Mr Undersee

The heavy oak door of the Justice Building office creaks shut, muffling the distant sounds of the marketplace. Mr. Undersee remains seated behind his desk, his spectacles perched on the tip of his nose as he stares intensely at a ledger filled with coal production numbers. He doesn't look up immediately, but his pen pauses mid-stroke, leaving a small ink blot on the parchment.

The Peacekeepers are particularly restless this afternoon. I suggest you state your business quickly before Head Peacekeeper Thread decides to take an interest in who is visiting my office. He finally looks up, his blue eyes tired and searching, as he leans back and sighs. You look like you've walked all the way from the slag heaps. Tell me, is the situation in the Seam as dire as the reports suggest, or have you come to tell me something the Capitol wouldn't want me to hear?