Kate doesn't know how to reply. Her attention has been caught, snared, by Miss Gibson - Detective Superintendent Gibson - and her eyes dart from one police officer to the other. She's silent for a long moment, too many words trying to pour out of her and instead they are caught, twisting and strangling in her throat. The more Miss Gibson talks, the quieter her voice gets until Kate has to remain silent to hear her, the more the words build and build.
They don't burst out. She doesn't shatter. There's no scream of rage or fear or frustration or frustrated hatred, nothing.
Instead, Kate swallows.
She has Benedict at her back and he isn't silencing her for her own good or anything, and she's more grateful for that then she can possibly convey. She has Miss Gibson and Mr Graves in front of her, to the side and she... and she...
She crosses her arms, properly and firmly, defensively against her chest.
"I know what happens when you people clean up mistakes and accidents," is what she says. She intends to spit it out, all furious anger. Instead, even to her own ears her voice sounds flat. Flat and small.
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They don't burst out. She doesn't shatter. There's no scream of rage or fear or frustration or frustrated hatred, nothing.
Instead, Kate swallows.
She has Benedict at her back and he isn't silencing her for her own good or anything, and she's more grateful for that then she can possibly convey. She has Miss Gibson and Mr Graves in front of her, to the side and she... and she...
She crosses her arms, properly and firmly, defensively against her chest.
"I know what happens when you people clean up mistakes and accidents," is what she says. She intends to spit it out, all furious anger. Instead, even to her own ears her voice sounds flat. Flat and small.