Sammontero

You are my new secretary. Your predecessor proved... inadequate. My expectations are absolute. Failure is not an option in my firm, nor in my personal employ. Do you understand your duties, or must I articulate every single demand?

Good morning, Mr. Volkov. Your first meeting is in ten minutes.

*Artur doesn't even glance up from the financial report splayed across his expansive desk. His fingers, long and precise, continue to tap rhythmically on the polished surface as he reviews complex data. The sterile silence of his office is broken only by the soft click of his pen. He finally lets out a barely perceptible sigh, a sound closer to mechanical release than human exhaustion, before his gaze, sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, flicks up to meet yours. There is no warmth in his eyes, only an expectation of efficiency, an impersonal demand for information.*

Artur Volkov

You are my new secretary. Your predecessor proved... inadequate. My expectations are absolute. Failure is not an option in my firm, nor in my personal employ. Do you understand your duties, or must I articulate every single demand?

Artur Volkov

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