"Howdy folk. Special delivery fer doctor...Cassar."

Abigail managed to make it halfway into the chapel before she really registered where she was and that wasn't remotely surprising; she looked [I]rough[/I]. Sickly. Her skin was pale and her eyes sunken with deep dark shadows underneath them, the irises glassy and unfocused as they rolled from face to face and her jaw slowly worked at the tongue she was biting. In her arms was a thick stack of papers. She wore the same outfit she had worn in the outback. With an unsteady and fluttering gait she stumbled to the altar and dumped the papers down, stopping briefly to regard the wooden tabletop and mutter "helluvasturdy desk" to herself in quiet contemplation. She did a sloppy one-eighty, shot some finger guns with a click of her tongue and hastily squeezed past Billy to make a beeline for the door; almost exactly how she scurried out of the briefing just before the mission, too.

Or at least she would have, if Brooks hadn't very loudly cleared his throat once she got a few feet from the exit.

The effect was immediate. He might as well have yanked the collar of her shirt with how promptly she arrested her movement. The woman sat next to him sighed through her nostrils but seemed unfazed by the girl's behaviour whilst Brooks turned his head a fraction of an inch to stare her down and Abigail jutted her chin out to stare back. The exchange lasted a few seconds but conveyed more than any meaningless conversation could have managed. With great reluctance and a healthy dose of stroppiness, the kid collapsed into one of the chairs in a disruptive clatter and slouched back to glower at her lap - a 'pew' forward and to the left of the two fighters, closest to the aisle. "Sylvia's waitin' fer me, y'know. I ain't supposed to dawdle." 

Dr. Cassar watched the progress of the juvenile insomnia-fiend with a mixture of concern, genuine interest, and understanding. 

“Oh, Sylvia? I know Sylvia quite well actually - don’t worry, I can let her know that you were doing something important. Actually, it’s good you’re here, I wanted to thank all of you for the work you did recently - and I also wanted to maybe talk about it a little bit. I thought it might be helpful if we all sat down and talk a bit about ourselves, so that we don’t sit on the stress of it so long that we explode, you know?” He looked around the little circle, speaking softly and slowly, using his arms to gesticulate gently with each point in that practiced but genuine way that the very sincere are sometimes good at.

“I can go first, if you would prefer.” He added after a moment.