Oh, she'd said yes, of course - she chooses her fights carefully, and she'd thought protesting might be the straw that broke John's henpicked back - but she'd known that the rearrangement-for-Nigel was a flimsy disguise to keep her away from Peter as long as possible.
To be fair, she doesn't mind being away from the werewolf as much as possible. It's the corollary worry that they're trying to get her away not only for her own peace of mind and the werewolf's comfort, but so that the werewolf can continue socialising with John's children, that has her concerned.
Swinging by on Wednesday morning to offer a loo break to the guard on duty had offered her the chance to stay out of sight and cast a tracker on the werewolf. She'd thought that if he headed over to the Speaker's flat, she'd know. Meanwhile, she'd happily flung herself into her work, relieved to have the time to devote to what she was SUPPOSED TO DO after so long a preoccupation with the supernatural being in the Parliamentary prison cell and his inept keepers.
But now, on Friday afternoon, as she prepares for her shift, the small voice in the back of her head that she'd ignored to get her work done is piping up again. What if her tracker isn't working? She thinks she's quite good at trackers - she's used them before - but maybe she's rusty. What if the werewolf detected her and took it off, or got John to take it off? She thinks she would have noticed that, but see "rusty". What if the Parents of the Year brought their children down to the cell? She thinks they wouldn't have wanted their children to see "Uncle Peter" locked up, but maybe John redecorated enough so it didn't look quite like a cell.
Too many ifs. And while in her weaker moments she is shamefully guilty of thinking that perhaps she should just throw up her hands and let the Bercows parent as they will, even if their children end up bitten for it, she knows that such a course is both unethical and unprofessional.
But should she really go to DEFRA? It's only a few more days. And now it's nearly the weekend - her DEFRA contact may not even be in the office. If she goes to DEFRA, there will be a scandal, and the Bercows may have their children taken away, and Bercow will definitely have to resign as Speaker (she really doesn't think that the vast majority of MPs will approve of a werewolf menace in Parliament. Those right-wing nutters will have a field day. That Rees-Mogg fellow would probably cheerfully grab a firearm and a silver bullet and head down immediately.)
She sighs. Too much drama. This is why she's leaving in 2015. She's been around for a long time and done a damn good job. It's time to retire and focus on her garden and her DIY projects and her murder mysteries.
It's not retirement time yet, though, and the werewolf-situation still looms brightly in the foreground of her life. What to do? Have another shouting match with Sally? Lay down the law to John? Try to reason with the werewolf? Persuade the other guards to go on strike until the werewolf's boundaries are well reestablished?
A fifth solution presents itself suddenly. John is not the only Speaker in this equation. Frances hasn't been around as much recently, but if John's going to listen to anyone besides Sally, it will probably be Frances.
That decided, Dawn stands up decisively and heads off to Frances' office.*