"Sister," said November, "do you mind if I vent to you for a minute? Because I'm kind of at the end of my extension cord here."

She took a deep breath. "So, first up, someone murdered my boss. And, honestly, props to them, wish I'd done it, the old lady was a pain in my fucking neck. Never took the time to listen to my reports, gather information or engage her senses, just did a cosmic fuckin' leap of assumptions in her head, and got it right just often enough that she never learned better. But for all of that, she was still rated as a combat asset capable of taking down a Rogal Dorn heavy battle tank in a duel, and some motherfucker walked in and took her out with a single bolt round to the brain. I still can't believe it. I've seen the old lady teleport through a spore mine field, warping out after detonation but before the acid singed her robe. Twenty times in sequence! If I wanted her dead I'd have put a dozen vehicle-mounted neutron lasers through her tower and considered it fifty-fifty, so the idea of someone doing it with a single fucking bolt round still doesn't sit fucking right with me."

"And naturally the followup is that instead of having to deal with one powerful wizard, now I have to deal with [i]six [/i]powerful wizards. All of them immediately started blaming each other, calling each others hereteks and murderers and calling up their robot legions and armies of kung fu lightning wizards and whatever-the-fuck. I have to split my assets six ways to bodyguard them, but more importantly to stop them outright shooting at each other. I think I could, with the entire Cohort and the element of surprise, take down [i]maybe [/i]three of them. So they're all trying to bribe, sweet talk, browbeat ecetera me into siding with them and I [i]cannot [/i]play wizard kingmaker. What if I choose wrong and put some sort of evil wizard in charge? They're all fucking convinced that one of them is evil!"

"And on top of all of this there's what I am fucking [i]praying [/i]is not an Astartes assassin at large inside my facility, one who has just added two more bodies to its fucking tally. And I've gotten reports of scary creepy things scurrying around. And there's this horrible wet rot in the walls that shouldn't be there, and it's freaking me the fuck out, and I want to burn it all to be safe but the flamethrower wizard isn't playing ball. And the [i]lights [/i]are fucking [i]out[/i]."

She was wearing mirrorshades. They weren't reflective enough to keep you from seeing the stress in her eyes.

"Which is all to say," she said, gesturing expansively - as one of her copies stuck Secunda in the neck with a needle. "The presence of an unsupervised Sister of Battle in the Isohedron cannot possibly make the situation worse. I'm microchipping this biotrash and promoting it to operational asset, registered to your armour's ident-code. It's yours for as long as you want it, but don't let it wander around unsupervised or I'll assume it is [i]part of the problem[/i]."

[Reassurance] You do not think that she is the killer. You do think that she needs some combination of a hug, a recaf, and a long beach vacation.

Hm. Maybe hold it on the recaf, actually. She's wearing a chemregulator, and the line is riding orange. She must have been awake for days and for all her sleek cool professional entrance she's on the edge. She's starting to make mistakes and they're going to get bigger and bigger the harder she pushes. If you want to ask her any questions, or get her to do anything, you'll need to spend Reassurance points to help her get her shit together enough to focus.