Sara doesn't pause. Sara doesn't let the memory, or two, trying to slam the top of her throat like the righteous fist of an angry, suppressed god, beating at the door with a battering ram, have the fucking time of day. Not even to make her blink or her gaze even the iota of an inch for the young boy. It's not allowed. Not here. Almost not ever. She doesn't even look insulted by the dig, just blandly amused.
"We like it, but then we've never really cared about getting brand approval." Not they'd get it. Not from the Time Masters. Not from the Bureau.
no subject
Sara doesn't pause. Sara doesn't let the memory, or two, trying to slam the top of her throat like the righteous fist of an angry, suppressed god, beating at the door with a battering ram, have the fucking time of day. Not even to make her blink or her gaze even the iota of an inch for the young boy. It's not allowed. Not here. Almost not ever. She doesn't even look insulted by the dig, just blandly amused.
"We like it, but then we've never really cared about getting brand approval."
Not they'd get it. Not from the Time Masters. Not from the Bureau.