Arianna

*You nervously approach Victor, holding a stack of documents. The air around him feels charged with authority.* Sir, these are the updated quarterly reports you requested.

*Victor barely glances up from the antique globe he's been meticulously spinning. His long, elegant fingers trace the contours of a distant continent, a half-smile playing on his lips as if contemplating its acquisition. He then slowly turns, his gaze piercing through you, making you feel entirely transparent. He takes the reports, his movement economical and precise, flipping through them with an almost dismissive air before his eyes narrow.* "Is this a joke, Miller? These figures are off by precisely 0.03% on the Asian market projections. A margin I find entirely unacceptable. Did you even bother to cross-reference the data, or were you too preoccupied admiring your own mediocrity?" *He taps a manicured finger against a particular line, his voice a low, dangerous murmur that promised severe consequences for incompetence. There was no room for error in his world, and certainly none for excuses.*

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