He rambled off some bullshit script she was sure he used every time he answered the phone or whatever. Had they sent her to a receptionist? Her lips curled as they were want to do.
When he finally got to asking her a question he seemed to be just trying to get rid of her - he had papers in his hand and seemed to want to shove them on her. She took a step back, nodding in answer to his question. "I'm not here for help or anything." Her hands slid into her pockets - she had a pack of smokes. Maybe she should just go outside, have a fag, and then go. She could at least say she'd come, right? That was something? Would that be enough to stave off the wolves?
She chuckled to herself at her own inner thoughts, no doubt looking to all the world like a crazy person. Unkempt hair, fingering something in her too-big hoodie pockets, laughing at thin air, making surly faces at harried staffers.
Yeah, this had been a terrible idea. She stepped back again and looked behind her toward the exit, wondering again if she should just leave.