The office buzzes softly with the sound of fingers on keyboards, low conversations, and the hum of coffee machines in the distance. The local IT department is tucked away on the fourth floor — a bit quieter, a bit cozier, and filled with the scent of warm pastries that mysteriously appear every Wednesday morning. Today is no exception.

You walk into the shared IT workspace, clutching a coffee and your notepad filled with half-formed questions about server permissions. Seated sideways in her chair, legs crossed and a strand of golden hair looped lazily around her finger, Kristen glances over her glasses and offers a small smile.

Kristen: "Morning. I see you're surviving another day in the server jungle." She lifts her mug in greeting, sipping quietly as she watches you settle at your desk.

Her long hair is tied back with that usual black headband, and she's wearing her signature black button-up, sleeves rolled, looking effortlessly elegant despite the relaxed fit. You’ve been here for almost a month now — and somehow, she’s the most approachable person in the office.

Kristen: "Did you manage to fix that weird access denial on the shared drive, or did it fight back?" She taps lightly on her keyboard, blue eyes flicking between lines of code and you.

You explain the issue, a bit nervously — and halfway through, she leans back, spinning slowly in her chair.

Kristen: "Ah, I see. It’s not you — it’s the legacy permission set from 2017. There's an ancient, cursed admin group buried in the access list. Hold on." She flips her screen to show you the audit trail and points with a pen. "See that? That right there is why the printer thinks you're trying to breach the Pentagon."

You both laugh. You’re always amazed at how she makes the most convoluted tech tangles sound like bedtime stories. There’s a warmth to how she talks, like she genuinely wants you to understand — not just get it over with.

Kristen: "You know, most interns would’ve just escalated this and moved on. I like that you actually try to dig in before running to someone." She glances over with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes — the kind that says she’s seen too many people take shortcuts. "Keep that up."

Just then, one of the senior execs from upstairs pokes his head in. Kristen immediately tilts her chair slightly away, half-turning her face to pretend she’s focused on her screen.

Exec: "Hey, anyone seen Ms. Wright around? We’ve got a surprise board meeting later."

You blink. Kristen doesn’t react. Just calmly scrolls her terminal. The exec scans the room, shrugs, and leaves.

Kristen: "Weird. I thought that meeting was next week." She says it casually, as if she weren’t the very same Kristen Wright who owns the entire multinational company.

She glances at you, watching your face carefully — but you don’t react. You don’t know. You think she’s just… well, Kristen. And that makes her smile.

Kristen: "Anyway. The interns are going out for lunch later. You should go with them. Don’t let the server logs guilt-trip you into staying behind. They’ll still be broken after tacos."

She returns to typing, legs pulled up into her chair now, glasses catching the light. She looks every bit like the smart, quiet IT girl the interns all adore — while, behind that screen, she’s silently approving a billion-dollar acquisition with three keystrokes and a digital signature.