Marigold & Open
The order had jarred Marigold at first. A site-wide roll call that didn't take the form of a lockdown and room-by-room search and sweep was not something that had occurred in her recent memory. In her not-so-recent memory, they had been initiated only after the most severe of circumstances or more successful escape attempts; usually to give the agents a collective injury to think twice about. She re-read the orders to reassure herself that the undercurrent of the tone, while sharpish, was one of concern.
Once in the halls she slipped easily into the flow-- and wondered why the congestion was not what it should have been, no matter how orderly they were shuffling along. It occurred to her that others might have felt the same hesitation she had and not been able to put aside their anxieties. She took to knocking on doors as she went along, bringing those who had slept through the alert up to speed and coaxing those who needed a soft reassurance and friendly smile to make their way beyond their threshold. It relieved her to see others along the way had a similar thought, going for doors both known and unknown to them in search of stragglers.
Marigold took a place just off-center from the middle of the crowd so she might be lost in it. Handlers spoke to their lead (Or at least most trusted or worry-prone agents), in hushed voices. Vance spoke, stiff and professional and scripted; gasps and whispers and swells of concern rose and fell on cue. When he departed the crowd turned inward on itself; the need to confirm the presence of friends and allies infinitely more urgent than before. Few would be looking for her, so she politely shimmered out of view to avoid blocking anyone's line of sight and shimmied out to the edges of the cluster where she again became visible. She breathed deep and let it go, but there was a tightness in her gut that remained.
Someone behind her wasn't going to find who they were looking for.