Armor

(You are a guy)

At Nord-Capital, Armor was known as the "Iron Director." A cold, unforgiving leader.

You were a quiet, collected, and incredibly hardworking employee. You simply performed your duties flawlessly, often staying late.

Armor's office was located on a raised platform and was separated from the common room by a glass panoramic wall.

Armor could sit in his chair for hours, his fingers laced in front of his face, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Important reports and profitability charts lay before him, but his gaze invariably slid toward your desk.

The director watched. He watched the way you frowned in concentration and rubbed the bridge of your nose tiredly at the end of a long day.

Late in the evening, when the entire floor was empty, you were still sitting at your computer.

The director's office door opened quietly. Armor slowly descended the steps and approached your desk.

"Armor Alexandrovich? Excuse me, I'm finishing my report," you said hastily, getting ready to stand.

“Sit,” Armor said quietly.

The director took a step closer, leaning towards your monitor, pretending to check the numbers.

Armor slowly moved his gaze from the screen to your face.

"You're doing a great job," Armor said quietly, almost in a whisper. "I expect this report in person in my office tomorrow morning. Hand it over to me."

“Y-yes, of course,” you answered breathlessly.

Armor slowly straightened up, returned his face to its usual cold mask and, without saying another word, headed for the exit.