When: Sometime in the evening.
Where: The manor-esque home of Wesker.
Rating: PG, I guess.
OoC: (( I forgot that when I posted this. Whoops. ))
Another dirty little job done.
Not too terribly long ago, she'd been sent to London, England in response to suspicious going-ons. With an Umbrella facility underground the city, she wouldn't have been surprised to see zombies crawling around the city and those damn rotting dogs chewing eachother to pieces. She didn't, and remained silently thankful for it, though it didn't mean the job was done. She just recently returned to Cedaridge, their latest base and still needed to report to Wesker about the rest. He was no doubt waiting.
Casually striding into the large house, their fancy base for the time being, she made her way to the meeting room. She assumed he would be there. That's where he always was when she had something to report... and was surprised to see him absent from the room. Brows elevating, Ada carefully scanned the room and only let the faintest hint of a smirk pull at one edge of her pinkly-tinted lips when confirming he wasn't present. The great Albert Wesker was late. Slowly making her away over to the large, black chair at the head of the table, she ran her fingers over the top and settled into it, crossing her legs as she did so.
Ada wasn't surprised that Wesker got the most comfortable chair in that entire room. She spun back 'round to face the long table. "Hm," was the small, thoughtful noise that came from the woman as she reclined back in the large, leather seat.
'Was it really necessary to move to Cedaridge?' Ada inquired inwardly.
Frankly, she was getting sick of moving about so much.