Special Agent | ✓

Four

(a/n: here's the wednesday update! enjoy ;))

FOUR

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Adina had been right, as she usually was. The pair of them had been herded by red-eyed security guards to a meeting room at the very top of the building. The room in question was the only one occupying the highest floor, accessible only through a special code which one punched into the elevator's keypad.

Quinn had only been there once before, when she'd first been taken under Adina's wing as a trainee. She'd been asked to fetch some documents from Tibble's office, and had stumbled over her words as she'd stepped into the very 'chiefs-only' stamped meeting in which Adina had been sitting. Not that Adina had cared.

"Take a seat, O'Reilly," she'd said, allowing Quinn to sit in on the meeting's final fifteen minutes.

Now, however, Quinn was no longer an eager trainee. No, the second time she stepped into the meeting room of the top floor, she was little more than a criminal standing trial. The room looked very much the same. A long, wide oak table occupied its midst, surrounded by at least twenty chairs. Above said table was a glass roof, offering views of a pale yellow sky. Through the windows at either side of the walls, one saw the sun start its climb across the London skyline.

Grand bookshelves lined the walls of the room. Two movable high-tech screens stood at opposite ends of the table. There was a chess table by one of the bookcases. From Quinn's vantage point, she could see that one of the pieces had slipped off and rested on the floor.

Same, little pawn, same.

They were not the first to arrive, which made Quinn's eyes seek the floor as they moved inside. From the moment the elevator doors had opened, she'd plastered herself by Chief Tibble's side. Adina looked unbothered, nodding in acknowledgment at her colleagues as she crossed to the other side of the room.

"You're sitting next to me," stated Adina, and that was that. Quinn gratefully sat down in the chair, though she had to stop herself from anxiously tapping her foot against the floor. One of the movable TV screens lit up, announcing the time: 05.48

Adina had brought no documents. Quinn risked a glance at some of the other Chiefs currently present — she recognized only two: Chief Havas, and Chief Sanders. Havas sought her eyes and smiled cruelly, which made Quinn wish she hadn't raised her eyes from the ground.

Don't let it get to you. Tibble's words ran through her mind. Instead of submitting to the egoistical Chief, Quinn raised an inquisitive brow. Immediately, color rose to Havas' face. Sanders was quick to tap his co-chief's shoulder, angrily whispering at him.

More people filed into the room. There was an almost invisible divide regarding the seating: chiefs who worked close with intelligence filled the table closest to Adina, while the others placed themselves at the opposite end.

The two Chiefs of technology and tactics sat next to Adina and Quinn, offering a supportive nod. Quinn glanced at the digital clock on the screen: 05.56.

More people filed in. A tired, grouchy Imani Sarraf made her way to the middle of the room. Her eyes scoured the people at the table until they fastened themselves on Quinn. Their look was intense, and very pointed. Then Special Agent Sarraf nodded, an incredibly small movement. Quinn offered a slight smile in return, before rearranging her expression into one of indifference.

A few moments later, Special Agent Scott Davidson appeared out of the elevator. His blonde hair was ruffled, eyes shadowed behind sharp glasses as he nimbly crossed the room in long strides. He wore a casual long-sleeved shirt, though the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing muscled under-arms threaded with veins. He seated himself next to Sarraf, bowing his head as he whispered directly in her ear.