Quinn tried not to show her discomfort when Doctor Follen asked her to...write down her dreams, and try to converse. That disgusted feeling had fallen into the background a bit, but it still lurked just underneath the surface. She took a deep breath and nodded, then—

It wasn't time for another reminder—

She bolted up, staring at her phone with confusion and concern writ across her face, all thoughts of dreaming forgotten. She'd only been to the war room one or two times. It really [i]was[/i] important if she was headed there.

"[color=FFE63D]Sorry. Something [i]important[/i] just came up. We'll catch up later, okay?[/color]" She curved out of his office, this time keeping a quick jog through the halls of the medical wing, earning her a few irritated looks that she did her best to ignore. There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she knew, and she recognized it with dread. Just like in Hovvi: a crushing certainty that something [i]terrible[/i] was about to happen.

Cutting across the plaza and weaving back and forth between people, she darted into the stairwell. It'd take too long to grab an elevator right now and that [color=black]Quinnlash[/color] fear was still coursing through her. Taking the steps two, then three at a time, she blazed a path up the flights. By the time she arrived at the solid metal door she was out of breath again. 

Taking a moment to catch it, she heaved the door open and strode in, still breathing hard. Besca was standing there, a look on her face that did nothing to assuage Quinn's anxiety. Dahlia was there too—maybe she hadn't gotten into the sims yet when she'd gotten called—and her expression wasn't any better.

Her voice only shook the tiniest bit when she spoke. She was pretty proud of that. "[color=FFE63D]What's going on?[/color]