A Meeting of Minds, Part II
"We do?" Brian asks. "How's that work? You got someone on the Alliance payroll feeding you answers?" At Wren's unexpected comments, Brian glances in her direction, eyebrow arched just slightly. "You'd think I'd notice a ship sticking to my foot," he replies with a grin."
Rachel blinks, and fixes Gabriella with a careful look. "It's not very nice to lie to the captain, Gabby." She frowns, as if trying to think. "He's a nice man even if he's terrifying a little bit when he's flying."
"Something like that." Gabriella says towards Brian, with a shrug, also giving a side look towards Wren at his comment, a slight frown and a brow furrow emerging at Rachel's comment. "While we are willing to share the details of what we learn, we are not necessarily willing to give you all our sources in the process." She says, with a shrug.
"Sources tend to hold the most pieces to the puzzle. To know what sources are providing information, connections can be made." The voice of Anastasiya continues to remain distant, mocking that of her gaze as she stares down at the spot on the ground. "That is.. If one wishes others help with a situation, all the cards must be placed down on the table from every party."
"You'd think, but then everyone laughs at you when you come out of the stall, and point-- and that's when you'll see it," Wren replies with a shrug of her shoulders, glancing then to Rachel. "Sometimes it's nicer to lie, pretty lies are kinder than truth," she determines. A regular chatterbox is Wren this evening.
Brian considers both Gabby's and Ana's replies before weighing in with his own opinion. "Keep your secrets," he says perhaps a bit gruffly. "Solve your mystery. If we can help we will, but our aid is limited by what we know." He shrugs a bit, dismissing it as a non-issue.
"I mean no offense, but I think it is fairly obvious by what information we have given so far, that not all of this information was obtained legally, and we are not willing to risk our sources being bound by law. And that is not meant as a personal affront, it is simply a matter of the more people know about something, the more chances that someone says something in front of or to the wrong person." Gabriella says amicably, her uninjured shoulder rising and falling loosely.
"You're hiding," says Rachel, folding her arms. "I can always tell when someone's hiding. Nobody listens, but I know." She bites her index finger and stares fixedly at the ground in front of her. "We just want to help. No secrets. No lies. Not strung along like--like dolls. Because we're not." She looks up and makes eye contact for all of two seconds before looking away again. "We could find out anyway. We're good at it. We'll be nice if you're nice, but we can be mean, too. Roxie's the best there is."
"I have more info, if you would like me to continue?" Gabriella says to the room at large, though her gaze is focused more in Brian's direction.
Brian observes Rachel as she speaks, but maintains a neutral expression. When she is finished, his attention slides back over to Gabriella, and his head dips once, a nod to proceed.
Gabriella turns her gaze back to the pda, continuing to summarize. "The questions raised at the last meeting of the ships were as follows. 1: Who is Mihailov 2: What were the contents of the shredded letter in Wellington's quarters from Mihailov 3: What was the bill from BGY Power for 4: Relationship between Deborah and Wellington 5: Why was the ship stopped 6: Why was Deborah piloting the ship 7:What was the distress call about and last but not least 8: Where is Havermathy."
"The answers are as follows 1: A noble who is also in the food industry, known associates of Wellington. While Wellington focuses more an alcoholic beverages, Mihailov focused more on consumables, he owns several ranches and farms. They have been seen together socially on many occasions, at the same charitable functions, shaking hands and laughing. 2: It has proven impossible to piece together the shredded letter to gain any idea of what was inside, it was apparently shredded several times over. 3: As I said earlier, setting up the social services on Bernadette. 4: They were 'special' friend, aka, she was his mistress 5: As best as we can gather, the ship was shut down per its' typical shut down hours 6: She was co-pilot. For seven and eight... we have no bloody idea." She says, glancing back up to the room to see if anyone has anything to say before continuing.
Wren finally subsides into silence, eyes becoming glassy as the voices swirl in the air over her head. Breathing out in a long sigh, she leans back against the couch's cushions, resting her head.
"Tell me what you're hiding," says Rachel, evidently starting to get frustrated--enough that she's actually looking at Gabriella without flinching away every few seconds. Her eyes have a certain intensity to them but it is difficult to imagine her as intimidating in any real sense of the word. "I'm tired of nobody noticing me."
A slow blink casts itself across the ice blue eyes at the question of Mihailov. Anastasiya's gaze lifts upwards, glancing side long towards Brian with a questioning look. A simple roll of her shoulders forming a brief shrug as she turns her gaze back to the ground. "What is first name of Mr. Mihailov?"
Opening her eyes slowly, Wren briefly focuses in on Rachel, meeting her eyes for that one fleeting moment. "I notice you," she states clearly.
Brian listens quietly to the further information, mentally ticking off questions and answers, and finally nods. "More answers than before, but the most important questions remain a mystery." As Rachel speaks up, Brian's attention is drawn to her. At first it looks as if he might intervene, but.. he does nothing, content to watch how this plays out. Though he does not voice it as Wren does, like her, he has definitely noticed Rachel.
"Demetri." Gabriella says to Anastasiya, giving the woman a questioning look. "Why, does he ring a bell?" She questions, giving Rachel a carefully neutral look. "I'm sorry, but once again, I have not been authorized to release that information. If your captain wishes to ask Captain Grey for that information, that is his discretion." She says evenly.
The corners of Anastasiya's lips curl downwards in a faint frown as the name is delivered onto her. It would seem that she is not paying attention to most of the conversation fluttering around her, while in truth she is, only some gaining reaction from her as she is for the most part lost within the deep recesses of her mind. "We share last name. Uncommon last name..", she says in a tone barely above that of a whisper.
Gabriella frowns at Anastasiya's reply, her brows furrowing for a moment. "......................................................." Gabriella questions, sounding slightly concerned. "........................................................................."
A few long moments pass until the shades of pink spark to life. Anastasiya's voice remaining distant, a mere tone above a whisper as she keeps her eyes fixated on the ground. "..................................................................." A small smirk unravels from her as she shifts a bit upon the couch. "..........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................."
"That's not good enough," shouts Rachel. If there were a table nearby she would probably have slammed a fist on the table. As it is, one can't help but feel that a cinematic moment was missed. "You don't follow rules. I know you don't. I've seen you break rules--to help me out, even. So don't hide behind authorizations and rules and what you're allowed to do and do what you should do. You can't pawn us off onto the next chump and hope he'll say no." Her eye twitches, and she sinks back into the chair. "Please? I think this is important."
"........................................................" Gabriella says, then frowns, realizing how that might come across. "...................................................................................................................................................................." <Russian>
Wren jerks at the eruption of sound coming from Rachel, scooting back again against the couch as if burnt. Eyes wide, she stares at Rachel as if waiting for a snake to strike.
"Secrets, secrets," Brian murmurs almost chidingly as the words in an unfamiliar language flow past him. He turns, a rather surprised look on his face, to Rachel as she begins shouting. "It would seem," he says a bit louder than his previous murmur - approaching conversational volume even, "that Rachel has taken a particular secret personally." His eyes cut back to Gabriella as the woman speaks again in a foreign language, adding, "Do what you like, but I would appreciate it if you would stop ignoring her and address her concerns."
The bottom lip is taken captive, chewing on it vigorously. The only response that Anastasiya gives to Gabriella is that of a nod of her head. Ice blue eyes dance across a small invisible line on the ground, barely noticeable unless someone watches her eyes carefully. The outburst from Rachel draws her to sink further against the back of the couch. Lithe fingers coiling inwards then out on her arms in a kneading manner. Where once the thoughts raced a thousand miles per minute within the deep recesses of her mind, they now have increased their speed by quite a bit.
"I'm not entirely sure what it is that she thinks I'm lying about or hiding, but as I said, if I have deceived you about anything, it is only for the protection of those who have helped us. I'm sorry if that has offended you, Ms. Rachel, I can assure you that was not my intention. While you may have seen me break the rules, as you said, it was for your benefit. Just like with the people helping out on this investigation, it is for the benefit of this mystery, and I wouldn't want to get them in trouble, any more than you wanted me to get in trouble." Gabriella says evenly to Rachel, though her jaw is tighter than it has been, and her eyes darkening slightly. "And I have not been ignoring her, I have spoken directly to her on four occasions in the last hour." She says, glancing from Rachel to Brian with her last statement. "We have been most forth coming with data which we have spent untold hours and resources on in the last few weeks, I do not think it is too much to ask to keep a few confidentialities that really have no relevance on the matter as a whole."
"There is still more information to be shared, not only which concerns the ship and the deaths of those on the ship, but may also have some relevance to your wife," She says this last part directly to Brian. "I would like to finish sharing that so that I can get feedback on everything all told." Her voice is level, but slightly on the cool side.
"Listen," Brian says, sitting up and pulling his feet down from the table. "I appreciate that you've kept us in the loop, and I get that you want to protect your sources. I'm not even taking offense that you don't trust us with that information. But this has become a lot bigger in scope and in risk than it was before. Alliance guards? Rivalries among the rich and famous that could crush us mere mortals? Nuclear fucking bombs?" He shakes his head. "My job title says captain, that means I have a ship to look after, and a crew's safety to consider, and even the tiniest little bit of information can have a major impact in my success or failure in that endeavor." He sighs a little and relaxes, his tone becoming a bit more rant-like than perhaps he would have preferred. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell. Just know that I have some pretty important things on the line here too."
He settles back on the couch and looks as if he's about to give the go-ahead to proceed when something unexpected hits him. "My.. wuh-what?" The look on his face reveals that he is totally dumbfounded by 'the w-word'
"You're a coward," says Rachel now, her voice suddenly calm, as though she is making a simple declaration. "You're afraid to let us help you, afraid to trust anyone, afraid to help anyone out. You're hiding and that's not how we can help you and you know it." Her eye twitches. "And if we do find out who those sources are without your help, I'll have to do what all good little girls from Londinium do and tell the feds about them."
Waiting for the snake to strike. And strike it does, though from an unexpected corner. Wren twitches violently in reaction to Brian, swinging around to look at the Tienlong's Captain with an unfocused gaze, oblivious to Rachel and Gabby. "No. More. Bombs!" she yells at him, flinching even as she says the word herself. "Please," she adds, the final word more a pleading to the room in general than directed at Brian himself.
The hand closest to Brian, the right, stretches out towards him. The tips of her fingers first being placed down onto her leg until the rest of the hand comes to follow. Almost absently does it begin to slightly caress the leg, a mere few inches in its patterned caress as if in attempt to calm the man. Nostrils flare lightly, exhaling a silent snort as gaze for the first time lifts towards Rachel. "You w-" Her words come to a sudden pause as she looks over towards Brian. The slender eyebrows narrowing for a split second. "Peace," she says in a flat tone. Then the outburst from Wren draws her attention over to her for a few moments. The strewns of muscles surrounding her mandible tense, gritting her teeth together as she lowers her gaze back to the ground, attempting to lose herself for the most part back to the thoughts.
Gabriella's eyes turn towards Rachel at her outburst, eyes narrowing and going cold, her jaw tight, though her face was almost painfully blank. "If I was afraid to help anyone out, I wouldn't be here." She says flatly, about to say more when first, Wren's shrieks and then Ana's words cut through, and she drops silent again, through a near force of will. "Wren, enough." She says, her tone forcefully controlled, as she glances to Brian. "I can understand your concerns. And, I can assure you that there is nothing that is being kept from you that would endanger your crew in any way." Gabriella says, with a small shrug. "I'm sorry that this has become such a problem, but I must also state that I do not appreciate my concerns being thrown back into my face. Especially, since the exact thing your crew has threatened our sources with is the concern I had in the first place. Now, would you care for me to finish my report?" Gabriella asks evenly.
Though it's unclear as to which of Wren and Rachel is the root cause of Brian's words, as he glances between them he seems to have been 'shocked' back into his usual, mellow self as he says, "Be cool, little sister." Attention settling on Gabriella he shrugs. "All I'm saying is your sources might be their sources too, and if this turns out to be as big a deal as certain aspects of it lead me to believe it is, I don't want to wake up one morning to find out that our names have been given to scary men." Eyes sliding to Rachel he says lightly, "Let it go, we're not going to badger her into giving out information she doesn't want to give." And once more to Gabriella, "Please, continue. It's getting late and I'm sure we all could use some rest."
"......................" Rachel's eyes narrow at Gabriella, but she gives Brian a nod. 'The crazy girl is shutting up now,' she says in a vacant voice. 'She was only getting in the way. She'll be quiet--as a doll. She'll leave Gabby alone so she doesn't have to reveal any precious secrets and everyone gets what they want.' <French>
"Enough. Enough, enough, enough," Wren repeats the word until it becomes a meaningless collection of sounds, drawing into herself as she does. "Cool," she echoes Brian, pulling herself back into the room with an effort. "Water lapping at my toes," she murmurs, glancing down at her booted feet as Rachel speaks. "I want to go home."
"I guarantee you you won't. I would trust these sources with my life, and have, many times previously." Gabriella says to Brian, standing and moving towards the cooler once again grabbing a beer, assuming no one stops her, this time snapping the top off on the edge of the counter, and tossing the cap, a slight rattle can be seen as she pulls an orange plastic pill bottle from her hoodie. "Wren, if you want to go, you can." Gabriella says, glancing back over her shoulder to the girl. "I won't keep you here." She says with a brief smile before swallowing a pill from it before she turns back and drops down onto the couch, being careful to keep her heavily bandaged shoulder from hitting the couch.
"You may or may not have noticed the report put up on the cortex a few days ago about the three girls that were taken from Boros during the 'earthquake' otherwise known as an explosion. Mitzy DeCrois, Leean Savage, and Ali Cochran. Ages 12, 9 and 10. During the conversation with the reporter, we learned that there had been several other kidnappings across the verse." She glances up, looking from Brian to Anastasiya, and finally to Rachel before back to Brian. "I know this seems off topic, but bear with." She comments.
"Calliope Keega, nine years old, kidnapped from Hera. Sage Sayyida, nine years old, kidnapped from Bernadette. Chiyoko Jarka, ten years old, kidnapped from Boros. Linsey Augustus, ten years old, kidnapped from Boros. Fidda Tussen, eleven years old, kidnapped from Ariel. Alexandrine Constantinople, eleven years old, kidnapped from Bernadette. Kylee France, twelve years old, kidnapped from Hera. Rava Niloofar, twelve years old, kidnapped from Boros." There is a slight pause from the recitation which she makes from memory, staring at a random spot on the wall, and she glances back to the people in the room. "Katrina Wellington, age <can't remember off the top of my head, but between 9 and 12>. Kidnapped from the Lady Antoinette."
"All girls?" Brian asks as the list of names is finished. "All ages 9 to 12. All from Bernadette, Hera and Boros, whose only apparent involvement is that we parked the ship there. And Ariel, with no apparent connection. And.. a daughter? On the ship? We had no information about a kid on the boat. How'd you find out about her? And what other connections exist between these children?"
"That's not right," Rachel says. "None of it's right. Killings and bo--and nukes," she glances at Wren, "and guards and lies and feds and--" She glares at Gabriella again but very pointedly does not say anything to her. "They shouldn't do that to kids."
A fine shudder passes through Wren as Gabriella begins her recitation. "I have to go," She declares, standing abruptly. Indeed, her complexion has become rather chalky, with a faint green tinge. "Right now-- where's the bath-" her voice chokes off as she clamps a hand over her mouth. As soon as there's an indication of direction, she's off like a shot.
"There was a log on the entertainment center on the bridge from Wellington, to be delivered to his wife, "Hi honey, we're having a great time," the details of which indicated that his daughter Katrina was on the ship when they left Hera." Gabriella says, nodding to answer his original question. "The connections to this date are all of their families are connected to the food and consumables trade, their age gap, and, most unusual of all, is the fact that each of their father's have no person listed as the father on their birth certificate. One of our... " slight pause, and sideways half glance sent Rachel's way briefly, "sources is trying to gain access to their genetic profiles to determine if they share any of the same genetic coding to indicate that they may all have the same grandfather."
Gabriella glances towards Wren as she starts to change hue, saying nothing to or about the girl's reaction, turning her attention towards Rachel, still keeping quiet, leaning back gingerly as she waits for the next round of twenty questions. This was one game she was almost always good at.
At the mention of 'bath--', and the urgency with which it's asked, Brian raises a hand and points toward the port hatch and hollers after her, "Door at the end of the hall." Hoping for the best - at least his quarters aren't off that corridor - he returns his attention to Gabriella. "Ah," he says as she spells it out. "So the daughter was the target, not the noble. Everyone else was collateral damage. The pilot doesn't exist, it's all incidental crap. Someone hit that boat hard for the kid. Curious, though, that Mihailov would be walking around with 'daddy's robe with his daughter on board." He pauses to consider additional details, and nods. "Good call on the genetics."
Rachel merely narrows her eyes as Gabriella glances in her direction, her eye twitching faintly. "It's all wrong," she repeats, with a pointed look at Gabriella. "I wonder if we can find someone to find out more."
"Just because the girl was on the ship doesn't mean she knows anything that's going on behind closed doors, and you don't have to have been doing anything inappropriate to be wearing someone else's robe." Gabriella points out to Brian, glancing back to Rachel then to the room at large. "If you have additional questions, compile a list and we'll see what we can do."
The once silent tongue upon most of the matter unravels from within its bed of darkness, weaving her own thoughts upon almost the entire matter all at once. "Deborah was trained to become Co-Pilot as means of keeping her closer to Mr. Wellington. Easier is it to continue affair without constant presence of the wife. Therefore, by making her co-pilot, it would mean that she was to be along with Mr. Wellington on his trips." A brief pause is taken as she continues to watch the spot on the ground. "Mr. Havermathy could have been cover up for financial support made to Deborah, or to provide cover for gifts given to her. Easiest means to cover tracks of an affair through financial means, encase the wife kept track of the financial records." The tip of her tongue clicks across the roof of her mouth a few times, halting to continue to speak. "Suggestion would be to attempt to find the financial records of each member of the crew. Check bank accounts for transactions. Do not go by means of asking for the information, instead use a hacker to find out for yourself. Even attempt to go as far as attempting to check the financial records of Alliance Officer Major Angelina Rockzir."
"Deborah kept a personal journal. The reason behind this is because of the doodles that she made within the communications book. Someone that would do doodles, would also be writing down their daily events. It would of been kept under her pillow or mattress, somewhere obvious to find yet not visible. Someone such as Mr. Wellington would not have been caught without a PDA."
"If this was set up to look as accident, the party involved would most probably not take risk to have one of the crew members disappear with if they were involved in set up. Yet.. If pilot never existed and blame was wished to be set down, it is perfect cover up. Place blame and heat on non-existent pilot to cover tracks."
Lifting her gaze from the ground, it settles onto Gabriella as she says, "Look further into Knuckles O'Malley. Money tends to over come loyalty. Pay a crew member to do the job, then get rid of him once they are done with him. Means further investigation would not be looked into the dead party from their eyes."
Once more does she turn her gaze back to the ground, remaining silent for a moment or two, then continuing on her extremely long spiel. "Perfect carrier for nuclear bomb. No one would suspect it on the ship of a well known Noble that has heart of gold. Intercept package in middle of black. Make look like accident. Too risky to attempt to remove bomb while on ground. Whomever did this knew the routine of the Antoinette. Shut of times."
Anastasiya's next words come to be placed down very carefully, as if almost hesitant to say them. "Even to the face of the public, each individual or faction always has other motives. Dark secrets that wish to be locked away. Including the Alliance. It sounds as if they are seeing too much of public investigating into this matter that they believe they should be.. The Alliance know more than they lead on to. They have ears and eyes everywhere." Two beats pass of silence. "Has anyone confirmed the identification of the Alliance members that removed bodies?"
"When loved one dies you either attach yourself to everything reminds of loved one or you rid of it. I do not see the Widow keeping possession of ship. Instead auctioning it or donating it. Brings bad emotion up to be in same area that loved one dies. Too hard for most to do.", she says with a small roll of her shoulders. "Keep look out on market. Alliance will most probably take possession of ship. May not be obvious but have someone bid highest if goes to auction."
"If letter is still in possession.. Nothing is impossible. I would like to try to piece it together.." She almost seems about to say something more within the sentence, or on that topic in general, though cuts short to move onto the next thing.
Anastasiya lifts her left hand from its placement on her lap.. Beneath her breath, incoherent muttering is formed as she raises a single finger at a time in a 'counting' fashion. A single word rings true and clear from the muttering, "Pattern.." The hand settled on Brian's leg uncoils its grip from around it, tapping a few times depicting one doing math in their head. Her lips moving yet no words come to bare for a couple long moments. "Too coincidental.. Same grandfather.. Twins.. Triplets.. Coincidence.. Too coincidental." She shakes her head lightly sending a few whisps of red hue hair to caress the sides of her face.
Wren takes flight, dashing in the direction Brian indicates, portside. There is a suspiciously short amount of time before the sound of someone retching can be heard interspersed with Anastasiya's words. And it continues for almost as long.
Rachel stares into the distance as Anastasiya talks, her eyes unfocused. It's hard to tell if she's paying attention, or daydreaming. If it's daydreams, it is not, apparently, of anything that makes her feel any better. By about a quarter of the way through she is chewing on her index finger nervously and occasionally muttering to herself.
"If Mr. Havermathy was just a cover, there would have been at least some attempt made to make a false identity... And if Wellington had a desire to hide away money, the man was a billionaire, and we were told his financial records were sealed tighter than a steel drum in an abandoned submarine, which means he had several accountants, and a very good hacker on his payroll. I doubt such a blatant oversight would have been made if financial recompense was his goal." Gabriella says, after staring at Ana for a long moment of shock at the spiel that escapes the woman's lips. "We will see if anything can be found on the ship as far as the journal goes, it may have provide a few good tips, if there is one, though we did look it over pretty well before we left Boros. As for the Alliance officers, we were told the footage was far too low quality to make out specific faces or nametags of any kind. We'll keep an ear out should the ship go for sale, she wasn't a bad bird all told." She comments, pausing to replay the speech and see if she had missed anything. "I'll be happy to bring you the pieces, but I don't think you'll be able to find much." She adds.
"I agree, about the girls... I still have people trying to find out as many details as possible, to see where the correlation lies, but until we find out why they were taken we have little chance of finding out who is behind this."
"It would be a ghost ship." Rachel smiles strangely. Her voice adopts that indefinable air of someone who is quoting something. "There is a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies--which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world--what I want to forget." She pauses. "Joseph Conrad." She does not, of course, offer any explanation for her brief lesson in literature.
"It makes me miserable and sick, like biting something rotten would do." Gabriella responds automatically to Rachel's comment, without thinking... after which, she pauses, and blinks, and gives the room a sheepish grin, and takes a swig of her beer.
Wow, Brian seems stunned at both the length and detail in Ana's speech. He listens closely, nodding at points, and when she finishes, he shrugs a little and glances between her and Gabriella. "The pilot is a red herring. Either a sloppy cover-job and irrelevant or an intentional plant to misdirect. He was not on the boat - I think he was never on the boat, and is irrelevant to the main event. I maintain that the girl was the target. The link between them - the 'missing' grandfather is key. This Mihailov, perhaps? He's the man with the plan." Realizing after the fact that he's offered no evidence or other indication as to why he's chosen to believe what he does about it, he adds as a half-formed afterthought, "Gut feeling. Maybe I do watch too many old vids."
Eventually the sound of running water can be heard rushing through the pipes, running for several minutes before it is shut off. There's a significant pause after that before Wren reappears, her skin no longer green tinged, but still chalky and slightly damp. "I have to go now," she repeats a little shakily, crossing the commons quickly in an attempt to escape the ship without further incident.
"Mr. Wellington would not have hired someone without a background check. He would of discovered the lack of information behind the Pilot. He knew, if the man even truly existed, that he was false." A corner of her lips curls upwards, forming a half-grin as she says softly.. "The ones that attempt to make good name to the face of public the most, have the most dark secrets to hide. Not even in the earth-that-was was there a man that did not have a thing to hide." The half-grin drops as she shakes her head lightly. "Almost appears Mr. Wellington had something dark to hide. Another life that perhaps connects with Mr. Mihailov that dabbles within things frowned upon to place so much attention onto good will." Anastasiya takes a pause, inhaling a deep breath that fills the capacity of her lunges before slowly releasing it. "If you did not find journal by now, you will not find it. Think back when barely a teenager.. If you were in puppy love.. You would not think to place journal too well hidden. It is gone, guarantee it. Taken. PDA.. Taken." Her lips purse inwards tightly as she listens to Rachel, releasing them to form a smirk. "Ship will disappear." A side-long glance is given towards Brian, settling on him as she continues, "Place most obvious fault down on the table to distract truth." A brief grin surfaces across her lips, dropping after a moment of life. "Always the Russian master mind behind the dirty deed.." Anastasiya dips her head in a light nod to Wren's comment without looking towards the girl, blocking out the noises from moments ago during her speech.
Rachel nods. "You'd be right at home on it," she says, in apparent response to Gabriella. She turns to look at Brian. "People think in bad stories. They really do. They think, 'nobody will think he's a red herring because he's too obvious of a red herring.' That's what they do. That's what happens. You can't use that because everyone thinks of that and maybe that's what they were thinking. You can't piece lies together because the clues don't add up, because it's too easy to add a clue. It's--it's all like a bad movie. Maybe they just want you to think like bad movies so you can't see the truth."
"Again, we won't know til we get footage from Hera." Gabriella says to Brian in regards to the pilot. "I also believe the girl was the target. And no, Mihailov is not old enough to be a biological donor to grandchildren of those ages. We are looking more into him however. " Gabriella glances towards Wren, looking slightly concerned. "Will you be all right?" Gabriella calls after the retreating form of the girl. "We are also looking further into the history of Wellington, though so far all we have turned up is good will and phillanthropic deeds. Though I've thought he was far too shiny for any intents and purposes, we haven't anything yet to prove it." She actually gives Rachel an amused look at her initial comment, listening to the woman's suggestions with a small 'hmm' of thought following them.
Brian glances after Wren as she heads toward the exit, but decides it's not his place to look after her. Rachel's comment about movies distracts him anyway. "Yeah, I s'pose that's a good point," he says as if everything she said made perfect sense. "But we'll never know til we find out in the end, so I'll go with my gut." To Gabriella, "Digging into Wellington's past is going to take a proper excavation team. No way a man like that sets himself up as a peachy-keen do-gooder without making absolutely sure his dirty deeds aren't easily accessible. Mihailov.. who knows. He might be working for the missing grandfather.." another shrug. "What about the b--" He almost said it. The 'B' word. But he caught himself, and stumbling over it he corrects it last-minute into, "Nuke? That's no small-time party trick. Need to put a tail on it leading from somewhere, though I've no idea where to begin on that one."
Wren concentrates on walking just as fast as she can without actually breaking into a run, most of the words in the room flowing over her without comment. "No, never, no one is-- I'm no one, so it doesn't matter," she calls back to Gabby, steps never faltering in her quest to find The Exit. In moments she's out of view, leaving the good doctor with an unfortunate sample of additional biological matter from what he's already been given this evening. At least it's not actually in his bed. Just, right behind the door.
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