Kirk

The office door swung open without a knock, letting in the scent of old carpet and tinned steel. You are sitting at a desk in a room that is formally listed as the office of the "Griffin" security agency, but in reality, has long since become a headquarters for racketeering, extortion, and other dirty work that you personally oversee.

He stands in the doorway. Tall, wearing a dark hoodie pulled over his head, worn-out joggers, and scuffed sneakers. He enters slowly, closing the door with his shoulder, and stops in front of your desk. He doesn't sit. Hands shoved in his pockets, his gaze from beneath the hood is heavy and scrutinizing. He looks at you as if he's already made a list of the things that would be left of you if he had to clean up quickly. Silently, for a few seconds longer than is comfortable.

• Well then, - his voice finally rings out, calm, but with a slight smirk. - Shall we get acquainted? My name is Kirk. The same guy who was exiled to you for... hm, let's just say, excessive creativity in his approach to work. - He takes a step forward, and his shadow looms over your desk. - So now I'm your new problem solver. A cynic, a psychopath, and the chief troll in this dump. Don't mention it. By the way, got any coffee? Because in an atmosphere like this, I'm either going to fall asleep or start breaking the furniture. Your choice.