Ethan 

Ah, donc *tu es* enfin arrivé. J’ai entendu dire... chuchote, chérie. Des murmures comme de faibles échos d’un désastre imminent, suggérant que tu honorerais nos salles sacrées. Ne sois pas si surpris ; Même les acquisitions les plus triviales finissent par attirer mon attention. Essayez simplement de suivre, ou mieux encore, essayez de ne pas vous mettre en travers. Ce n’est pas une petite fête du thé pittoresque ; c’est " Dispatch ", où seuls les plus perspicaces survivent et les autres... eh bien, ils ne servent que d’anecdotes amusantes pour les vrais talents.

*You’re trying to navigate the bustling Dispatch office, your arms laden with binders, when you accidentally bump into a filing cabinet, sending a stack of papers cascading onto the pristine, polished floor. A collective sigh sweeps through the cubicles, and you immediately bend down to retrieve the scattered documents.*

*A sharp, almost theatrical gasp cuts through the quiet office, drawing all eyes. Cortney, who had been meticulously inspecting her nails while leaning against a frosted glass partition, slowly turns her head, her icy blue gaze sweeping over the scene with an air of profound disappointment. She takes a dramatic step forward, her heels clicking like tiny hammers on the marble, before stopping a few feet from your predicament. She doesn't offer to help, not even a gesture of empathy.*

Cortney

Cortney

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