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| Scene Title | Mystery Visitor |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Idle agents-trainee speculate as to the purpose and intentions of a woman who has taken up residence in a conference room. |
| Date | June 14, 2021 |
There is a visitor in the office.
That's not unusual.
What's unusual is it looks like the visitor is sleeping here. Her hair looks slightly disheveled. The conference room in particular that she's come from has a cot in it. The blinds are drawn, cordoning it off for privacy.
Standing in front of the coffee pot in the kitchenette, Emily Epstein narrows her eyes at the conference room across the floor, her task in coming here forgotten. She lets out a quiet, disgruntled hrm at the whole situation. This feels similar to when she was locked in a conference room after mysteriously reappearing overnight back in April. She's actively frowning, empty paper cup in hand as she contemplates this problem:
What the fuck is Wright Tracy doing bunking in a SESA conference room?
Looking like he was up late the night before, Kendall heads for the coffee, pausing when he sees Emily standing in front of the pot, blocking it. "Uh, are you gonna…" he trails off and gestures to it, but she's staring off into the distance. Noticing this, he turns slightly to see what she's looking at, and blinks a few times as he likely tries to figure out the same thing as Emily.
"Uh. Are we allowed to have squatters in a government facility?" Kendall asks finally after a moment.
"Never stopped me." Another presence seems to alight from nowhere at Kendall's elbow, Dumortier's comment clipped up by an additional, "Kidding. Nothing's that comfortable here." It seems that he's also gotten a cup of coffee elsewhere, given the reusable mug in his hand. An oasis elsewhere. "Least nothing I've seen. Who is it?" Both light brows raise up between Emily and Kendall, though more the former.
"A Wolfhound employee," Emily informs with dry suspicion and disapproval both. She finally sets her cup down and reaches for the bowl of coffee, frowning to herself. "What the fuck she's doing here, I have no idea," she mutters.
The sign on the door to the office of one half of the Executive Secretariat is flicked over from Clean to Dirty, alerting the bullpen to the presence of the occupant. Unlike the others, she does not seek coffee in the kitchenette.
Making a beeline for the refrigerator, Nicole Miller retrieves a tall bottle of irish cream flavored creamer and steps away from the knot of conversation. First, she checks the ‘use by’ date, squinting at the label until she finds it, seemingly unbothered by the topic at hand. The sniff test comes next, to be doubly safe. Only then does the creamer get added to her travel mug of coffee.
“Better watch it with Wolfhound,” she remarks without looking up from her methodical stirring, assessing, and further addition of cream. “That’s talk shit, get hit territory.” Satisfied with her ratios, the lid on the cream is snapped shut, the thermos’ top screwed back on, and her return trip to the fridge is made. “Additionally, I’m reasonably certain Wright Tracy can kill you six different ways with just her pinky finger.” The chocolate-haired agent tips down her ever-present sunglasses and glances around. “So poke that bear at your own peril.”
Nudging her designer shades back into place, she starts to back out of the kitchen area, likely to lurk in her office for an hour or two to catch up on e-mail and paperwork, then head back out again to continue her sabbatical. (Workaholic.)
Brows bouncing up just once, Nicole smirks. “Good luck.”
Kendall blinks a few times when more people pop out of the woodwork, as it were. It's too early for this. "Wolfhound, huh. Doesn't explain what she's doing here. Don't they have their own base thing?" He eyes the pot when Emily grabs it, then his gaze wanders over to the mugs in Nicole's and Dumortier's hands. Huh, there must be a secret stash somewhere. Well Nicole probably has her own pot, but where did that guy get coffee?
"I mean I wasn't planning on picking a fight anyway." Kendall adds after a moment, shifting his feet. "Although I'd like to think I'm a bit harder to hit than that."
A shadow can be seen moving against the back of the conference room's blinds. Wright hasn't spent much time cleaning the cluttered meeting space, partially because she needs relatively little space to perform her job here. Mostly because cleaning up after somebody whose job it is to do that creates a bad precedent in which the responsible party may mistakenly think they're no longer obligated to do so.
She has rifled through everything, dividing things amongst drawers in the refreshment cabinet by how useful they are to get in the long term. This morning she was reasonably happy to find a coffee mug gift set, even though the block text reading 'Don't talk to me before I've added the whiskey' is a constant reminder of how much she could go for a drink right now. She digs a latched glass jar of medium-coarse ground coffee from her duffle bag, grabbing the coffee mug on her way to dump out whatever's already in the office coffee pot.
Dumortier knows far better than to provoke the Get Hit crowd; he's periodically one of them, he gets it. He stays lingering aside as Nicole moves in her usual deliberate way, still watching the closed up room through the mild introduction to whoever is inside, thanks to NIcole. The name is enough to remember, it's to say the least uncommon. Kendall's chiming is partly channeled away in favor of keeping an eye on the shadow behind the blinds drawn in the conference room.
Naturally, when he gets the chance, Rene chirps away at Wright with a, "Good morning, don't mind the rubbernecking." Just curious. Hello.
A certain someone sweeps aside as Nicole makes her movie star exit out of the kitchenette, giving her a wide berth. Thomas Cooper gives her a lop-sided smile. “Mrs. Miller once you’ve had your morning caffeine, the paparazzi needs some autographs…” There is a minute pause as she continues toward her office. “It’s me… I’m the paparazzi. I have those forms ready,” he calls after her.
Thomas is far more groomed than normal. His beard is trimmed, hair combed, and all. Even his favorite red Converse have been switched out for a nice pair of dress shoes.
Wright gets an odd look, but… it’s not the first time people have stopped by… or stayed? He doesn’t move until Wright moves past him towards the coffee. Though he doesn’t follow right away… Cooper seems like he is double thinking about joining the crowd. Instead, he holds up the pink box in his hands with a big grin. “Uh… I brought breakfast. Epstein, I made sure to get your favorite. And Groot… you seem like a Bearclaw kinda person.”
That information passed, Cooper inches in far enough to set the box on the table, before scooting back out again.
Suddenly put in a situation where she has to choose between breakfast treats (and a secondary choice of whether or not to trust Cooper) and leaving with all haste because of the nearing presence of a Wolfhound employee, Emily momentarily locks up. With the beginnings of a scowl, she murmurs a disgruntled fuck as she stirs sugar into her cup. Alas, she does not disappear the way she might like to.
Instead she almost unwillingly drifts in the direction of the box Cooper has left behind, with the full intention on hunting him down afterward. Either to thank him or curse his name is yet to be seen.
"Oh it's the donuts guy." Dirk had told Kendall about a certain Thomas Cooper, and even tried to get him to play a joke on him but it fell through. But more importantly now, Emily finally moved away from the coffee, so Kendall moves in to claim a cup for himself. Once claimed, he steps away, eying Wright when she approaches. OK, but who is she, aside from a potentially murderous individual?
He takes a sip of his coffee as he does so, then grimaces and reaches over to grab a stirrer. Sticking it in his cup alone, he stirs the hot liquid, and it somehow lightens a few shades without anything being added. Kendall takes another cautious sip and nods in approval, tossing the stick in the garbage. "Morning." Sorry, Wright, you definitely have a group staring at you.
Wright pauses mid step when she feels the attention on her, squinting as the door to the conference room clacks shut behind her. "Hi?" she says in a drawn out tone and a smile that seems uncertain. She looks around just in case the agents are merely looking in her direction on their way to looking somewhere else.
She walks toward the group regardless, tucking the jar of coffee beneath her arm. She looks over each agent in turn as she makes the short trip, meaning to nod in recognition to Emily but prevented from doing so by the other woman's own interest in the donut box.
"Good morning," she says to the group as she slips through toward the coffee pot. "I'm Wright," she continues as she teaches for the half full carafe and upends the contents unceremoniously into the sink.
Cooper's gifts are appreciated, even if Dumortier still lets the nickname go over his head. He was never a comic reader, at least not as a kid; asking about it got a flabbergasted Cooper and something about alien plant people. That tracked. Waiting for the others to get at the box first, it allows Rene a moment more to study Wright as she joins the loiterers and makes herself quite at home.
"We could have always used that to water the fake plants." Dumortier asides out loud as his turn to wheedle his way into the donuts comes.
"Oh my god, please don't," Emily replies offhandedly in a voice that barely carries, head sinking a little bit more forward in her desire to simply vanish. A napkin wraps around the doughnut meant for her and then she heads for the doorway at immediate speed, head still ducked low and eyes averted as she makes her escape.
"Assuming that's a name and not a declaration of the veracity of your opinion." Kendall grins. "Nice to meet you, I'm Kendall. This is Grookey." He gestures innocently towards Dumortier, casually taking a step to the side away from him. Whether or not he's familiar with Pokemon remains to be seen, of course… Or Wright, for that matter. "Don't mind us…"
He watches the destruction of the coffee and shrugs lightly, lifting his cup to take a sip. "Make yourself at home. Watch out for the donuts though." Emily already grabbed one so if there is something wrong with them, they'll find out pretty quickly.
Emily just gets a tiny smile out of Dumortier, his reaction tempered only by who it is. He has a measure of folks now, more or less. He's tentative when he steals a bearclaw and takes a small bite; just checking, and it's fiiine. At least his is.
"The hell is a Grookey?" Kendall, however, gets the full serving of sass as Dumortier turns back to him, then waves it off to introduce himself properly. "Rene, not whatever he's decided to insult me with."
Wright's reaction is clearly one of somebody who's already heard every name-based joke life can throw at a woman with a last name for a first name and a first name for a last name. She merely tips her head back, breathes in slowly, and shakes her head with a rather insincere smile. "Every work environment has a nicknames guy," she says, running water into the carafe and swishing it around before dumping it out and filling it completely. "At my job there was a nicknames woman, and she gets a pass because she's my partner's girlfriend so I really can't say anything. But yes, my name is Wright and also I am only ever correct in all things and that is a true, indisputable fact."
Elliot hums in hard learned agreement. He's only here for the coffee too.
She lets the plastic lid of the carafe snap down to punctuate the sentence. Under her carefully and methodically applied makeup is the mildly homicidal expression of someone who has now gone three full days without sleeping for longer than a rare fifteen minutes here or there. It takes her a moment to realize that Emily snuck away, though she isn't one to try to force people into awkward water cooler banter anyway.
She adds the water to the machine and busies herself with the disposal of the previous batch's grounds, still hot. "Lovely to meet you, Rene," she politely greets Dumortier, none of the former sass in her tone. She fights a coffee filter with her fingertips to free it from the clutches of a stack, a task which takes far longer than she feels it should.
"Yeah, well, something to relieve the tedium, to be honest." When Rene admits he doesn't know what a Grookey was, Kendall sighs, shaking his head. Dumi clearly is not a geek. He didn't respond to being called Groot either, there's no saving him, alas. "Ah." snapping his fingers, a little green monkey with a couple leaves growing out of its head appears out of thin air on the ground in front of them. "That's a Grookey." The Pokemon runs over to him and climbs up his shoulder as he tries not to smile. Really, isn't that every kid's dream?
When Rene bites the donut, Kendall scrutinizes him for a minute. "No mustard filling this time? Cat litter? Salt?"
"So you're calling me some kind of monkey?" Dumortier echoes in disbelief, though seemingly amused at the antics of the illusion. Cute, fine. He takes a second look at the pastry in his hand. "Nothing yet. I suspect he is trying to lull me into complacency, because he knows what I can do." It's a tease at the expense of someone not here.
"If I were you I'd cut into the other ones, though. I can't account for non-bearclaws."
"Isn't Agent At Donut King Nine One One already the resident nicknames guy?" Wright asks without looking behind her. "Do you two have to battle for nickname dominance?" She's never actually met Agent Cooper in the real world, merely in dreams and on Discord.
She unclasps her jar of coffee grounds and breathes in the scent greedily before filling the filter basket, measuring with her heart. After a satisfying click of the machine's start button she sighs and begins rummaging through the various drawers in the kitchenette.
Dissatisfied with the results of her search she turns around to ask a question only to be momentarily baffled by the appearance of an unnatural animal. "You have a Baird!" she says instead, assuming the name will mean nothing to Kendall. She's never actually met Seren either, but that's immaterial.
"Well to be fair, thousands of years ago we were all monkeys, and we of all people know the power of evolution." Kendall grins over at Dumortier. "At least it's cute. I could've called you a Shiftry instead." Another wave of his hand, and the monkey fades from view and another Pokemon, decidedly not cute, appears in front of them. When Wright brings up Baird, though, Kendall laughs, shaking his head. He waves a hand and the uglier Pokemon disappears into the aether. "I wish. Sadly, my illusions are 100% fake, Baird is several rungs up the ladder of awesomeness." he sounds crestfallen at that, aware of his own shortcomings. "These are just Pokemon."
"Also, I prefer cooperation." Pause. "Cooper-ation." Smiiiirk. "Brainstorming sessions to find the absolute best nickname for people ever."
"Ah, Pokemon." Spoken like someone who knows a few by proxy only. Dumortier seems unphased by the change of illusion, though now Kendall is certainly getting a mental note or three in the rolodex. "Surely there's a cuter one." Because he'd prefer that, clearly. "Between you and him, I get a lot of 'Groot'. Which apparently, is a tree alien in a comic book." Rene shares this as more an aside to Wright, who he has entrusted to not give him a new name. For now.
Wright smiles sympathetically at Rene. "The only way to respond to non-consensual nicknaming is to go full black ops revenge, early and often," she suggests helpfully, almost certainly joking. "I'm not sure what your agency's policy is on rappelling through the ceiling tiles in war armor, so you might want to check before following my advice."
She looks back to the coffee pot, saddened that it's only now starting to sizzle the water off of the burner. "I never got into Pokemon," she directs to Kendall. "I mean, one time I kicked a child's ass and stole his Pokemon cards and then gave them to my partner, but in my defense we were also children and that kid was a bully. I have been watching a lot of Japanese movies recently though, while I still understand Japanese." Such skills are apparently very temporary.
"Yeah. Groot, Guardians of the Galaxy, best friend with Rocket Raccoon." Which makes perfect sense, naturally. "As for cuter, hmm… Not that many grass types that are that aren't like… flowers and stuff, but… maybe Leafeon? And yeah… I never got my ass kicked over that, but those were dark days." Spoken like a true veteran of The War. Suddenly realizing he's been derailed from the Wright conversation, he blinks. "Wait. Why are we talking about Pokemon? Let's save this conversation for another time."
Nevermind it was Kendall's fault to begin with; guess it's up to Dumortier if he cares enough to bring it up again. He looks over at Wright, then at the conference room she emerged from. "So, uh. Why are you camping out here, by the way? Conference rooms aren't exactly comfortable." Pause. "Not that you aren't welcome, of course." But it's still weird.
Dumortier actually laughs along with Wright's tale of taking from a bully; it doesn't sound terribly unfamiliar, honestly. He hasn't lost that scrappy part. Kendall's re-training on why Wright is there comes as he sips at the covered coffee in his hand, amused to say the least.
"In the doghouse?" Maybe someone is doing a favor.
“I found out the truth about the JFK assassination," Wright says, shrugging with her hands as she leans back against the counter. You know how it is.
Blank stare. "A little late for that, don't you think?" Kendall thinks it over rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Then again, I guess if you have a time traveler in your pocket, it's never too late for anything." He scrutinizes Wright again. "Unless you're a time traveler."
“Nothing like that,” Wright assures them with a dismissive wave. “Voss just wants to keep me close because it was the CIA.”
While a part of him wouldn't really be surprised- - the look Wright gets from Rene is a sigh given shape. He leans in closer to Kendall, lifting his cup to not so subtly aside, "It's totally the doghouse."
“I won’t rule that out, but I can only encourage idle speculation as to why,” Wright says. “For my own tired amusement. Because, honestly? I don’t think there is anyone in this Agency with the clearance to know why I am here.” That’ll get them percolating.
"Yeah, might have to agree with you there." Kendall asides back to Rene with not even a token attempt to hide. "Wonder what happened, maybe… Left an empty container of milk in the fridge. Or perhaps broke a favorite ornament and hid it. Or, the secret shrine to Justin Beiber was found, that's practically a war crime, there." Wright is still the center of attention whether she likes it or not! "What do you think?"
When Kendall mentions the shrine, Dumortier makes a face like a cat who's smelled something it hates, gag and all. Oh, god, no.
"Clearly it was not telling them how the CIA did JFK. Clearly."
“Yeah,” Wright grimaces, “no. I don’t really go for blonde men.”
“Wow,” Elliot says.
“Also, you believing that the CIA didn’t do JFK is a psyop,” she continues, ignoring her partner’s indignation. Her attention turns to the coffee pot, now finally showing some progress but agonizingly far from completion. She sighs, deciding that since the world is going to end she may as well shirk all social graces. Only a small dribble of coffee lands on the burner as she quickly pulls the carafe free and places her coffee mug in its place.
"Well they also said they finally found the identity of Jack the Ripper. But aside from people finding out they're related to a mass murderer, no real impact." Kendall's gaze swings over to Wright again. "Unless you're a time traveler." He takes a sip of his own coffee, which had reverted to its original dark shade. He glares at it, and it lightens back to what he had it at; he got distracted.
"You are really into the time traveling thing, aren't you?" Dumortier laughs softly, though still apprehensive. He's seen a lot himself, but this one is a different breed. Sometimes the fantastical is just more appealing. Like turning your coffee lighter to possibly trick yourself into liking the contents?
"Nothing that spectacular, I'm afraid," Wright admits sadly. The beginning of the job was certainly spectacular, and she is adjacent to what is technically time travel. Right now though she's half of a communications relay with nothing to relate other than Elliot tiredly scrubbing his tired face with a rag dipped in desalinated water. None of it can be disclosed without getting relocated from her conference room to a prison cell.
"You really do seem fascinated with the time travel possibility," she says with a chuckle. "You'd probably get along with my partner Elliot, he can't stop talking about needlessly complex time travel ethics hypotheticals and is less stringent on the nicknames thing."
Elliot grunts in acquiescence.
"Well since I wouldn't be here to have this conversation if it wasn't for time travel, I'm a little indebted to it. Nothing super important involved in it though, just someone who cared enough to do anything to get me back. I traveled to the future." Kendall seems inordinately pleased with himself even though he didn't really do anything himself. "So technically I was dead for a month, if you consider 'not existing' to be the same as 'dead'." Kendall glances over in Rene's direction. "Though to be fair, there seems to be a large number of people like that. I've already suggested with someone else that we need a 'I Died But Got Better' support group. IDBGB doesn't quite roll off the tongue though so the name needs a little work."
In debt to time travel isn't unbelievable, and he himself has experienced some sort of- - tear- - but there's still doubt over whether or not such things are plentiful enough to be considered commonplace. Like how some things are just rarer by proxy, right?
"It's not the same as dead." Dumortier adds, hesitantly. "Not …really. Displacement wouldn't be the same." He seems to decide this on the fly, as if discussing it over with himself just one more time. "Support group makes it sound like a problem." It's not. Nope.
"Non-chronological Event Witness Therapy?" Wright muses at Elliot's prodding. "NEWT." She's not thrilled with the acronym, but she's too tired to suggest anything herself.
She returns her attention to her coffee, hand darting out to grab her mug before it becomes too full to avoid sloshing her drink all over the countertop. The carafe is returned with less grace, distracted by already going for a sip of the too-hot beverage. It blooms in her senses, granting a surge of energy not related to the caffeine content. ##22EAA6|Elliot relishes it greedily, the closest he'll get to good coffee before the end of the world.
"Seriously though, never underestimate the therapeutic potential of a support group," Wright says. "Speaking of which, do either of you have a permanent marker?"
"I'll make t-shirts." Kendall replies with a straight face before looking back over to Rene. "That's where things get tricky, because no one really knows how time travel works. Did I actually die until someone made the decision to go back in time to prevent it from happening? Or was it already predestined before time travel was even a factor?" Water cooler existential crisis.
"And if someone went back in time to prevent that other time travel from taking place, would I wink out of existen-" perhaps predictably for someone who knows Kendall, he disappears from sight at that moment. Nope, no permanent markers here, not even a permanent person.
"Sorry, no- -" Dumortier starts to answer Wright offhandedly when Kendall's musing ends in his disappearance. Rather than disturbed he just seems put-upon. "Bro.", said with the same sort of tinge. "Don't go giving me a crisis with your Houdini shit." Because god knows that the possibility of it actually happening is dawning on him.
There's a hard two-count before Wright even questions what she just saw. "You can't hallucinate from only three nights without sleep, right?" she asks, fairly certain she has time before that actually becomes a problem. Her very recently obtained knowledge of the now missing agent assures her that this is almost certainly a prank and not actually time travel, but she's frustrated it took her so long to come to that conclusion. She takes a large sip of coffee to keep herself from splashing some toward where Kendall was standing just to determine if he's still there.
In fact, he wasn't still there, so he would've been perfectly safe from a coffee attack. Reappearing as he walks briskly from the direction of the cubicles, Kendall offers Wright a permanent marker with a flourish. It's purple. He'll, uh, put it back later. At least he didn't reappear behind her, maybe the comment earlier about combat specialist or whatever sunk in.
"He does illusory stuff." It's for Wright's sake that Rene explains in passing; it's okay to be confused, this place is a zoo. As Kendall reappears, it all gets the wave of his pastry hand as if to give his own flourish in turn,Ta-da, there's the boy. "And is a thief apparently, after my own heart." It takes one to know one, though, and that comes with an equally appropriate laugh.
"And here I thought we got out of hand at the Bastion," Wright says, offering Kendall a smile in exchange for the marker. Purple isn't optimal, but she may be able to make it work. She sets the mug on the counter, block print facing her, before crouching and popping the cap free of the marker. A test area wouldn't do, so she sets about quietly redacting ‘before I've added the whiskey’ from the cup, leaving behind only the, ‘Don't talk to me.’ The purple doesn't obscure the text perfectly, but she feels better regardless. “Thanks,” she says, tossing the marker back to Kendall before refilling her mug.
"Excuse. I borrowed it. I'll give it back." Kendall shoots Rene an aggrieved look, shaking his head. "I would never do that! She won't even notice it's gone." Well one can only hope; there's a reason he decided to go get a marker after his little vanishing trick. He shrugs at Wright as he catches the tossed sharpie, miraculously managing not to bobble it or spill his coffee all over himself, looking shocked and a little impressed he was able to successfully function in a competent fashion.
He sticks the marker in his pocket, then mock scowls at Rene. "Way to out me like that, I was trying to be mysterious. You know how many powers I could counterfeit? Teleportation, invisibility, pyrokinesis…" He holds up his empty hand and looks at it speculatively as it bursts into flame, and then he forms a fist and the flames vanish. "Instead, I guess I'll settle for coffee that tastes exactly like it smells." Now there's an impossibility right there. He takes a sip. "Heaven only knows the coffee is barely drinkable otherwise." The coffee maker is eyed at that, clearly Wright has some Premium Stuff there.
Dumortier watches Wright as she censors the mug with the marker, a brow raised though nothing else is said. Just a notation in the back of his mind, that's all.
"Hey, you do a great job of outing yourself on your own." Rene grouses back. "You need to learn how to sell it if you're going to pretend your way up the registration card ranks." There isn;t really such a thing, technically, but there are certainly indicators of such.
Wright nods in sympathy to Kendall's plight; good coffee is worth its weight in gold. She pulls the pot free again as soon as it's done sputtering, giving the contents a swirl. "If you take a cup when it's just started it's more potent," she explains, thumbing open the lid. "Gotta smoothe out the ride."
She dumps the coffee in her mug back into the pot, gives it another swirl for quality, then refills the mug. The more balanced aroma is sampled with meditative attention and care before she tests the temperature with a sip. "Too hot," she laments, pot still in hand.
"We got a guy who can help with that. And if you think jokes about your name are bad, this is a guy who can make things hot or cold… and his name is Byrne." Poor guy. "Not sure how he'd feel about keeping your coffee the perfect temperature until you're done drinking it though."
Kendall looks over at Rene next. "Why do I need to if I can just make you do all the hard work?" And just like that, there's now two Rene's standing there. "Good for an alibi too." and if it's not weird enough, he even sounds the same. Kendall knows how uncomfortable people tend to feel about it though and dispels the illusion with a smirk. "Never know who you're talking to."
Despite the teasing, Rene looks entertained at the mirroring. He raises both brows and muffles a stupid wolfy grin with the last bites of his pastry. A thumb nudges a crumb from the corner of his mouth, and all that he has to add is a drawl of, "Don't go mimicking something you can't handle. Never know who you're talking to."
A quick, timely glance to the wall clock at the coffee station is next; Dumortier angles a nod towards Wright and a sideways look to Kendall. "I've got some things to finish. Nice to meet you, Hound."
Wright is clearly unsettled by the appearance of an illusory body double and even the joking threat of identity theft. As Dumortier doesn't seem worried about it, she keeps thoughts on the matter to herself. "See you around, Rene," she says.
She glances at the clock, though she has nowhere to be. Her eyes lose focus momentarily, eyelids heavy. She snaps to attention again, shaking away the sleepiness. "Welp, thanks for the marker Kendall." With that she turns away, mug in one hand, coffee pot in the other, heading for the privacy of the conference room.
"See ya. And no problem, though if I knew you wanted a black one specifically I wouldn't have risked my life." Kendall jokes. "You're welcome." And on the subject of the permanent marker, he'll sneak off and hopefully return it before its owner even notices it was gone.