When Deb snapped, and not just out of anger or irritation, she went all out. Fate smiled on Fray, however, and Deb did not tackle her to the ground and train a gun at her brain. How could Deb have lost hours? It occurred to her that she might have been drugged, that this was someone's sick idea of a prank.
Someone was obviously fucking with her.
She left her desk. It wasn't going anywhere.
Deb saw the front doors that, according to the hair dye addict, led out onto the street. She walked purposefully toward the doors and if anyone got in her way they probably would get a gun trained on their face. Or at the very least punched.
"'The fuck is going on?" Deb shouted just loud enough to get a few looks, but those that spied her were wise enough to stay out of her way.