I ran into HQ, throwing apologetic glances at everyone, and seated myself gingerly beside Scarecrow. Foster/Dad looked over to check I was awake or something, and frowned. Oh no, here comes the lecture. I willed him silently not to start: I was after all twenty one years old. Not seventeen. I had been on a first date, and gotten drunk before, and ended up getting lost in the middle of the night. All of that was behind me. It's just that Clara is a bit of a part animal...we went to quite a few places. But we needed to catch up, and it was her birthday. I bet she wasn't getting any grief from her parents, newly found or otherwise.
Oh see now I was having a strop worthy of a sixteen year old. I looked back half asleep and then saw what he was trying to tell me. I looked down to my jacket and saw the toast crumbs spattered all down my front. I hurriedly brushed them off, trying to stay concentrated as the brief was delivered. Trouble was, I was still really tired. Like, really.
"....President's daughter....Korea....conflict....airport as soon as possible." Oh great. A hangover and jetlag, what a combination. Way to go for proving yourself professional there, Dani. Scarecrow turned to me, and I looked back a little dazed.
'Did you say something Dani?' he whispered. I blinked at him.
'...Was I talking? Sorry.' I shook my head a couple of times. 'I really can't shake this migraine.' I suddenly shot up straight in the chair, staring warily at the window. '...Is that a sniper there?'
Scarecrow started and ducked down as he turned, then a second later glared at me. 'God, Dani! I really thought there was something there.' My hands flew to my face as I realised how careless I had been.
'I'm so sorry, it's this migraine. Plus from experience I treat all little red dots that I see as guns.' I sighed, a little angry at myself. I had to get with the program. Here you can't just joke about snipers and guns. I looked down, my hands a little pathetically slumped on my lap. Jagan I noticed wasn't too happy either...well. He looked a bit confused. I smiled at the realisation that my perception skills were (just about) still in shape. Something with Bethany perhaps? Then again, we'd have plenty of time to find everything out on the plane. I groaned again at the thought of flying. Then again, we were SCIT. We weren't ones to care for ourselves.