It had been so long since Markus' abduction Anne almost felt tonight's meeting futile. There had been a time or so over the past few months that she had thought they were close only to not find him. She no longer went to bed a sobbing mess. Instead, she was numb and laid awake for hours, staring at the shirt that she now left folded on the pillow that had been his. Anne wasn't sure which was better. Either left her exhausted, and either way she had nightmares which sometimes gave way to joyful, intimate reunions that left her feeling empty as she awoke.
Anne had been called a bitch at work more than once these days, and while that was nothing new, it was new coming from some of the people. Perhaps she should take a week's holiday, but somehow that thought seemed worse. She'd be left sitting around her house doing nothing, and she was quite certain that would drive her absolutely batty. No, it was better she worked, even if she drove co-workers 'round the bend with her weekly lunch visits to the Imperium Guards inquiring about the investigation, which she gathered had practically been abandoned. The larger one had pulled her aside once and had suggested to her she speak with the von Wolfram family as they had been preparing a memorial for their son. Anne had given him a look and gone to the bathroom to be alone. It had been too much. Markus was alive. He had to be. She'd feel it, wouldn't she? If he were truly gone, she'd feel it?
Still, Anne went through the motions and met with Kara here and there, though the meetings had become a bit more infrequent. She wasn't sure if that meant Kara was losing hope too or not. It was hard to gauge someone you barely knew without asking, after all, and Anne was not about to ask. She didn't want to hear any affirmative response. To hear that aloud from Kara, the one person she'd found who seemed to actually care about Markus? No. No. Even Markus' ex-wife had shown little interest in trying to help. Perhaps she had cried in private. Anne had no way of knowing that, yet she still found herself believing Kirsten a heartless bitch. It was easier, somehow.
As soon as Anne entered The Abbey, she'd headed to the booth in the corner she and Kara used, thankful it wasn't occupied. There had been one time it had been, and she'd about had a nervous breakdown over it. That booth was their booth. It was their constant just as much as Kara was her constant in this. Change wasn't something she could handle, even if it was just a bloody booth. She waved off the waitress who came to ask what she wanted, barely even registering the waitress was female. Her eyes were glued to the door, ready for Kara's entrance.