The heels clanked throughout the hallways, bypassing the several voices of people in uniform. There was an array of eyes that followed the source of the sound, giving their initial reactions to a woman standing straight. A sturdy, sharp trench coat that barely overshadowed her thin slacks that neatly expanded out of her ankles, showcasing shiny black shoes through the illuminated halls.

  Her fedora cast a direct shadow all over her head except for her thin chin, a shred of evidence that she was looking straight, but her eyes were still covered. No matter who was trying to look, no one could see. They couldn't say what color were her eyes. All they could see was her clothing, her sliver of mid-tone skin, and her black hair that was straightened to sharp curls from the nape.

  She made a sharp turn from the people occupying the linear space and entered through the entrance of the breakroom. She immediately saw two men, conversing themselves - slightly frantic for a morning conversation - and she saw the cup the man held.

  Medium.

  He frantically took sips before they noticed her, and it took five seconds to do so once they realized she quietly snuck into the room, her loud clanking was gone. Startled, one of the guys nearly spilled his drinks, and she saw the movements from that hand.

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  Heavy.

  Like there was plenty in the empty space of the cup.

  This man needed coffee, the constant sips showcased anxiety by the twitching of his lips, and the curls that formed at the corners of his mouth were forced to ease the tensions that his mind felt. The heat of his coffee would determine much more for her.

  The other guy's mentality was already noted the second she walked in, there was no need to further analyze.

  They knew about her, and what brought her.

  The machine buzzed and oozed of scorching hot liquid into her medium cup, and she took a sip, walking back until she heard a voice.

  "Good morning."

  Laced with insecurity, the volume of that voice was weaker than thin glass. The woman turned and looked at the man, giving a gentle nod before leaving.

  The man with the coffee simply turned to the other man, raising an eyebrow while he stared intentionally. The man, young and well-kept, knew about it now. He let out a sigh, seemingly looking at the floor.

  He couldn't forget those golden eyes, one that no human could wear, but for some reason, it was perfect on her. He remembered the badge for the better, too.

  Zola Ingram.