During some of the rare down time when Hope wasn't burning holes into her computer monitor reviewing all of the evidence she'd been given on the Missing Hands case, she'd toyed with the idea of trying to contact the U.T.R.A. Satellite Office about any further debriefings on the Sanguine Hunt Joint Case she did with Mach. Each time she thought about it, her run in with the Hunter Wren and his cold edge with her sticking her nose where it was obviously not wanted killed her desire to touch her phone. Damn it though, it'd been weeks since she'd heard from Mach and the few friends he had that she'd run into all seemed edgy and unsure about what happened to him either. Damn, over confident, smooth operating . . . . ooooooooo! She wanted to scream a bit in her office, but each time she did such during her usual evidence reviews she had to reassure her staff someone wasn't trying to kill her. That and odd things would happen. Like papers blowing off of her desk or a file drawer slamming shut.
She leaned back into her leather chair trying to get Mach out of her head. She didn't need to think about him not with a mountain of work and even more issues to handle in the 27th, not to mention the quagmire and sludge she'd found herself in. Insomnia and self-doubt dogged her every day and night on her leadership, but a simple name like Mach and she's just smiling now. Testament to how an infectious jerk he was. Yet, now that she had a moment to really think with the cavalier hunter's call sign scratching her brain like poison ivy on a ticklish spot, she had to scratch that itch now and ask where the hell Mach had vanished to' Hope started digging around in the mounds of paper work on her desk, looking under towers of manila folders and even through her groaning Rol-A-Dex of business cards.
Hope finally found the card Mallen had given to her before she met up with Mach officially for the Sanguine Hunt training. The card was bent and a bit beat up having been used with several pamphlets on Zombie-Rights folded to level her desk a bit. She took care to look the card over better. It simply read:
~U.T.R.A.S.O.~ ~F.A.D.~ ~W.O. Hardings~ ~*23-0-12-918-875-3337-5999-2756-9191 XT. 235-56A~
Hope squinted at the card and the exceedingly long number. This brought back memories of trying to call her parents from a phone booth with a calling card back on Earth. One wrong number and it was "Back to Start You Go!". Hope dug out her cell phone and began the long sing-song beep boop of dialing up the number for talking to Hardings at U.T.R.A.S.O.
She leaned back into her leather chair trying to get Mach out of her head. She didn't need to think about him not with a mountain of work and even more issues to handle in the 27th, not to mention the quagmire and sludge she'd found herself in. Insomnia and self-doubt dogged her every day and night on her leadership, but a simple name like Mach and she's just smiling now. Testament to how an infectious jerk he was. Yet, now that she had a moment to really think with the cavalier hunter's call sign scratching her brain like poison ivy on a ticklish spot, she had to scratch that itch now and ask where the hell Mach had vanished to' Hope started digging around in the mounds of paper work on her desk, looking under towers of manila folders and even through her groaning Rol-A-Dex of business cards.
Hope finally found the card Mallen had given to her before she met up with Mach officially for the Sanguine Hunt training. The card was bent and a bit beat up having been used with several pamphlets on Zombie-Rights folded to level her desk a bit. She took care to look the card over better. It simply read:
~U.T.R.A.S.O.~ ~F.A.D.~ ~W.O. Hardings~ ~*23-0-12-918-875-3337-5999-2756-9191 XT. 235-56A~
Hope squinted at the card and the exceedingly long number. This brought back memories of trying to call her parents from a phone booth with a calling card back on Earth. One wrong number and it was "Back to Start You Go!". Hope dug out her cell phone and began the long sing-song beep boop of dialing up the number for talking to Hardings at U.T.R.A.S.O.