[b]Orange![/b]

Rescue. 

Too little, too late. But still... ever since she'd heard of Singh throwing Remoil's bags she'd been filled with the secret yearning that she might get something like that. Something she could see firsthand, let her internalize firsthand. It was better than she'd thought it could be, even though it was only a single drop of what she needed. It takes her a long moment to process what's happening, to finally stammer out the thank you.

It's impossible to articulate gratitude. She can't do it. She can only let the tension and weariness show as exaggerated as she can express it, still not enough to communicate how much she feels. 

She asks for Pope.

"I'm going to resign from the Anthrozine," she said after everything had settled. She shudders a bit to say it, but she holds her nerve. "Can I give my material to you instead?"

*

[b]Dudekov![/b]

There's a knock at the door.

"Thank God, took him long enough," said the Chase Black agent. There was some brief chatter from just outside earshot and in walked the psychologist, leaving the agents both outside. He was a creature of earth tones, warm and indistinct, fuzzy in beard and clothing, one lazy eye always drifting to the side. He knocked on the wall as he approached Dudekov's bed.

"Mr. Dudekov? I'm Naval Oldberg, a military psychologist on contract to Chase Black, NV2 security clearance. I understand that you've experienced -" he didn't look at the scar. "- quite the trauma. Do you mind if I run some tests to ascertain the extent of the damage?"