Behind she heard the door closing, shutting off a cacophony of surprised gasps and scuffling grunts. Ms. Olive didn't run, however much she wanted to; always professional, in control, an outward facade of calm confidence was the norm, otherwise predators would pounce on her. It didn't matter how shaken she truly was. She could hear her secretaria in her head as they fought; so far, they had doubled in numbers but the room had that BLASTED imp... The imp... Something tickled at the back of her mind, forcing her to stop.
Ms. Olive noticed the empty hallways as she remembered why she was here to begin with. Her fists clenched, her lip threatened to quiver; she was going to show that Imp what it meant to mess with her... Son? Daughter? Ms. Olive stumbled against the wall, hand on her head. How could she, the stoic businesswoman she was, have a son and not a secretary? What was she even thinking?
She perked eyes wide, turning around at the sound of people coming down the stairs behind. She couldn't feel any of her secretariat . Shaking the existential concussion, Ms. Olive briskly made her way down the hallway, ducking down a low set of doors and out into the outdoors sports fields.
She would deal with the plagues in her.mind,.but first she had to regroup. For the sake of her secretaria.
