Participants:
Also featuring: Mr. Gregory Lane
Scene Title | Of Sealed Orders |
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Synopsis | Sabra's shadow is sent to distribute her directives in silence and secrecy. |
Date | May 25, 2009 |
Primatech Research: Offices
The atmosphere in the offices of Primatech Research is much as usual — largely quiet, with the sussurus of keyboard clatter, mouse clicks, and faint snatches of music providing a backdrop to verbal silence. Of course, even that silence isn't perfect, as people toss around occasional questions, comments, and demands for reports.
Ashton walks past the wing's receptionist with a pleasant smile for the young woman; receives a quiet 'Good morning, sir' in return. He makes his way down the corridor, course set unerringly for one particular door and the individual behind it; the aide doesn't pause even to wave at those whose offices he passes, though many of their occupants peer curiously after him. Ashton is not a frequent visitor here — there are usually a few more steps in the communication chain. The swift convenience of emails. Or he comes in his role as Sabra Dalton's shadow, a footnote to her presence.
Mr. Gregory Lane looks up at the figure which appears in his doorway, blinks in surprise, then rises from his seat behind the desk. "Mr. Yorke. What can I do for you?" Ashton waves him back down to the chair, stepping up to the front of the desk and proffering an envelope. A small, unlabeled bit of paper with a foil seal holding the flap closed.
Gregory takes the envelope, looking down at its blank surface for a moment before sliding his finger under the seal and popping the flap open. Extracting the folded page within, he reads it once, twice, brows drawing low; the only sounds in the room are the faint rustle of paper and the background ticking of a clock's second hand.
Gregory lifts his gaze to the silent man waiting patiently on the opposite side of the desk. "She's set on this? All of it?"
Ashton inclines his head in a grave nod.
Gregory's lips press into a thin line. "Okay. I'll get in touch with Homeland and start the transfer. What ab— " The words are cut off at a raised hand from Ashton. "— All right." Gregory gives the aide a rueful smile. "I'll stay out of what's not my business, and let you do your job." Folding the paper, he tucks it back into the envelope and returns the item to Ashton. "Thank you."
Ashton dips his head again, then turns and walks back down the hall. In the wing's lobby, under the curious but respectfully silent eye of the receptionist, he drops the envelope into a confetti shredder. The young woman is given another polite smile before Ashton leaves the wing.
A second envelope is produced from the pocket of his suit-jacket, and Ashton sets off for the next stop on today's list of errands.