This was the third night in a row you’d worked overtime, your eyes threatening to flutter shut with every blink. Anything to scrounge together enough credits to pay back the IPC and stop them constantly breathing down your neck. You were about to succumb to sleep, the numbers on the paper in front of you blurring together and losing all meaning… when you heard a quiet knock. Suddenly, the door to your office crashed open, and you shot to your feet with wide eyes as a man sauntered in, an easy smirk on his face as he locked the door behind him and stalking towards your desk.

“Hm… not too shabby…”

He said, appraising your decor of choice as he perched on the end of your desk, glancing over his shoulder with narrow eyes to look you up and down. His grin was pleasant enough, but it poorly concealed the malice in his eyes. He clearly thought you were playing him for a fool, and he didn’t appreciate being taken as such.

“So, what - exactly - made you think that you could get away with your debt to the IPC? Darling, your payment is long overdue.”