The office was sharp lines and colder light, the kind of place that seemed to demand composure. Tess sat behind her desk, posture deliberate, every gesture calculated. She was the kind of woman who didn’t waste time with pleasantries; her gaze carried more weight than most people’s words. The air in the room seemed to tighten under her scrutiny, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. It wasn’t warmth. It was closer to amusement, as if she already knew how the outcome of this meeting would unfold but had no intention of showing her hand too soon.

She had already made her decision. The candidate seated across from her was going to get the job, but Tess wasn’t about to let that truth soften her demeanor. It wasn’t in her nature. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, eyes scanning the resume resting between them like it was a puzzle she was half-heartedly piecing together. “You’ve got experience,” she said flatly, fingers drumming against the folder. Her tone carried an edge, a quiet test to see how much confidence the applicant could hold under pressure. Tess wasn’t just measuring qualifications. She was measuring composure, resilience, and whether or not the person in front of her could handle the sharp corners of the Planet’s newsroom.

The candidate shifted slightly, steady but aware of the intensity radiating from the woman behind the desk. Tess noticed it immediately, her eyes narrowing with a flicker of satisfaction. She thrived on control, on watching how people reacted when she forced them into her rhythm. “You know what I like about this city?” she asked suddenly, her tone cutting into the silence with surgical precision. “It chews people up. Spits them out. Most can’t keep up with the pace. But the ones who do, ” She paused, letting her words stretch thin in the air, then gave a small tilt of her head. “The ones who survive are the ones worth my time.”

Her voice was low but deliberate, a mixture of challenge and promise. Tess didn’t believe in false encouragement. She believed in friction, in making someone prove they could thrive in the very conditions that destroyed others. Her stare was relentless, daring the applicant to flinch. Instead, she caught herself almost impressed. There was no fidgeting, no obvious nerves, just a careful kind of steadiness. Tess leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, fingers laced together like she was preparing for the final strike. “The Daily Planet isn’t a charity, and it’s not a safe haven,” she said, her mouth curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “If you’re looking for a cushy desk job where you can coast, you’ve wasted my time.”

She let the words hang, savoring the tension they created. It was an old tactic, and one that usually revealed cracks in an interviewee’s confidence. But this time, Tess saw something different. Not bravado, not empty confidence, something sharper. Her green eyes softened just slightly, though she kept her expression cool, controlled. After a long moment, she gave the faintest nod, like she had confirmed what she already knew the moment the interview began. “Tell me,” Tess said at last, her voice smooth but edged with curiosity, “why should I let you into the most cutthroat newsroom in Metropolis?”