01-04-2014, 04:58 PM
Jacques Danjou. The name rang a bell, but Torri couldn't place why. She dismissed the little voice of intuition. It'd probably come back to bite her in the ass later, but she was probably more strung out than she'd realized. Unfortunately, she was out of tea.
She pushed the cup and saucer aside in exchange for the introductions. Corporal Ime and his briefcase didn't get much more than a glazed over examination from Torri, at least not while he and his boss slapped the ball back and forth between their courts.
It was well and good for them they understood the bureaucracy because there wasn't much Torri could do for them otherwise but toe the lines expected of her. She'd think there'd be perks to being transferred into and heading up an entire core of a secret government military facility, but those kinds of things just came with more greater repercussions for failure rather than an actual increase in authority.
Jacques' comment about the Dark Continent tugged a pessimistic smirk out of her, though. The CCD's presence on African soil was enough that she very easily could have been there alongside them during her tours in operational medicine. Instead, she was sent to the other dark continent, South America.
This should meet your requirements, ma'am." He set another file folder out, separate to the other five, "The men we are currently seeking clearance to take up contracts in the CCD are isolated in our headquarters in Casablanca. This lists their current diet."
Between bored blinks, she pulled the file closer, but didn't look into too many details. She wondered whether the data had finally loaded back at her desk. Even now ideas crept into the back of her mind, she was onto something she couldn't quite track yet. She had samples from dozens of nations all around the world, including french districts.
She folded her hands across the file and thoughtfully watched Jacques' lips as he followed the corporal. The accent flowed like warm honey, heavy and sweet. He was certainly french. A french tongue, a french throat. Hell, even his smile was absurdly french.
She was already medulla deep in the information on her Wallet during the unfortunate mcdonald's joke. Information she'd opaqued from the opposite side so they couldn't spy on her screen.
She was tapping away, moving files, pulling up keywords, and searching for Jacques' personal records, and although she didn't look up, Torri managed to acknowledge the inside joke with flat disapproval. "McDonalds? Either you're into playing Russian Roulette with cancer or you're a cheap-skate, Mister Danjou. Did I say that right?"
She looked at him long enough to wink, and returned to ultrasonic keystrokes.
There he was. Jacques Danjou. The age was right. The ancestry was right. Practically every single demographic she could hope for, all of it right. Best of all, he was a long time resident of a continent isolated from his genetic home.
A last keystroke and the screen collapsed. The infrared keyboard disappeared. She looked Jacques dead in the eye. "It seems one thing is missing from your particular paperwork Mr. Danjou. I'm going to need to draw some blood."
That thing had nothing to do with his permits, but had everything to do with her piss poor polymorphism samples. Won't be piss poor for long.
She stacked the files and pushed to her feet, nodding, yes, right now. "If you'll follow me?"
She slipped the device back into her pocket and tucked the rest of the files under one arm.
She pushed the cup and saucer aside in exchange for the introductions. Corporal Ime and his briefcase didn't get much more than a glazed over examination from Torri, at least not while he and his boss slapped the ball back and forth between their courts.
It was well and good for them they understood the bureaucracy because there wasn't much Torri could do for them otherwise but toe the lines expected of her. She'd think there'd be perks to being transferred into and heading up an entire core of a secret government military facility, but those kinds of things just came with more greater repercussions for failure rather than an actual increase in authority.
Jacques' comment about the Dark Continent tugged a pessimistic smirk out of her, though. The CCD's presence on African soil was enough that she very easily could have been there alongside them during her tours in operational medicine. Instead, she was sent to the other dark continent, South America.
This should meet your requirements, ma'am." He set another file folder out, separate to the other five, "The men we are currently seeking clearance to take up contracts in the CCD are isolated in our headquarters in Casablanca. This lists their current diet."
Between bored blinks, she pulled the file closer, but didn't look into too many details. She wondered whether the data had finally loaded back at her desk. Even now ideas crept into the back of her mind, she was onto something she couldn't quite track yet. She had samples from dozens of nations all around the world, including french districts.
She folded her hands across the file and thoughtfully watched Jacques' lips as he followed the corporal. The accent flowed like warm honey, heavy and sweet. He was certainly french. A french tongue, a french throat. Hell, even his smile was absurdly french.
She was already medulla deep in the information on her Wallet during the unfortunate mcdonald's joke. Information she'd opaqued from the opposite side so they couldn't spy on her screen.
She was tapping away, moving files, pulling up keywords, and searching for Jacques' personal records, and although she didn't look up, Torri managed to acknowledge the inside joke with flat disapproval. "McDonalds? Either you're into playing Russian Roulette with cancer or you're a cheap-skate, Mister Danjou. Did I say that right?"
She looked at him long enough to wink, and returned to ultrasonic keystrokes.
There he was. Jacques Danjou. The age was right. The ancestry was right. Practically every single demographic she could hope for, all of it right. Best of all, he was a long time resident of a continent isolated from his genetic home.
A last keystroke and the screen collapsed. The infrared keyboard disappeared. She looked Jacques dead in the eye. "It seems one thing is missing from your particular paperwork Mr. Danjou. I'm going to need to draw some blood."
That thing had nothing to do with his permits, but had everything to do with her piss poor polymorphism samples. Won't be piss poor for long.
She stacked the files and pushed to her feet, nodding, yes, right now. "If you'll follow me?"
She slipped the device back into her pocket and tucked the rest of the files under one arm.