Snippet #2563173

Before her new "friend" could respond, something caught her ear. Her head whipped around, eyes narrowing warily. It had sounded metallic; hollow, even. A brief, dull echo. Nothing stood out in the least. It was just an empty, spottily lit street. Willing herself to relax a little, Amada focused again on the journalist.

"Ah, sorry about that." The kid said, obviously trying to act chastened. A good way to not get a bullet in you, that. Depending on who you were dealing with. As she stood, Amada was feeling somewhat humanitarian. The corners of her mouth quirked. "Sensationalize may be the wrong way to put it from where I am standing though. Someone is gonna talk, I may as well make a living out of it and get the facts straight. Leave it to the big news guys to 'sensationalize'" He smirked, maybe in an attempt at looking endearing. He was not about to win any awards with that route, however. "But I hear ya. My work here is done so I'll get outta here so you can do yours. I think I'll be fine finding my way out of here though. I'm just gonna head over there to get a drink first. Maybe it can stop my throat from tasting like shit. Have a good one." He started moving away cautiously, and she took slow steps to match his trajectory, but in the opposite direction. She was on the lookout for anything sudden, but it never came.

Nearly holstering her gun, Amada thought better of it and decided to keep the weapon at her side. The unexpected had the potential to do far more damage than a threat you already knew about. With the proper intel, you could raise your defenses, draw up contingencies and plan your defenses accordingly. The unknown - oldest of human fears, as it were - offered a game of chance and instinct. Right then, her gut was saying to keep the pistol firmly in her fist for as long as she was in the area.

After making sure the kid followed up on his word, she started on her way back toward the bulk of the security personnel. Some of them were performing sweeps, hunting for any tucked away pockets of their enemy. So far everything had been quiet in the wake, so the general assumption was they had all been cleared out.

"ETA on when we'll all be going home?" Amada queried, fishing for a cigarette case concealed in her coat. She hated staying on the job late. She preferred to keep a very strict divider between her work and personal life, and had long realized the necessity of balancing exposure to either. Too much work would make her angry, conversely enough down time was debilitating. Already the night had veered well into what were typically her hours. She really did not enjoy having her schedule tampered with, especially when there would not be any extra incentive to go along with nothing but a vapid smile.

"Nope," Parker immediately relayed.

"If I'd wanted the bush league bullshit, I would have specifically requested it. Mercer." Her request came out as a flat, but firm order.

"The first detail's set to arrive in a few minutes. A couple of birds, and one car. No telling how they're feeling. We might be off in ten minutes, or three hours." He was disgruntled, and it sounded like he was sinking deeper into his chair. Settling in for the long haul.

She made an exasperated noise in the back of her throat. "I swear to Christ, if I hear the words 'exorbitant' and 'force' in the same sentence tonight, I'm putting someone through a wall." Amada lit her cigarette, taking a deep drag immediately. Through a combination of psychological and physiological stimuli, it was already working. Her tightened nerves began to slacken, her head started to clear. She was walking along the sidewalk, eyeing the buildings, battered pavement, and ruined bodies scattered haphazardly. Her shoulders were loosened, gait fluid, eyes drifting aimlessly. Any sense of urgency had sufficiently faded, and nothing about her surroundings was of any real interest. "Let's just get this over with, already," she sighed.