On one of the rare, late-evening occasions she was in the Sarif Industries office and not flying or tweaking something with her bird, Faridah headed towards her office to make sure she wasn't missing out on any important e-mails, and to grab one of the energy bars she usually left out on her desk (which occasionally went missing and she was pretty sure she knew who to blame for that), when she stopped in her tracks.
There was a pile of paper airplanes accumulating at the base of her door. They were a variety of different shapes and sizes, all modified in different ways to maximize their aerodynamics. Some of them hadn't quite made it to the door and were scattered around the hall; some had nose-dived straight for it and lay in partially-accordion'd clusters.
Faridah approached her door with caution, stepping over any of the tiny planes in her path, an increasingly perplexed and vaguely irritated expression creasing her brows, drawing her lips into a slight frown. Toeing aside some of the pile gingerly, she punched in her door's keycode and swung it open; at that moment, another plane zipped straight past her cheek and skidded neatly to a halt on the carpeted floor in front of her.
She stared at it for long enough to confirm it was indeed real, turning her head once satisfied in an attempt to identify the source. There, poised on the balcony a floor up were the perpetrators she should have assumed were behind this; Adam, leaning with his mechanical arms folded across the bars, head half cocked towards Pritchard, who had adapted posture that made him look like a kitten trying to intimidate a doberman.
Faridah saw Jensen nod vaguely towards her, but couldn't read his expression from this distance, his dark lenses glinting. He lifted a finger to indicate her presence and said something to Pritchard; she watched as he deflated, slowly turning his head in her direction.
She smiled sweetly. It was on.
