Up until then, Abbie had been talking to herself. Actually, she'd been talking to the copy machine - she usually talked to her projects - but to a normal person-shaped bystander it would probably look more like she was talking to herself. "Get in there! That's where you go! Submit! Submit! Submit! YEAH! Bitch. Showed you who the boss is. Me. Bow before your master, queen of the copie-- er?" Abbie looked up and blinked. Interpretive dance. What's it look like I'm doing? "That FBI dude asked me to fix the copy machine."