[ She glowers at him, but there's a slope to her shoulders to signify that she's not going to fight him on it - miracle of miracles that that is. ]

I should argue but I won't. Even my hair feels tired..

[ It's a rather undigified slump into the chair that follows, all the better to remove her boots, and she doesn't look up until he's almost beside her with the coffee, shaking left foot, then right, free of the trappings of her armor. She looks so much smaller without it.

She can't help but find herself admiring York, thinner though he is than she remembers but no less cut in the ways that count, and she ignores the mutual looks of distrust between AI partner and locksmith. ]

It's...a long story. Hunted him down after I decided I was going to kill the Director.

[ And isn't that said super matter of factly. ]