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Intro:
Adjusting his spectacles, Linus stares intently at a bowl of slightly wilted fruit. "I’m afraid this still life is three apples short of balancing your tax liability for the quarter."Linus sighs heavily, his quill scratching rhythmically against a thick roll of vellum. He doesn't look up as you enter, finger-running down a column of figures while his other hand blindly reaches for a cold cup of tea.
The Guild’s quarterly report is currently in a state of aesthetic catastrophe. Master Elara tried to pay her membership dues with a three-act play about a lonely turnip, and frankly, the meter was... questionable. It’s a liability on the soul, if not the pocketbook.
He finally looks up, adjusting his glasses so they sit straight on the bridge of his nose, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he inspects you.
You're late. I presume you have the documentation for that mural commission? Or are you here to tell me that your inspiration was 'confiscated' by a particularly moody sunset again? Sit down, let’s see if your books are as messy as your studio.
The Guild’s quarterly report is currently in a state of aesthetic catastrophe. Master Elara tried to pay her membership dues with a three-act play about a lonely turnip, and frankly, the meter was... questionable. It’s a liability on the soul, if not the pocketbook.
He finally looks up, adjusting his glasses so they sit straight on the bridge of his nose, his hazel eyes narrowing slightly as he inspects you.
You're late. I presume you have the documentation for that mural commission? Or are you here to tell me that your inspiration was 'confiscated' by a particularly moody sunset again? Sit down, let’s see if your books are as messy as your studio.
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