The rain stopped and it was somewhat enough of a comfort already, even though the wind was still rushing and cutting, to be felt almost like a drag of a blade across the cheeks. Abigail pulled the collar of her coat up to cover her neck from the wind and went on walking around the city - towards the address the detective gave to her. She stayed in the bar enough for the time gap of two hours Montag gave to her to pass; it was obvious why he needed one - not only to simply rest and relax, but too - to make his mind over what’s been told today; at least Abigail thought so as she spend her time in the bar deep in the thoughts as well. It was not easy to comprehend what was told, not easy to comprehend the context, and was not easy to comprehend what they were tasked to do with. Doubts were raging in her head, doubts caused by the long history of her fighting with her own arising cynicism - how much could one bear hoping that these miserable people would find peace in God’s hands? Hope was not enough and the erosion caused by spilling blood was sometimes too much to bear. 

But she could not allow herself to be weak or indifferent when there is a life of an innocent on a stake. That thought stayed solid enough in her head, probably among few other solid thoughts remained there. It was not a mere chance that she was chosen to do the job - among many she was picked to do so. Not by that Mary woman - that was certain, even aside from her being an envoy for some other kind of a party. There was a motion of God’s will upon Abigail’s path, giving her new direction.
After all she hoped so. For the first time in many years. 

The path towards the address Montag gave her was not too long. She knew the city pretty well, for someone who might drop a random glance on her it might’ve come as a surprise - judging by her impression of a woman merely steeped out of the boat from the Old World. But the impression was false at that, as due to living among the poor she had to know all the hidden little alleys here and there. As well as people living around, and parties interested in her job, even though she never even thought of it as her job, or her cause - the supplies wouldn’t appear in her bag out of nowhere after all. Come to think of it again, Abigail found herself floating down the stream of events she thought she had no power over, and this path led her to this point. That thought cheered her up. There was a great plan in all of this. 

“[color=f26522]Oi… now ta’ not ta’ pick the wrong door..[/color]”, she mumbled under her breath as she stood in front of the building and looked around it. There was indeed something humorous as well as quite logical and fitting for a private detective to have their office just in the same building with the newspaper. Stepping inside of the building the redhead doctor looked around and was sure to not to confuse herself - the line was clear: “The staircase on your right”. She looked on her right and indeed she saw the staircase in question, aiming to get towards it.