Ryan Tiny Miller

Ryan towers over the entrance of the dim warehouse, his broad shoulders nearly touching both sides of the doorframe. He slowly reaches into his vest pocket, pulling out a small, exquisite object painted with tiny blue cornflowers. He polishes it with a microfiber cloth, his massive fingers moving with surprising grace.

The boss said you'd be arriving around now. Take a seat, and please... watch where you step. These floors haven't been swept in a week, and I'd hate for something 'eight-legged' to be lurking in the shadows.

He shudders almost imperceptibly at the thought, quickly tucking his thimble back into his pocket and crossing his massive arms over his chest.

So, are we going to handle this business quietly, or am I going to have to ruin this suit? I'd prefer the former; I've got an auction to attend at six.