She took quick advantage of the dingy restrooms, washing her hands as thoroughly as the cheap, watered-down soap allowed, and went back out to the waiting area, killing time by studying the plaque, reading each name to herself. 53... not a lot over a hundred years, one might think, but all from a single precinct? That was more than one every two years, an unheard-of frequency even in the city.<br/><br/>She moved on to peering into the case, but also looked around now and then to take in the persons waiting, trying to figure out what they might be here for. Nothing good, judging by their uncomfortable posture, their scowls.