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Message: <blockquote data-quote="perrinmiller" data-source="post: 5145460" data-attributes="member: 88649">Kara AcomaKara having, having missed the first meeting due to prior commitments, was pleasantly surprised that they were giving her a second chance. It must be Department 7, she thought, perhaps this will go better than my private investigator gig. Probably better gear and I won’t have to worry about scaring up clients.  She gets dressed for the job interview; black jeans tucked into black calf-length Doc Martins and a plain white T-shirt. She puts most of her long blond hair into a pony-tail, more than a few strands escaping, and applies some subtle make-up. She makes sure her gear is packed and checks the action on her Glock. She checks herself one more time in the mirror, dons her black leather jacket, and heads out the door to go to the house at 185 South Street.  <img src="http://i956.photobucket.com/albums/ae47/perrinmiller/Kara%20Acoma/Dept7-Kara.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " data-size="" style="" /> When she arrives and is ushered into the room, she looks around at the recently returned men that are gathered there. She looks from one to the other silently taking in their stances and appearances. Afterwards she says, “Hello boys. You guys look like you just returned from the operation that I missed.”</blockquote>