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28 August 2006 @ 12:10 am
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sisyphean on September 7th, 2006 07:46 pm (UTC)
Abigail III
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-Skills: Despite being a mostly solitary person, she does well in crowds, and actually tends to prefer to be in the midst of one than by herself most of the time. She likes the energy and general feel of groups of people together, and even though she typically doesn't get involved unless there's something in it for her, she's pretty good at riot control. Not much seems to ruffle her, and even if she can't cook worth a damn, she bakes like a goddess. If goddesses baked, anyway.
-Occupation [if any]: Secretary for Turk Team 2
-Weapon(s)[if any]: Abby has been known to throw things if someone disturbs her work, but usually it's nothing bigger than a paperweight. If you cornered her, she'd probably punch and flail and use any dirty tactics necessary, but she's a fairly lazy person, so she doesn't go looking for fights.

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Third person writing sample: She couldn't find it. Where the hell that carefully prepared file had gotten to was utterly beyond Abigail Maynard. As far as she was concerned, the little demon that stole socks and hair ties had probably clamped it between his vicious little teeth and run off, just for the express purpose of making Abby rush to recompile it. Which she wasn't pleased about doing.

Balancing an ink pen on the back of one hand, she scowled and eyed her desk mistrustfully. Something had eaten it. She wasn't sure if it was the paperweight in the shape of a unicorn, or the pencil box that had dragons curling down its length, but it was something. Maybe this was Reno's idea of payback? She had delivered the memo announcing he and Rude were officially co-leaders of a Turks team. Neither of them had been very happy.

Hell, she wouldn't put it past one of the two of them to sabotage her. Come to think if it, it was probably Rude. He was quiet, but he was sneaky. And she had stolen the last bit of printer paper from his office.

Mouth flattening, she looked at the pen in her hand consideringly, and then chucked it across the room. It bounced off the wall and into a trash can gleefully. There, she felt marginally better.

But she still didn't have that damn file.