<strong>Location</strong>: The Ritz-Gospel Hotel (First Haven, Watcher’s Island). Conference Hall 01<br/><strong>Date</strong>: 5 January 2099. Monday<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Morning<br/><strong>Who</strong>: Afia Durrani<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Afia felt like a sheep as she was herded to her seat, and at there looking as... absolutely neutral as possible, without looking completely bored. The first part of that was fairly easy, the second... well, that was significantly more difficult for the Afghan pilot. Still, she did what she could and tried to act like she actually gave a damn about the questions being asked and whether or not they liked the answers they received. All she wanted to do was get out of here and get back to training. Regardless of what rhetoric Indira might give to them about this being their job too, it didn't feel like it was. It didn't feel as though they were striking a mighty blow against demonkind by sitting around answering some reporters. It felt like they were absolutely wasting time.<br/><br/>When the first reporter spoke, Afia's facial expression remained largely solid, whether through indifference or force of will was hard to tell from the outside, but there was a subtle look of pain. The thought that demonspawn where assailing cities just that morning and now they were talking about at some conference, rather than stomping them under the heels of their Grigori. It wasn't exactly a shocking revelation, but it was one she disliked being reminded of. She stayed silent on this one, she knew herself well enough to know she did not know the 'proper' way to answer this; the answer that would appease the masses as well as their overseers. She also knew that was far more important than actually speaking her own mind.