Clover as the two approached, but no one spoke. Instead, they obediently turned back to their work. They gathered their equipment with a familiarity that suggested they'd been doing it for a long time. Each of them moved efficiently, though not enthusiastically. At once, Clover noticed the black-haired girl walking with a distinct limp, her dark eyebrows drawn into a rigid line as she moved. There were any number of reasons for such an injury, and Clover hated that her mind was cataloging the possibilities.
"Has our on-site werewolf protocol been explained to you?" Connell seemed less harsh than Pierson, but his voice was decidedly not sympathetic either.
"No," Clover admitted.
"Of course the future Director wouldn't bother."
Clover had expected Elliot to have a reputation inside the Bureau, but she was surprised it was a poor one. Of course she thought people might be jealous of his position, but she wondered if this freckled agent knew that Elliot worked in a cramped cubicle just like everyone else.
"Alright," he continued, his tone more commanding now. "You will work efficiently and silently. You will not get in the way of Bureau workers and will stay within sight of your chaperone at all times. That would be me. We're designated Crew 47 and we'll be working region 2-5-9 today. You can shadow Jeannette." He motioned to one of the older women who had curly, straw colored hair. "And for God's sake, have him read you your pamphlet when you get home."
Connell called the crew to attention, then, and turned to lead them out of the room. It was a good thing he was facing the other way, because Clover could feel the annoyance on her face. Did they really think werewolves couldn’t read? Of course she could read. Hanging back so she walked just behind the woman called Jeannette, she followed.
As they wound their way back to the pristine hallways, away from the cement and pipes, Clover’s annoyance with her new keeper petered out, her focus moving to the black-haired girl. Her limp seemed worse than she'd guessed now that they were moving, and she used the cart full of cleaning supplies like it was a walker.
"What's your name?" Jeannette whispered, pausing in her step so Clover came up beside her.
Clover glanced at the others, noticing that they’d drifted to the very back of the group. "It's Clover."
"Don't worry about him." Jeannette smiled. "For the most part, he ignores us. He's not as strict as some of the others."
That was good news. It was also good news that she had the chance to talk to a senior worker. Clover's mind exploded with questions. If Jeannette had been here long enough, maybe she wouldn't even need Elliot to get her family back. Maybe this woman knew where prisoners were kept. Maybe she'd even met her family.
"That's a pretty name." Jeannette hummed. "Is it real?"
Clover hid her confusion poorly.
"Some owners rename us," she explained, seeming gentler now, as though she could tell Clover was new to the lifestyle. "My name used to be Carla, but my mistress runs a very posh household and decided a name like that didn't match the theme."
Clover tried to keep her mouth from falling open, but failed. They'd changed their new property the way someone would reupholster a couch to fit into their living room.
"Like we're objects..." Clover mumbled to herself, eliciting a sympathetic smile from the older woman.
"Just keep your head down and you'll be alright here," Jeannette said, touching her shoulder gently while Clover wondered if the softhearted woman had left children behind when she'd been picked up.
Keep your head down. Of course that's how people survived this lifestyle. It made every part of Clover's body revolt. She'd spent her whole life keeping her head down. She wanted to be like the pack that once lived on the west end of town. The pack that had become notorious for vandalizing Bureau property—for fighting back. She wanted to fight back, and somewhere
"Has our on-site werewolf protocol been explained to you?" Connell seemed less harsh than Pierson, but his voice was decidedly not sympathetic either.
"No," Clover admitted.
"Of course the future Director wouldn't bother."
Clover had expected Elliot to have a reputation inside the Bureau, but she was surprised it was a poor one. Of course she thought people might be jealous of his position, but she wondered if this freckled agent knew that Elliot worked in a cramped cubicle just like everyone else.
"Alright," he continued, his tone more commanding now. "You will work efficiently and silently. You will not get in the way of Bureau workers and will stay within sight of your chaperone at all times. That would be me. We're designated Crew 47 and we'll be working region 2-5-9 today. You can shadow Jeannette." He motioned to one of the older women who had curly, straw colored hair. "And for God's sake, have him read you your pamphlet when you get home."
Connell called the crew to attention, then, and turned to lead them out of the room. It was a good thing he was facing the other way, because Clover could feel the annoyance on her face. Did they really think werewolves couldn’t read? Of course she could read. Hanging back so she walked just behind the woman called Jeannette, she followed.
As they wound their way back to the pristine hallways, away from the cement and pipes, Clover’s annoyance with her new keeper petered out, her focus moving to the black-haired girl. Her limp seemed worse than she'd guessed now that they were moving, and she used the cart full of cleaning supplies like it was a walker.
"What's your name?" Jeannette whispered, pausing in her step so Clover came up beside her.
Clover glanced at the others, noticing that they’d drifted to the very back of the group. "It's Clover."
"Don't worry about him." Jeannette smiled. "For the most part, he ignores us. He's not as strict as some of the others."
That was good news. It was also good news that she had the chance to talk to a senior worker. Clover's mind exploded with questions. If Jeannette had been here long enough, maybe she wouldn't even need Elliot to get her family back. Maybe this woman knew where prisoners were kept. Maybe she'd even met her family.
"That's a pretty name." Jeannette hummed. "Is it real?"
Clover hid her confusion poorly.
"Some owners rename us," she explained, seeming gentler now, as though she could tell Clover was new to the lifestyle. "My name used to be Carla, but my mistress runs a very posh household and decided a name like that didn't match the theme."
Clover tried to keep her mouth from falling open, but failed. They'd changed their new property the way someone would reupholster a couch to fit into their living room.
"Like we're objects..." Clover mumbled to herself, eliciting a sympathetic smile from the older woman.
"Just keep your head down and you'll be alright here," Jeannette said, touching her shoulder gently while Clover wondered if the softhearted woman had left children behind when she'd been picked up.
Keep your head down. Of course that's how people survived this lifestyle. It made every part of Clover's body revolt. She'd spent her whole life keeping her head down. She wanted to be like the pack that once lived on the west end of town. The pack that had become notorious for vandalizing Bureau property—for fighting back. She wanted to fight back, and somewhere
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