This room was a bit different from the lobby. It was quite sparce, business
like. One got the impression that fun was never had in this room. That it
was a place of dread of those that got called there. Or perhaps it was
thebronze plack on the wall that read:
"Somedays you get the bear. Somedays the bear gets YOU." - H. Norman
Schwartzkopf, the "Bear", General, US Army.
Michael shook his head, Maggie chuckled. "Typical military," Michael said. "It
gets dressed up in a lot of ways, but it always comes down to one guy trying to
prove that his unit is bigger than another guys."
"Hey, *you're* military, Mr. Lt Colonel," Maggied pointed out to him.
"I'm marine corps reserve," he shot back. "So I only have to try and prove my
manhood a weekend a month and two weeks a year."
(then *she* walked in)
Katya snorted a little with humor. First, that an American would be called a
Bear, the representation of Russia, and second, the thought made her pleased;
yes, sometimes the Russian Bear did get you. And when it did...
A few short moments later the doors open to reveal another human. This one
was dressed in black leather pants, and a white top beneath a black leather
coat. She did not look like anything that Starfleet would have...
Her eyes became those of a wolf's; suspicious, hungry, investigating. So,
there was more to it than a simple joint operation. These two looked like
cops, so they must be FBI. She nodded politely, keeping her movements
reserved, cautious. "Greetings," she said in Russian-accented Standard.
Michael nodded a hello. "Welcome," he said. Her movements were exact, yet
economical. She had a grace she was trying to hide. And a figure to compliment
that grace, which she was trying a little less to hide. "Michael Nash," he
introduced himself, "FBI." It didn't look like she knew that. So maybe this
wasn't to be a bitch session about the take-down on Spacedock. This woman wasn't a
lawyer, and she certainly wasn't a reporter.
"Maggie Coyne," Maggie introduced herself. "Trusty sidekick."
