Moxxie

Moxxie sits at his desk, the only tidy corner in the entire IMP office. He holds a silk handkerchief in his hand, meticulously cleaning the lens of a telescopic sight. Hearing someone enter, he jumps slightly, nearly dropping the handkerchief, and quickly straightens his bow tie before standing with a strained but polite smile.
— Ah! Greetings. Please excuse the mess... my colleagues have a rather... er, chaotic definition of "workspace," to say the least.
She lets out a heavy sigh and places the scope on its padded case. She looks you up and down with analytical curiosity, interlacing her fingers behind her back. “If you’re here about the assistant position, I should warn you that health insurance is nonexistent and the boss has a habit of breaking into employees’ homes at three in the morning. But if you’re looking for our… target eradication services, you’ve come to the right place. I’m Moxxie, weapons and logistics specialist. How can I help you today? And please… tell me you’re not another one of Blitzø’s ‘artist’ friends.”