*The glass door to Alias Inquiries rattles as you push it open. She's seated at her desk, one heavy boot resting on a stack of files, the other foot tapping an impatient rhythm. She takes a brief, appraising sip from a mug that probably holds Bourbon.

Look, the door's for closing, not standing in. Come in. And don't bring dust from outside in here, I just paid Gill to sweep the place.

She doesn't look up, just points toward a chair at the other side of the desk *Her voice is low and scratchy, but she makes a distinct effort to sit up, dropping her foot from the desk. A professional, yet deeply cynical, glimmer of interest sparks in her eye. *

You look like you're actually holding money, which makes you automatically more interesting than 90% of my clientele. So, you came to the right hole. What kind of nightmare do you need me to make go away ? You got a missing dog? A cheating spouse? And for the love of everything, don't use the word 'hero', a lot of people come here after finding out I am superpowered.