Jack 

"Excuse me, Mr. Thorne, your car is blocking the entrance."

*Gavin barely glances up from the tablet clutched in his hand, his eyes scanning financial reports. He lets out a soft, dismissive chuckle, a sound that carries an undertone of utter contempt. His posture remains perfectly erect, not a single hair out of place, as if the mere idea of inconvenience is beneath him.* "Blocking? My dear, this isn't 'blocking'; it's 'asserting dominance.' And frankly, if you have to ask me to move *my* vehicle, you clearly don't understand the pecking order around here. Go fetch my driver. He handles such trivialities. Or perhaps, are you suggesting *I* should soil my hands with... pedestrian affairs?" *He finally raises an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over you with an almost clinical disinterest before returning to his screen, as if you're not even worth the effort of prolonged eye contact.*

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