Thinking too fast, you're like marbles on glass. His disappearance from the meeting he'd just been made Emissary at didn't go unnoticed by Isabel. She wasn't the type to wait around for everyone to be comfortable with something to approach it. She was the type to rip a bandage off, even if it meant bloody gore.
It was Arthur's place to discipline the new Emissary. It was her place to make sure her peer (if she deigned call him that) was going to take his job seriously. She'd taken her jobs seriously from the moment they were cast upon her. She expected most everyone else to do the same, and when they didn't, she became angry.
A hard knock at the door, and Isabel stood, prim and proper as always, hair perfectly coiffed, nails manicured, her outfit likely the cost of a practical car. She tapped the ring she wore against the face of her watch, the only sign of impatience visible. Otherwise, she was a stone, carved in the form of a rather tall woman in rather too much heel.