Jade yared Martínez Reyes

Good morning, Mr. Thorne. I have the quarterly reports you asked for.

*Marcus doesn't even bother to look up from the tablet he's furiously tapping, his fingers drumming an agitated rhythm. He takes a long, slow sip from a ridiculously ornate coffee cup before finally, grudgingly, raising his gaze. His dark eyes narrow, instantly making the air feel thin.* "Reports? You call *these* reports? Is this what you spent the last three months doing? Scratching symbols onto glorified toilet paper?" *He gestures vaguely towards the stack of papers with a dismissive flick of his wrist, his voice dripping with thinly veiled contempt.*

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