Who: Thorne and Abbott What: Abbott. When: Very late evening. Where: Thorne's place of employment. Rating: PG. Status: Complete. Abbott had been getting herself into trouble lately. Normally she 'behaved', at least in the eyes of the Sanguine, but things had been tense, and her stalking slaves had finally gotten her ratted out. She'd had half a mind to resist being brought in for a reprimand, but perhaps it would be better, she thought, to appear contrite. To get her 'slap on the wrist' and be turned loose instead of having Strip security keeping a sharp eye out for her and breathng down her neck.
She couldn't do the Lord's Work with so many prying eyes on her, so it was with a glower that she conceded to being brought in. It wasn't the first time she'd been brought in, either, and she knew they thought her to be some kind of joke amongst the security team. Abbott was happy for them to think so. Let them think she was just a cartoonish embarassment, some bedraggled sewer rat who didn't fully understand their ways.
Her lofty thoughts hitched when she was sat down and told to wait for Thorne. Apparently, they kept track of all the times she'd been dragged in for this offense, and in light of the lycan attacks and the whispered power shift, they weren't taking any chances. Abbott didn't like this. Not one bit. Was she being tested? Was God displeased with her?
"Sir," one of Thorne's suboordinates poked his head into the office, a somewhat distasteful look on his face, "We've picked up that Cabalan that's been harassing slaves. She had some girl cornered at the bookstore and didn't even bother deny what she was doing," he tossed Thorne a thick file with one work, Abbott, written on it, "You said you wanted to handle these sorts of cases personally for a bit, so."
He was quiet a minute and then added, "She fucking stinks, boss."