Sara sat on top of her desk, twirling her favourite screwdriver, Rufus, between her fingers. She rarely actually sat at her desk on the chair provided. There wasn’t any real reason; it just didn’t feel right to her up in the office so she avoided acting like she belonged there. She only had a desk because she’d whined about having nowhere to sit when she came up to visit her team-mates. Where she really belonged was down in the basement with all her beautiful shiny tools, cars, motorbikes, helicopters and even the odd armoured vehicle. She’d only emerged today to collect her pay check.

‘Nothing more fun than being burned to a crisp on the beach,’ she piped up as Kundiman bragged about having the weekend off and then poked her tongue at the other woman when she threatened to return without a present. Sara couldn’t help but giggle at the look on Kundiman’s face when Marcus told her they had a new mission.

‘Oh, Kundiman, you don’t hate it here,’ she reassured the linguist as she took her copy of the folder. ‘You only think you do.’ She used her screwdriver to flick through the file, her nose slowly crinkling and her free hand gradually hugging her stomach tighter as she read on. ‘Gross!’ she exclaimed when she finished reading and pushed the file across the desk and away from her as if it bore some kind of horrible disease. ‘That poor woman.’ Suddenly a thought struck her.

‘Hey, St. Anthony’s is across town isn’t it? Can we take the helicopter?’ she asked, fully aware that it would be just as fast to take the van, and probably more fuel efficient. ‘You guys never let me take Bungie out to play.’

{OOC – Bungie’s the chopper, by the way.}

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