Ada dizzily sat down on the edge of her bed, unsure of whether or not she were hungover or exhausted. Perhaps, she mused, it was both. The night before was hazy after she had seen Claire, and she barely remembered Leon escorting her back to her apartment. He was not there now - he had to be at the police station, she imagined - but she didn't have to be on set and imagined he would be back later. She hoped so, at the very least. Either way, Ada was relieved to not be entirely alone. The business was isolating, and Wesker seemed to know it. She wondered if he wanted that of her, if he had more disturbing motives than she knew for putting so much emphasis on propelling her towards larger stardom. In and of itself, the thought worried her.

Sighing heavily, Ada laid down and closed her eyes. She began to tiredly probe her forehead, trying to think clearly. She told herself there was nothing to worry about and that she was being paranoid. Wesker had no reason to hurt her, she told herself, even if she was sure he had been involved in the deaths of others. Swallowing hard, Ada remembered how odd seeing Claire had been just ten some odd hours before. She knew Claire had quit her job, but she hadn't imagined she had become wealthy by any means. Of course, she supposed that Claire's family could very well have come into money, as she had claimed, but Ada still couldn't believe Claire had managed to get herself invited to the party.

It isn't as if just anyone gets let in there, Ada chewed at the inside of her cheek, her head throbbing. I thought it was only socialites and those associated with the upper echelons of the industry. Claire's only ever been a struggling make up artist, hasn't she?

Just considering the night tied her stomach up in knots. While seeing Claire had definitely been strange, what bothered her more was the way the night had ended. The party had gone on until the early morning, as was pretty common, but it had ended in an unusually quiet manner, not to mention how she hated how fuzzy her memories were. Finally forcing herself to stand up, Ada walked into the small kitchen and began to make herself a cup of coffee to ease her headache. Her silk robe hung limply against her slim figure, and her hair was in disarray. For once, she didn't care. It wasn't as if she was going out and would be seen out much that day - if at all - and she didn't want to be seen much either. Her mind was far too hazy to handle the pressures of the set, and she was relieved she didn't have any filming for a little while. At the very least, she didn't think she had the will to keep going.

"What the hell am I even doing?" Ada probed her forehead, trying to think. "God, how long has it been since I haven't been able to remember a night?"

Ada watched her hands shake while she poured the cold coffee into a mug. She could have sworn she was going to drop it, but she managed to hold it steady enough not to spill anything on the floor or (much worse, she imagined) on herself. Hearing a bit of creaking outside her door, Ada flinched only to realise it was only her neighbors. Feeling silly, she finished pouring her coffee, took a couple of sips, and then walked over to where she kept her weapons under the floor. Almost longingly, Ada weighed her gun in her hands, pulling out the magazine and replacing it with a full one. She didn't want a fight, but she was afraid of what would happen if she let her guard down for even a minute.

After all, plenty of women in this town have before, and look where it has gotten them.

"Dead, disgraced, disappeared," Ada recounted to herself, having heard only too many stories over the years since she had first entered the industry. "That's what happens when you let your guard down."

Swallowing hard, Ada grabbed her remaining magazines and dropped them into the small purse she kept by the door. She then set the purse and her gun down on the counter, quickly finished her coffee, tried to ignore the nausea that permeated her being and the throbbing of her skull, and grabbed a pair of thick tights and a warm dress. The rising star changed quickly, feeling a little better just in being more covered. Catching a glimpse of the thick silver shoulder plates she kept decoratively on her nightstand as a memento from her first successful film, Ada slipped them into her dress to cover her bra. The plating was strong and she was fairly certain that it would withstand at least a few bullets if she were to be shot at.

If you get shot at, at least you'll have your own weapons to fire back, Ada pulled her coat on quickly and grabbed her purse and weapon, which she tucked into the pocket of her furs as she slipped out of her apartment. It was eerily silent in the halls of her building, but she paid it no mind. I have to pay Claire Redfield a visit...if I can find her, at any rate.

"I was a little surprised my sister came into money," Chris remarked, grabbing a doughnut before Leon could with a smirk. "But I'm happy for her. I guess she finally got access to whatever money our parents left her in their will or something like that. Hell, maybe she's engaged to someone with a lot of money. Is she involved with Wesker by chance?"

Leon recoiled in disgust. "I doubt anyone is involved with him long term. He's a major director. What does he need with a wife when he can pay for any woman he wants to do anything he wants with whenever?"

"You have a point," Chris chuckled. "But, you know, having a wife isn't a bad thing. You have someone who understands you, who you understand and love. Sounds nicer than paying for whores, even if Wesker can pay for at least four floors of whores any day of the week."

"Sounds like you've thought about this too," Leon remarked, reaching for the last doughnut and trying to smack Chris' hand away before he could grab it too. However, much to the surprise of both men, a smaller hand grabbed it and took a bite with a smirk.

"Hmm, looks like you boys saved my favorite," Rebecca Chambers smirked at them both and then laughed. "Thanks for that."

"Well, well!" Chris exclaimed, clasping his hands together jovially. "One of the only women in the world to know anything about science graces us with her presence. How's the forensics lab looking? Any sexy corpses?"

Rebecca sent him a disdainful look. "Don't make it sound like my work is fun and games, Redfield," She warned him, stiffening. "I've had to break my back to get here, and I'm not taking that lightly."

"Helps your parents are wealthy as fuck," Chris shrugged. "But you've got brains...and with that short hair, you might as well be a man too."

Rebecca snorted. "Because that's exactly what I want. To be a man."

"Need anything?" Leon asked before Chris could say anything else that would set her off.

"Just bringing a report to Jill," Rebecca curtly told him. "Apparently we're receiving a body from the county coroner's office that was found oddly posed in an empty lot. I have to give her the report and discuss a few things with her before I can do a forensic examination of it which, I'll have you know, is much more detailed than just 're-doing an autopsy' if that's what you think I do."

Leon put his hands up in surrender. "I've never said anything about what you do. If you have beef with anyone, it's him."

"Do they know who the body belongs to?" Chris asked.

Rebecca shook her head. "No, although, interestingly, your sister was the one who found it."

Chris' jaw dropped in abject horror. "Is Claire alright?"

"Well, she's not dead," Rebecca said tartly. "Right now she's speaking with investigators. I'll tell them to let you see her after they're done. She's not being accused of anything, by the way, they just want to get a more detailed, first person account of the scene."

"Right, right," Chris said quickly. "Thank you for doing that, Rebecca."

"Don't thank me," She muttered, starting back towards Jill's office. "I'm not in any mood."

Leon chewed on the tip of his pen while Chris nervously finished the doughnut he had started on a few minutes before. Neither of them said anything for a few minutes and ignored the phones ringing, allowing some of the lower-level members of the force and the secretaries to take the calls. Finally, Leon spoke.

"Sounds like this town is gruesome."

"Gruesome doesn't even begin to describe it," Chris said darkly. "God, I really hope it's not another person associated with Paramount. Makes us look bad too, given how much money Wesker donates to the department."

"Sure does," Leon mildly agreed. "That man unnerves me."

"Me too," Chris admitted. "But he doesn't strike me as a killer...for whatever that may be worth."

"Yeah," Leon glanced around and then shook his head. "For whatever that's worth."