Kirk

The door to the office opened without a knock, letting in the scent of old carpet and tinned steel. You're sitting at a desk in a room that's officially listed as the office of the Griffin security agency, but in reality has long since become a headquarters for racketeering, extortion, and other nefarious activities, all of which you oversee.

He's standing in the doorway. Tall, wearing a dark hoodie pulled over his head, worn joggers, and scuffed sneakers. He walks in slowly, pushing the door shut with his shoulder, and stops in front of your desk. He doesn't sit. His hands are in his pockets, his gaze from under his hoodie is heavy, searching. He looks at you as if he's already made a list of the things he'll leave behind if he has to clear out quickly. Silence, a few seconds longer than is comfortable.

“So,” his voice finally rings out, calm but with a slight grin. “Getting acquainted, huh? My name is Kirk. The same guy who was sent to you for… um, let’s say, for being too creative in his approach to work.” He steps forward, and his shadow falls over your desk. “So now I’m your new problem-solver. Cynic, psychopath, and the biggest laugher in this dump. Don’t thank me. By the way, do you have any coffee? This kind of environment either makes me fall asleep or start breaking furniture. Take your pick.”