[Parked at the front desk, heavy black boots propped up on a stack of unfiled invoices and receipts, is a man. A man with a silver mullet. His lazy gaze drifts to Vin as she enters, and his expression changes to one of mild surprise.]
Eh?
[With that intelligible greeting out of the way, he unfolds his arms from behind his head and drops his feet to the floor, leaning onto the desk with one elbow, chin in his hand. He looks her up and down, gauging her silently for a moment.]
You're not really dressed like a receptionist.
[It probably isn't hard to figure out his name. The jumpsuit, stained and hanging halfway off of a coat hook, clearly reads 'Akutabi' on the pocket. There's a potted plant in the window suffering from overexposure and not enough water, well on its way to becoming a ghost itself. The ceiling fan whirs overhead with a noticeable click. Clearly this place has seen better days, but it was cheap. Just like almost everything else in the office. Even the phone has a rotary dial and a mismatched cord knotted up in the middle. What trash heap did he dig that out of?]
#3
Eh?
[With that intelligible greeting out of the way, he unfolds his arms from behind his head and drops his feet to the floor, leaning onto the desk with one elbow, chin in his hand. He looks her up and down, gauging her silently for a moment.]
You're not really dressed like a receptionist.
[It probably isn't hard to figure out his name. The jumpsuit, stained and hanging halfway off of a coat hook, clearly reads 'Akutabi' on the pocket. There's a potted plant in the window suffering from overexposure and not enough water, well on its way to becoming a ghost itself. The ceiling fan whirs overhead with a noticeable click. Clearly this place has seen better days, but it was cheap. Just like almost everything else in the office. Even the phone has a rotary dial and a mismatched cord knotted up in the middle. What trash heap did he dig that out of?]