(For Rebecca, from Ada @separatedway )
A middle-aged Asian woman with a slight curl to her hair, and the sleek black blazer and suit pant with a white collared shirt of a government worker departs from the conference room to meet with you.
"Wong, Ada," she introduces herself with an outstretched hand, "WHO Consultant. Pleasure to finally meet you, Professor."
These two weeks at Emory Campus and the CDC labs were becoming grueling. Between exhaustion from the BOW attack on the MARTA, continuously checking quarantine reports regarding The Clements Yacht, and the C virus samples obtained, Rebecca was drained.
She doesn't notice the woman at first, coffee in one hand and her phone in the other, checking recent emails. It's not until she hears her speak that her eyes lift, an instant recognition of the woman before her. clicking. An eyebrow lifts at the introduction, already knowing Ada Wong isn't with the WHO. Still, she pockets her phone before extending her own hand. "Rebecca Chambers, why don't we talk in private?"
