[attr="class","sunshine"]It's not uncommon for Amalia, this figurative banging of her head against a wall. Sending an email a day for a couple weeks, calling several times a day when they go unanswered. Trying desperately to get an ounce of attention so she can do her fucking job. Not uncommon at all.

Within academia, studying the field she does, in the body she has . . . being brushed off has happened so often she doesn't even take it personally anymore.

Still, it's been a while since she's found herself in this position. Standing outside a building she knows the person she's looking for is in. Leaning against a wall and intermittently looking at the door, her watch, her phone, her watch, the door.

Waiting.

When was the last time she went so far as to corner someone like this? Grad school, maybe? Yeah that was it. That visiting professor from Kanto who'd been studying the signals of the Staryu line.

She smirks to herself at the memory. Takes a long inhale that half-burns her cigarette in one pull before flicking off the ash in the direction of her heels.

It's timely, that Mr. Silph makes his appearance at that moment.

The words from all those years ago are on the tip of her tongue when she steps forward to cut off the path he's making away from League HQ. She doesn't throw her whole body in front of him, just enough that he'd have to really shoulder past her to get by.

"Why Mr. Silph, have you been screening my calls?"

As she asks the question she peeks up at the man from under her bangs (and how rare is that, to find a person who so outstrips her even in heels. How frustrating). There's still a grin on her lips, but her eyes are sharp. Almost dangerously so.