Something collided with Sarah's forehead. Huh. Odd. She hadn't seen any insects in the garden yet. Maybe she'd just missed them. Oh well. Hardly worth opening her eyes over. Still half-asleep, she raised an arm to swat the insect.
Another flick. This was a very determined insect. She wondered if the Zoners bred them that way to stop loitering.
"Erg." Hardly the most elegant noise, but it was the closest thing to 'go away' the small section of her mind that was properly awake could manage. Finally, her ears got in on the action, reporting that if it were indeed an insect next to her, it was breathing rather heavily for something of that nature and it would probably be for the best if she were to check. Thoroughly annoyed by this point, she conceded, and a single eyelid flicked up.
"Hey. The liner bit me. Who do I call to have it sued?"
A solitary green eye watched Jeremy for a moment, before the eyelid lazily slid closed again.
"Complaints desk, level two. Just hit the airlock and keep on going. If you reach the geode, you've gone too far."
Sarah slung her legs back out to the ground from where she'd tucked them under her body, heaving herself to a sitting position, eyes closed all the while. Hands fumbled for her satchel for a moment, before retrieving it from where it had fallen next to he seat. An eyebrow sneaked up her forehead.
"You know, I'm a little surprised you turned up." Finally, her eyes clicked open, answering a questioning glance from Jeremy. "Baffin's not your usual style. Not enough things blowing up." An easy grin settled across her face. There were few people that smiled as frequently as Sarah McFarlen.
Jeremy was wearing the same design of jeans he had last time they'd met. At least, Sarah hoped they were the same design. The same pair would be worrying. Cleanliness wasn't exactly her forte, but at least she changed. Perhaps the jeans were the Order's equivalent of a uniform. It would certainly explain all the clothing stores on Manhattan, and validate a half dozen conspiracy theories at the same time. She opened her mouth to comment on it, only to be cut off by the crackling of speakers.
"Mister Hunter, Mister Dirk, Pope Sturgeon, Miss deSonne and Miss McFarlen
Please make your way to the Zerach Garden Conference Room.
Fellow Templars will escort you here"
As if on-cue, a pair of robed individuals stepped into view, navigating the vast garden as easily as their own backyard. With a start, Sarah realised that it probably was. They hung back at a fork in the path, evidently waiting for Jeremy and Sarah to come to them. They were nothing if not polite.
"Someone's quick with names." She observed to Jeremy, sliding to her feet. Years of working in the camped engines of large ships had leant her an odd sort of grace, and there was no discernible point where she stopped sitting and started standing. She simply was.
The figures still stood at the fork, waiting. Strange calls from complete strangers were rarely good news. They were; however, always interesting. Sarah shrugged, slinging her satchel over her shoulder and turned to glance at Jeremy.
