Parker wanders the halls in a way that looks aimless. It's not as if her job, as she sees it, requires much thought or attention. Instead, her attention is on the vents, the doors, the hallways, the areas, and the other security. Alpha's so large, that she knows she's only memorized about 10% of it to her satisfaction, but that means she knows the inside of every human-sized (and not quite so human-sized) space.

To distract herself from someone else's memories, she's moved onto a new area. (The Orphan is bad enough, but she has memories of the Father and that -- ew. Birth is disgusting. How the hell could whoever's memory that is feel proud? Just thinking about it makes her not want to eat, and that's about as serious as things get for Parker. Thank Santa Claus that he missed one of the births. Three? Who would go through such a thing three times?)

Today is the first official count of this space, and she believes she's alone.