A few minutes before the clone arrived, the back office of Crimsonpeak Martial Hall had been running its own conversation.
Scarlet Ashcroft sat in the chair Tory usually reserved for important visitors, one leg crossed over the other, her crimson hair falling over one shoulder. She had the composed authority of someone who was accustomed to being the most capable person in whatever room she entered and had stopped finding that fact remarkable. Tier 5, Epic-tier support profession, guild president — she carried all three designations without needing to announce them.
Raina Quickstrike was not sitting. She had attempted sitting twice and abandoned it both times, currently perched on the edge of Tory's desk with her bandaged hands resting on her knees and her short hair still slightly damp from the rain outside. Tier 3 Striker class, lean and athletic in her tank top and combat shorts, radiating the specific energy of someone whose natural state was forward motion.
