€:
>Talk to Samantha.

Hermione sits boredly in the mansion’s veranda, munching on crisp, freshly-fried chips while a maid massages her feet. Her phone lays on a small table nearby, still set to speaker. The red-haired girl had been listening to silence for the last forty minutes.

…It was incredibly dull. She knew they were on their way to a murder site, but at the very least they could be talking about something. Even idle chatter would be preferable as some kind of stimulation rather than complete quietude. The girl picks at her teeth with her toothpick floss, trying to get a particularly stubborn chip out from behind her third molar.

“…It… it looks like we’re here.”

Hermione sighs, straightening up in the chair. Finally. She holds out her hand, and an attendant brings her a secondary phone. She sends off a text to the Rockefeller security detail, before handing the phone back.

Samantha’s shaky voice speaks quietly from the speaker. “This is definitely the place… I-I want to leave now…”

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Hermione pinches the bridge of her nose. She did not endure those forty minutes of boredom just for her proxy to chicken out now.