[Pierce has always had a rather disconcerting habit of neglecting his charges. What would he do, without Ophelia to come in behind? Even if by chance, at least she’s got the opportunity to check in. It won’t do to have the poor woman crack – at least not yet.
Not that she worries about the constitution of the woman beside her. If they had been, well — ]
Do you mind if I ask what it is you’re drinking?
[ Even as she drags her eyes away from the woman to her right she can feel the heaviness of the stranger’s gaze. The briefest shift confirms the suspicion with a check in her peripheral. Was it too much to ask for an hour away from her desk, her phone? Every time her phone thrums in her pocket she imagines it’s yet another notification that they’ve lost an agent in the field, that somehow things continue to get worse than they already are– ]
[ There’s an edge to her answer as if she doesn’t expect the woman to actually care for it either way, and Maria accompanies it with a shrug, lifting the glass to her lips. ]
Maker’s Mark, if you want to get specific. Whiskey’s one of the only things they do well here, but don’t tell the guy behind the bar I said so.