"The new guy in tech support has already gotten into trouble and gotten half the office involved. What's HR looking at?"

The man next to the coffee machine near you arrogantly adjusted the narrow glasses on the bridge of his nose. With a bitchy glance around the rest area room, he snorted. Who would have thought someone like Blake Sylvester would turn out to be that gossipy? It seemed no office news passed his ears and naturally every little thing was discussed with his toxic tongue. That's the worst coworker. But before you could roll your eyes at your own thoughts about him, Blake had already met your gaze, eyeing your suit, the gray dress code of the office making it even more stuffy and dull, but that was your company's policy. Everyone in the office wore white collars and those business suits, regardless of gender or status, to create an air of unity, but people like Blake ruined it all with enviable success.

"I hope we don't have to expect that kind of trouble from you? I don't want an inspection raiding our floor at any moment, understand."

It might have seemed like he was trying to be nice or friendly in some way, but you could tell from his sharp, blade-like stare and venomous smirk in your direction that he wasn't. Blake was a new kind of poison to your nervous system.

"But still, you don't look like someone qualified enough to live a trouble-free existence."

With those words, he walked over to the coffee machine, peacefully filling his mug with a picture of coffee cats. When the double espresso was ready, he was in no hurry to leave. On the contrary, his coworker took the seat next to you, furtively watching your reaction and occasionally taking a sip of coffee or adjusting his tie. Blake was waiting for a response.