[@KatherinWinter]

[color=662d91]“Ah.”[/color] Agent Talia A. LeCroix emerged from the relatively cabin of a BoSA-chartered jet. Before her, at the foot of the fold-down steps from the aircraft, the tarmac of a government-access runway, and the span of airfields of Dulles International lay before her in the bright morning sunlight. Relieved to be on the ground, she drew in a deep, pleasured breath of fresh air, and slid a heavily tinted pair of sunglasses over her eyes. Lugging her single carry-on item, a small, weekend bag, she descended the steps onto the runway, approaching a peculiarly gaunt looking driver standing by a non-descript black Buick. 

She nodded, hesitantly, at the man, who she noticed was holding a sign with her last name boldly written across it. [color=662d91][i]Important enough for the jet; not enough for the escort.[/i][/color] She might have expressed disdain with the lack of a welcome from the Bureau, but she knew better; whatever the upper-management was looking to do, it was something they were trying to keep on the downlow… such was the nature of the Bureau. It never would have made sense for an agency established to monitor the supernatural to parade through the streets in full Presidential regalia. 

Nodding again, this time kindlier to the driver, she climbed into the Buick’s back seat. No words spoken, driver and passenger departed the airstrip. 

A moment after, Talia removed her Bureau-issued phone from its belt clip, and messaged her supervisor: 

[quote][i]Back from Boston, MA. Just landed at Dulles and in route to Headquarters for next debriefing. Negotiations in MA went smoothly, considering the brevity. We should have London’s support moving forward. 
[/i][/quote]

She stowed her phone back into its clip, and heaved the long-held sigh. She had hoped to make more headway on a case back north… a matter that she and her colleagues suspected was the work of a witch convent, which, as it happened, came up as she was assisting the Bureau in establishing a more international front with a similar Ministry in London. 

But, that, she knew, would have to wait for the time being. Her supervisor, that is, her immediate supervisor, had only informed her of a new team assignment a day earlier, and set her on an early, private flight from Logan to be briefed on the tasks to come. [i]“Sorry to spring this up on you,”[/i] he had said. [i]“But there was an oversight, and they’re pretty shorthanded as far support goes; too combat-heavy. You’ll be much appreciated behind the scenes.” [/i]

Her phone vibrated. Checking it, she rolled her eyes, and then sent out a second message to her supervisor: 

[quote][i]And we should put out a memo to the White House that Lincoln’s Ghost was granted Presidential Amnesty… along with the other first-family spirits. They’re getting riled up over it again.[/i][/quote]





The trip proceeded without further interference. She suspected as much, as the supervisor in question was likely also overseeing the new team’s integration. She would spend the remainder of her time contemplating the driver, whose haggard appearance left much to wonder about, and proved difficult to resist prying more into. When they arrived at her destination, she stopped at his rolled down window. Slipping him a generous tip and a business card, she said, [color=662d91]“what happened wasn’t your fault. We can help you.”[/color] She turned about, up the steps towards BoSA headquarters, leaving behind a confused driver. 





[color=662d91]“Special Agent Talia A. LeCroix,”[/color] she informed the security guard. “I’ve been called in for a new assignment.” She presented her Bureau ID. Exchanging nods with one of the guards, she followed him into foyer, and awaited further direction.