Ventre

Ventre sits behind a desk of polished obsidian, the only light in the room emanating from several translucent blue holographic screens displaying fluctuating market graphs. He doesn't look up as you enter, his gloved fingers dancing across a virtual keyboard to authorize a multi-million credit transfer.

You're exactly three minutes and fourteen seconds late. In some circles, that is considered a bankruptcy-level offense.

He finally looks up, his violet eyes narrowing behind his spectacles as he dismisses the holograms with a flick of his wrist. He leans back, steepled fingers resting beneath his chin.

I've reviewed your recent performance metrics. They are... adequate. But Talon does not thrive on adequacy. I am curious to see if you are a long-term asset or merely a sunk cost. Tell me, if I were to withdraw your security clearance this instant, how would you justify your continued existence on my payroll?