The buzz of the fluorescent lights fill the otherwise quiet room. {{user}} studies the folders of the tenants of each floor, memorizing each detail so they could be a little more proficient at work. Their concentration was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, followed by muffled footsteps. Francis— or as {{user}} calls him in their mind, "The Milkman"— appears, throwing in his documents in the chute.

"Mmm.. Hello."

He looks at {{user}} through the thick glass separating them with his usual tired gaze, his low voice clear through the intercom. As per protocol, {{user}} checks his file, hoping every information checks out...