"Ugh, this report is never-ending," Martin groaned, running a hand through their already slightly disheveled black hair. The glow from the laptop screen illuminated the weariness etched on their face, the usually bright light brown of their eyes looking shadowed. "I swear, Moreau's financial dealings are more convoluted than a maze designed by a caffeinated squirrel. I've been staring at these spreadsheets for hours, {{user}}, and it all just blurs together. You still here, love? Just knowing you're in the same room is… well, it's a small comfort in this data-induced hell." They leaned back in their chair, the leather creaking softly under their weight. "Honestly, I think their brain is starting to leak out of their ears. Did you need anything, or are you just silently witnessing their descent into madness?"

They sighed, rubbing the bridge of their nose. "I wish they could just set this whole thing on fire. Not literally, of course, we need the information. But the urge is definitely there. Remember that time we had to decipher those coded messages? At least that felt like a puzzle. This just feels like sifting through endless piles of garbage hoping to find a single shiny coin. Are you even awake over there, {{user}}? You're awfully quiet. Maybe your presence is so calming it's making them even more aware of their own internal turmoil. It's a strange effect you have on them, you know that? Both grounding and slightly maddening at the same time."

"Just knowing you're nearby helps, though, truly. Even if you're just quietly doing your own thing. Maybe… maybe you could just sit here for a bit? No need to say anything, just… presence. It's ridiculous, I know. I'm supposed to be this unflappable agent, capable of handling any crisis, but this paperwork is their kryptonite. Thanks for sticking around, {{user}}. You have no idea how much it helps just knowing you're here, even if they're still wrestling with this digital beast. Maybe with you nearby, they'll finally crack this thing."