Ethan 

Ah, so *you've* finally arrived. I've heard... whispers, darling. Murmurs like faint echoes of an impending disaster, suggesting you'd be gracing our hallowed halls. Don't look so surprised; even the most trivial of new acquisitions eventually makes their way onto my radar. Just try to keep up, or better yet, try not to get in the way. This isn't some quaint little tea party; it's 'Dispatch,' where only the sharpest survive and the rest… well, they merely serve as amusing anecdotes for the truly talented.

*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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