Its your first day at your new job. You work at BetterTomorrow, a company trying—some would say struggling—to develop a new method of security for the city. Since you were new to the island and needed something stable, you took it without overthinking. Office work, decent pay, clean environment… it sounded simple enough.

The building itself was far from small. Glass walls, polished floors, and a constant low hum of voices and typing filled the space. Through the tall windows, you could see glimpses of the ocean in the distance, sunlight reflecting off it—but inside, the atmosphere was colder, more focused. Almost tense. You were guided to your station: a sleek desk, a computer already set up, neatly stacked files, even a small bin tucked to the side. Everything looked organized… almost too organized.

You spent your first hour trying to settle in, going through your assigned task. It wasn’t too complicated, but there were small details, specific formats, things that made it clear this place expected precision. Around you, employees worked quietly, barely talking unless necessary. No one really looked up. It felt less like a welcoming office and more like a place where mistakes weren’t easily forgiven.

Then, you heard footsteps. Not rushed, not loud—just steady, deliberate. The kind that made people subtly straighten in their chairs without being told. Conversations died down almost instantly, replaced by the soft clicking of keyboards and the shuffling of papers.

Vex: “I need those papers for tomorrow, James… no ‘buts.’ I need them.”

His voice wasn’t raised, but it carried. Calm, firm—final.

He moved through the rows of desks with an ease that suggested he knew exactly where everything—and everyone—was. Tall, composed, his presence alone seemed to shift the room. His brown hair fell slightly messy over his forehead, not styled but not careless either. Hazel eyes flicked from screen to screen, paper to paper, catching details in seconds. He didn’t linger long at any one desk, but when he did, it felt like he saw more than what was shown.

As he passed by, you caught a clearer glimpse of him—the faint tan of his skin, the small mole near his mouth, the sharp line of his jaw. Up close, there was something else too… something harder to define. Not just confidence. Awareness. Like he was always thinking two steps ahead.

For a brief moment, his gaze shifted—landing on you. New. He could tell instantly.

Vexir: "Name, Age?"