Juniper's birthday came and went without any fanfare--she hadn't really shared it, thinking it unimportant, and the fact that she was twenty-one now didn't really register. There were other things on the young tiger's mind, such as the concluding semester at school and her hectic, unstable work schedule.
Still, it wasn't too bad. She got to see the city, riding her bike hither and yon, and keeping busy seemed to be the best way to stay even-keeled and out of trouble.
Today was a rare day off, but she'd decided to get out of the apartment anyway. She had no plan when she got on her bike--the beach was open, even if it was a bit cold. There was also always something to see down in Balmoral, or up at Baxendale. She briefly considered harassing Max, but when she concentrated on their link, she sensed him out in Newton, which meant he was probably at work. Important firefighting work, to her perception, so she started toward the familiar old brownstone. Work that only seemed less important because of her familiarity with the Exchange's day to day.
Locking her bike up against the front fence, she strolled up the steps and pushed inside. Peterson was at the front desk, the field agent who'd ostensibly drawn the short straw on receptionist shifts. He knew her face and just gave her a wave as she passed before hitting play whatever he was watching on his phone.
Once inside the main bullpen, she greeted another passing agent, making a habitual beeline for the break room to check for snacks. Finding a sleeve of cookies, she started making rounds through the quiet business of the desks, chatting with the people she knew. She ended up stopping at Dune's desk for about twenty minutes, eventually dropping her bag there while she asked intrusive questions about her cool new arm. The older woman took it in good-humor, indulging the young tiger while she typed up a report. Once she was done and hit print, however, she interrupted the girl with a smile and briskly ordering her to take that, and a huge box over to the Inquisitor's office.
She balanced her sleeve of cookies on top of the file box and the newly printed report, and started off for Theo's office. Finding the door partially open, she kicked at the base of the jamb, knocking that way as she called earnestly, “Hullo, Mr. Crowhurst. Special delivery.”
Still, it wasn't too bad. She got to see the city, riding her bike hither and yon, and keeping busy seemed to be the best way to stay even-keeled and out of trouble.
Today was a rare day off, but she'd decided to get out of the apartment anyway. She had no plan when she got on her bike--the beach was open, even if it was a bit cold. There was also always something to see down in Balmoral, or up at Baxendale. She briefly considered harassing Max, but when she concentrated on their link, she sensed him out in Newton, which meant he was probably at work. Important firefighting work, to her perception, so she started toward the familiar old brownstone. Work that only seemed less important because of her familiarity with the Exchange's day to day.
Locking her bike up against the front fence, she strolled up the steps and pushed inside. Peterson was at the front desk, the field agent who'd ostensibly drawn the short straw on receptionist shifts. He knew her face and just gave her a wave as she passed before hitting play whatever he was watching on his phone.
Once inside the main bullpen, she greeted another passing agent, making a habitual beeline for the break room to check for snacks. Finding a sleeve of cookies, she started making rounds through the quiet business of the desks, chatting with the people she knew. She ended up stopping at Dune's desk for about twenty minutes, eventually dropping her bag there while she asked intrusive questions about her cool new arm. The older woman took it in good-humor, indulging the young tiger while she typed up a report. Once she was done and hit print, however, she interrupted the girl with a smile and briskly ordering her to take that, and a huge box over to the Inquisitor's office.
She balanced her sleeve of cookies on top of the file box and the newly printed report, and started off for Theo's office. Finding the door partially open, she kicked at the base of the jamb, knocking that way as she called earnestly, “Hullo, Mr. Crowhurst. Special delivery.”