argyle_princess: (graduation 1)
All in all, it's a pretty uneventful graduation ceremony, by Neptune standards. Which is to say, no one is arrested in the middle of it. (Say what you like about Vinnie Van Lowe, but he knows better than to interrupt the big day of the little darlings of Neptune's Who's Who just to arrest a nobody biker.)

The ceremony itself is, of course, only the beginning of things -- there will be a solid week of parties around Neptune, with a great deal of negotiation between parents to determine who gets Saturday night and who gets stuck with Wednesday afternoon. There's a school sponsored please-don't-get-yourself-killed-on-graduation-night party tonight, but it can't compete with the blow out Amber's throwing, and no one who's anyone is going. Hannah's skipping both (not that she was invited to the latter); she's had plans with Em for graduation for years, and they might even let the boys tag along.

She needs to find her parents (who seem to be doing a halfway decent job of getting along today, much to Hannah's utter relief) but right now there's a brief lull in the hugs and congratulations, and Hannah is taking a moment.

She's survived high school. In Neptune. And she has the diploma to prove it.
argyle_princess: (in a good mood)
Previously . . .

It's been a relatively quiet day at Neptune High. Hannah had no papers due and no tests toay. No major scandals have broken, everyone is still dating or not dating the people they were dating or not dating this morning, no one's been beaten up or taped to a flagpole.

Everyone has just kind of coasted in lunch, which is where Hannah finds herself now, at her usual seat at her usual table (between Sam and Emily and across from Geoff). She isn't quite following the technical details of the story Sam is telling (and Geoff is vehemently if not convincingly denying), about something that happened in their last soccer match, but it's making her laugh anyway.

And then there's a murmur, that spreads across the courtyard the way murmurs do when Something has happened at lunch -- the opening move in the latest round of gossip. Hannah, still laughing, turns to see what's caused it this time.

Well, she wasn't expecting that, and there's a part of her that kind of wants to crawl under the table and wait for it to go away.

Instead she waves slightly to the newcomers on the other side of the courtyard.

They really are lucky she likes them.
argyle_princess: (confused)
Previously . . .


It’s the way high school halls work. One moment, they’re empty, and then a bell rings, and they fill very suddenly with people who have four minutes to get to wherever they’re supposed to be next.

Of course, at Neptune High, getting to your next class is the least of the things to worry about in the hallways between classes – it’s a chance to grab things from your locker, catch teasers on gossip to be shared over lunch, greet friends and shun enemies. There’s a chance, too, you’ll see which couples have gotten together or split up (or at least who’s holding hands in the halls today). You might see a fistfight, or a fellow student being led out of the school in handcuffs.

Hannah’s seen all of those things, at one point or another. But there are certain things you just do not expect to see in the halls of a high school, even if that high school is in Neptune.

This? Would be really high on her list.

“Dr. Brennan? Agent Booth?”
argyle_princess: (a little melancholy)
As an excuse to visit the San Diego area goes, the Museum of Man is probably about as good as it gets for an anthropologist. Very kind of them to put it there, really.

But that's all it is -- an excuse. Hannah knows it even when Brennan calls to invite her down to look at the very interesting skull she's theortically flown 3000 miles to see.

The purpose of this trip, Hannah knows, is so that Brennan can tell her what she had learned from Commodore Lyon. Which she does. In a very Brennan sort of way, calmly and logically and in a very ordered fashion. It's rationally told, even when it's fantastic.

And Hannah, looking down at the 14th century skull over which they are having this conversation, nods a lot, and doesn't interrupt, and doesn't say anything even when Brennan finishes.
argyle_princess: (asleep)
Hannah thinks that Brennan is right about most things, and Hannah knows she's right about needing to eat and sleep and so on.

So Hannah eats. All right, Hannah mostly pushes soup around the bowl with her spoon, but she eats at least a third of it, and in her defense, it is a very large bowl.

She drinks all the juice.

She brushes her teeth, showers, works the tangles out of her hair, puts on mint green flannel pajamas provided by Bar, hangs her clothes in the bathroom so the wrinkles would fall out.

Small things that add up to living, right?

It would be nice to sleep, because sleeping is one way to stop thinking, and one that doesn't later involve having to join a twelve step program. Hannah is just not especially optimistic about it happening any time soon.

But she curls up on her side, arms and legs drawn in tight, blanket pulled up to nose, facing the chair Brennan is sitting in. There's some conversation about nothing in particular, but Hannah's replies get slower and shorter and less distinct, and (if she were awake to notice) she'd be surprised how quickly she falls asleep.

She stays very still for a long time, but eventually, (and gradually) she relaxes, uncurls.

She might be dreaming.

She also might now be drifting in that place between sleeping and waking, not quite dreaming but also not quite picking her thoughts.

Whatever it is, those thoughts are tumbled and jumbled and they don't quite fit together, like pieces of different puzzles dumped out onto the floor.

And then she sits bolt upright, gasping.

Whatever she was before, she's awake now.
argyle_princess: (asleep)
Temperance Brennan's apartment is, at this moment, more or less silent.

This is because Hannah is the only person here right now, and she is still fast asleep, curled up on the sofa bed with the stuffed mouse she no longer cares that Brennan knows about, sleeping the dreamless, motionless sleep of the exhausted.
argyle_princess: (worried)
It would have been hard to miss Angela's scream. Maybe -- maybe -- if you were deaf. But Hannah kind of thinks you'd have heard it anyway.

She bolts out of her chair and starts for the door.

"Miss Griffith, I need you to stay here, please," says the guard, moving between her and the open door, reaching for his radio.

"That was -- I have -- what's going on? I'm not going to --"

"Miss Griffith, calm down, please. I need to you stay here."

Most of the chatter into his radio is in code, or pseudo-military guard speak, which might as well be code, for all Hannah understands. It is a few minutes before he turned back to her.

"No one's hurt."

Hannah eyes him, skeptically. "I heard Ang--someone scream."

"Just startled. Please wait here, Miss Griffith."

Hannah doesn't buy it, but she sits back down. And when the guard outside the door is suddenly joined by a second, she buys it even less.

There's a journal open in her lap, but Hannah isn't reading it.
argyle_princess: (won't look down (eyes ahead))
Hannah knows something is up.

Well, duh. Obviously. Escaped serial killer and all. But there’s something more to it than that, she thinks.

Dr. Sayoran had pulled her out of the lab, away from a cheerful, laughing conversation about a newspaper article, about two hours after Dr. Brennan left with Agent Booth. “Sorry,” Dr. Sayoran said, after she’d explained a little about Howard Epps and his escape. “I’m going to need everyone pretty focused right now.”

Hannah had nodded, yawning. (One of the workers renovating the apartment next to Dr. Brennan’s left his radio on last night, and it turns out hip hop is not exactly conducive to sleep.) “It’s okay. I mean, it’s more important and all. And I have a ton of stuff to read.”

Dr. Sayoran left her in the lounge. Two hours later, Dr. Sayoran asks her to gather up her stuff. “I’m going to have you relocate to my office for a bit.”

“Your office? Won’t I be in the way?”

“Not really. And we need the lounge for a bit. Just make yourself comfortable, and if you need anything, ask.”

Hannah’s pretty sure the person she’s supposed to ask if she needs anything is the security guard in the chair outside Dr. Sayoran’s office. She’s also pretty sure that neither the guard nor the chair was there yesterday.

She looks at the next marked article she’s supposed to read, and then closes the journal. “Screw it,” she mutters, and pulls out her laptop.

Fifteen minutes later, she’s skimmed the first four items that Google brings up on Howard Epps.

Something is definitely up.
argyle_princess: (not just a pretty face)
For the most part, Hannah has spent the first two days of her internship shadowing someone while they went about their regular routine. Usually, she follows Tempera--errr, Dr. Brennan, but also Ang--Ms. Montenegro and Dr. Hodgins and even the newly PhD'ed Dr. Addy. (Dr. Addy did not, contrary to confindent predictions, have kittens. But he also didn't know exactly how to deal with a sixteen-year-old intern, so he just talked very fast at her about whatever he was doing. Hannah caught about a fifth of it, understood maybe half of that, and tried not to smile.) She even talked briefly to Dr. Saroyen, who first asked how she met Dr. Brennan, and then tried to steer her towards pathology.

But there are times when people are doing things she really can't shadow -- because she lacks security clearance or because they require a level of concentration that doesn't lend itself to explaining as you go along or simply because there are some things you just don't show a sixteen-year-old intern, no matter how interested in forensic anthropology she is. And usually that means she's just off shadowing someone else, but now they're all reviewing something on the Angelator that Hannah can't see for at least one and possibly all of those reasons.

So she's settled at one of the couches on the balcony that overlooks the lab with coffee and her laptop. She's making notes on what she's seen and what she's learned, because she has a report to write when she gets back to Neptune. And if she finishes that, she has a pile of journal articles she's supposed to read. Or, you know, try to read.

E-mail

Dec. 13th, 2006 09:07 pm
argyle_princess: (computer)
To: Temperance Brennan <tbrennan@jeffersonian.gov>
From: Hannah Griffith <hannahgriffith@neptunehigh.org>
Subj: Liked Your Book

Dear Dr. Brennan,

I found this address on the Jeffersonian's website, and I really hope it's okay to be writing to you at it. My name is Hannah Griffith, I'm a junior at Neptune High, and I just finished reading your book and I just wanted to tell you that I really enjoyed reading it. Kathy Reichs was just an incredibly cool character, and the forensic anthropology stuff was interesting.

Is it all right to ask you what advice you'd have for a sixteen-year-old girl who'd like to learn more about forensic anthropology? I'll completely understand if you're way too busy to answer fan e-mails from random high school students, but I figured it didn't hurt to ask.

Anyway, the book was great and I'm already looking forward to your next one.

Sincerely,
Hannah Griffith

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argyle_princess: (Default)
Hannah Griffith

June 2009

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