08-08-2018, 06:20 PM
Suspended without pay.
It seemed Marcil hadn't lied when he threatened to ruin her career.
Fortunately Soren did not seem to mind her staying. She barely saw him anyway; he was nearly always out doing whatever it was that occupied his days and often his nights, and when they spoke it was nearly always because he required something of her. 'Does this mean anything to you?', 'Protect this, Morven, it's important', 'Look at this for me, and tell me if you feel anything.'
His apartment was far finer than the tiny place her hospital wages paid for; it should have been luxury, but it was difficult to take her mind off work. The shifts she was missing, the people she did not treat, the lives she did not save. She knew Sage had survived his surgery, but nothing of his continued welfare -- though she'd tried to convince one of her colleagues to release his address. Perfectly illegal, but she'd tried anyway, and been utterly stonewalled.
It surged enough frustration that she almost slammed her fist into the desk, though she managed to refrain. She couldn't exactly afford another infraction to her record; it was bad enough she even asked.
A dose of caffeine did little to take the edge off the guilt, but it was too early in the day for anything stronger. Ensconced in a small coffee shop she called her sister instead, but Lyall was typically unsympathetic, insisting that it only proved Morven ought to come home. The Cairngorms were beautiful at this time of year, and the impassioned tone with which Lyall tried to lure her back stung her heart with nostalgia. Even just for a holiday, while this mess blew over. But duty's claws dug deep. Morven wouldn't leave.
A familiar face greeted her upon her exit. She tucked the phone in her back pocket, expression pinched with suspicion "You again," she said flatly.
"Miss Kinnaird. A moment of your time please." The suit gestured to the open car door, and Morven frowned.
It seemed Marcil hadn't lied when he threatened to ruin her career.
Fortunately Soren did not seem to mind her staying. She barely saw him anyway; he was nearly always out doing whatever it was that occupied his days and often his nights, and when they spoke it was nearly always because he required something of her. 'Does this mean anything to you?', 'Protect this, Morven, it's important', 'Look at this for me, and tell me if you feel anything.'
His apartment was far finer than the tiny place her hospital wages paid for; it should have been luxury, but it was difficult to take her mind off work. The shifts she was missing, the people she did not treat, the lives she did not save. She knew Sage had survived his surgery, but nothing of his continued welfare -- though she'd tried to convince one of her colleagues to release his address. Perfectly illegal, but she'd tried anyway, and been utterly stonewalled.
It surged enough frustration that she almost slammed her fist into the desk, though she managed to refrain. She couldn't exactly afford another infraction to her record; it was bad enough she even asked.
A dose of caffeine did little to take the edge off the guilt, but it was too early in the day for anything stronger. Ensconced in a small coffee shop she called her sister instead, but Lyall was typically unsympathetic, insisting that it only proved Morven ought to come home. The Cairngorms were beautiful at this time of year, and the impassioned tone with which Lyall tried to lure her back stung her heart with nostalgia. Even just for a holiday, while this mess blew over. But duty's claws dug deep. Morven wouldn't leave.
A familiar face greeted her upon her exit. She tucked the phone in her back pocket, expression pinched with suspicion "You again," she said flatly.
"Miss Kinnaird. A moment of your time please." The suit gestured to the open car door, and Morven frowned.