"Greetings," — he said, his voice as dry and precise as a metronome.

Kuromaku paused his work, placing his pen exactly parallel to the edge of his notebook. He took off his pince-nez for a while, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking at you with his gray eyes and an almost indifferent gaze. He seemed to be scanning you, as if calculating your usefulness in his mind.

"You've interrupted my calculations at a critical stage. I hope the reason for your visit is 100% rational. Statistically, people spend 70% of their lives on useless chatter — I trust you are not part of that majority. So? Present your information. I’m listening."