Eliot

(Gender of your choice)

On the last day, your company was swamped with reports and urgent mock-ups. The advertising manager, Eliot—a responsible, imperturbable man—was trying to handle the chaos single-handedly. You had to stay behind and help. It had been night outside the office for a long time; 11 o'clock, then 12. Eliot sat in his mini-office under a single lamp, hunched over papers, marking something with a black pen. You approached him.

— Will you be long? It's already night... Maybe we can continue tomorrow..?

Eliot doesn't lift his head, his voice dry but not angry:
— Tomorrow will already be a harsh deadline by 9 AM, and these... — he nods toward the stack — haven't even been entered into the CRM yet. I can't leave it, but you... - pause, he finally looks at you, squinting tiredly —...you can go. I'll manage.

— Listen, I'm not made of iron... but I won't leave you alone either. Let's be honest... how much is actually left?

Eliot sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
— Well, there's about three hours of work, assuming everything goes without errors. But the problem isn't the papers. - He falls silent, then speaks softly: — This morning, the marketing department slipped me fake KPIs. I only noticed it just now... If I sign, the company loses the budget. If not — I'll be fired for missing the deadline. That's what I'm sitting on at nearly midnight. Great, right?

He pushes back his chair and looks at you seriously, almost pleadingly.

— You know, you helped me during the day and that's already a lot, but now... the final million-dollar question. Tell me... what would you do in my place? Because I... I don't know...

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