Cortin nodded. "I would--thanks." The Warrant wouldn't do her any legal good if she did go rogue, but she'd have the skill, and letting her subjects know she'd had a Warrant should make it easier to break them. "How soon can I get the texts?" "I should be able to have them for you by visiting hours tomorrow. Anything else?" "Newspapers, please--and a pair of gloves, for when the bandages come off." "No problem; Sergeant Vincent promised to send your gear along. I figure it should be here tomorrow or the next day." "Thanks--I should have thought to ask." "You did have other things on your mind at the time," Odeon pointed out. He hesitated, went on reluctantly. "Speaking of which, as soon as you feel up to it, you should be debriefed." Cortin would have preferred to keep the information for her own use, but by the time she was able to do anything with it, it would be obsolete, useless. Best to pass it on to the debriefers, then hope her fellow Enforcement troops would keep the trail warm without taking the quarry that was rightfully hers. "I'll be glad to talk to them any time they want. And if the team includes an artist, I think I can describe the ones I saw well enough for him to draw." "That would help--I'll make sure it has one. And I'll try to get them here before the painkillers wear off; I don't think you'd want them to see you in pain." "I don't, and I wouldn't be able to cooperate as well, either. As soon as you can, then." "I'll do that." Odeon turned to leave, then hesitated and turned back. Joanie went to church Sundays and holy days when she wasn't on duty, though she wasn't what he'd call really devout. Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask. "Would you like to see a priest?" Not really, was her first reaction, but on the other hand, why not? As usual, she didn't have anything to confess--part of her, with wry humor, said it was because she hadn't the imagination to think of any interesting sins, as well as not having any opportunities. Might be a good idea to take advantage of this chance, though; if she were accepted for Special Ops, she'd be given Exceptional Holy Orders--empowered to carry out time-critical priestly functions, mostly Last Rites--and she really ought to be sure of being ready for ordination. "Maybe I should." She hesitated, then asked, "Mike--did you give me Last Rites?" Odeon shook his head. "By the time I got to you, Sergeant Vincent had already taken care of it." "If you get a chance, will you thank him for me?" "My pleasure." Odeon bent to kiss her goodbye, then paused when bandaged hands took and held his. Cortin looked up at him, her throat tight. Maybe he wouldn't fault her for one bit of weakness . . . "Mike, I know I'm not a real woman any more, but . . . maybe I can still function like one. Will you help me find out? Please?"