural powers of deduction and the fact we've been working on this since this morning is beginning to blur.” Bayard commented. “Anyways, thank you.”

“No, thank [i]you[/i] for the opportunity.”  Andrea inserted, sounding almost sarcastic as she sat down in her chair and started reading over the papers. It [i]is[/i] true what Bayard said, though. They've been at this all day. Technically, Andrea should've left two and a half hours ago – the 9 to 5 grind – but the offices have been hustling all day, and Andrea had the advantages of, one, having been present to witness the scene as it occurred, and two, had a knack for completing and filing paperwork efficiently. Not that it was a skill she'd ever find herself bragging about. Still, it was something of an honor that she was trusted enough to perform the same kind of work in litigation support and receive the same rate of pay for the job as existing employees. It was just a shame that she's been at it all day now, and she felt herself getting a little flustered.

“Being the sole eyewitness account in these offices sure is a bitch, isn't it?” Bayard said offhandedly.

Before resuming her work, Andrea shot her a look of surprise and marveled in a forced tone, “Ms. Bayard! [i]Language.[/i]”

“Don't get used to it.” She remarked. “When you're done, let me know and I'll give it a once-over before calling the case closed.”

“Consider it already done.” Andrea droned, reading the documents as she picked up a cup of black tea from the desk, and cringed upon a sip. It had gone cold. She set it down and picked up a pencil and idly began fiddling with it instead, twirling it between her fingers. Her eyes seemed to space out again as she answered her supervisor's questions before she could even ask them. “You feel... doubtful. Suspicious... this document features requests almost identical to the local Department of Corrections case, so I can recycle an earlier report to a different address for this one. Voila, filler is out of the way... yes, it's legal... no. Not lazy... shortcut, yes. I know, it's not like me, but all discrepancies will be accounted for. Give me ten minutes.”

“This time it's supernatural for sure.” Bayard remarked dryly. “Thank you.”

Andrea nodded as her supervisor walked away.

[I]“God, at least half of these pencil-pushers can't do half the work of a single intern,”[/i] she heard her think, watching her stomp off back to her own desk with Andrea's apparitions trailing her. Her eyes fell down to her lap, and a slight smile crept onto her face and her cheeks flushed rosy red as the faintest sign of pride welled up in her chest. She never imagined that she'd be at this point a couple years ago, and who would've imagined that this crazy ride was the one she'd be on? Now, she learned that every time life threw her a curve ball, she'd think about why she's still here. Her mind fell back to Poland, back home, every time where she had a family who was probably worried sick about their daughter. Andrea took a deep breath and captured the image and imagine the scent of home cooking. Łazanki sided with mama's pierogis, precursored by barszcz with uszka...

What would mama ever say about her if she learned of what actually happened to her daughter? What kind of mess  she got into? Forget the taste of home, they'd probably disown her and forget to ever speak of her again... Andrea took a deep breath. In through the nose... out through the mouth.

[I]'Now's not the time for that. It doesn't matter. I'm getting better.'[/i]

She punched in the password to her computer, “Let's get today over and done with.”

True to her word, Andrea spent a few minutes on her final report, and before long she punched out her time card and was out of the front door and throwing her coat on. Her sights fell on her car in the parking lot and she sighed. Straight home? No, no, she had no time get groceries.  No energy to get any tonight, either. She needed some place quiet to eat to stop the pounding in her head. There was some chit-chat going on about a Thai dive – quiet atmosphere, aromatic food, [i]affordable[/i] food, hardly recognizable from the outside – somewhere in Strongriver Plaza, down the road from the Golden Throne, so it wasn't that far. It meant less risk of her car breaking down on the way there. Taking all these things into consideration... looks like she knew what she was doing for the evening.