Her jaw clenched, tension evident in every line of her posture. Her shoulders squared, rigid, as she gave a brief nod. His politeness pleased her; she found it reassuring somehow, befitting the professionalism he plainly put forth. It made it easier to think on these things, and perhaps easier to speak them. She prayed it would be so. Too long she had borne these things alone, afraid to put such pressure on her kin. Perhaps now she had found someone with shoulders enough to bear that weight, and knowledge enough to save her from this all consuming fear.
She slipped into the vacant seat across from him, shifting close to the chair's edge. This was not a conversation for elevated tones, she thought, nor indeed for anything that might attract undue attention. If there was some conspiracy about - and she had entertained such notions through many long and sleepless nights - she would not be the one to raise the first red flag. "Thank you for the invitation," she said. "It was a relief to see your post. I was starting to wonder if I was the only one not buying into management's excuses."
Her hands folded primly before her, resting lightly on the table. Her nails, close-clipped, their brightly buffed shine worn away in places, dug into the smooth skin of her hand. "Are you..." She sighed, exasperated by her own reticence, frustrated by her uncertainty of how to broach this delicate topic. "What makes you certain there's more to it?" she asked. It felt good to think she wasn't alone, that her visions and dreams had not been the only ones. She pressed on. "You said others have come forward?"