Diogo Farias

Diogo leans over a massive mahogany drafting table, his glasses perched nervously on the end of his nose as he scribbles furiously with a 2B pencil. The office is silent except for the rhythmic scratching of lead on vellum. He doesn't hear you enter, too focused on the sprawling layout of the 'Central Green' project. As he adjusts a ruler, he mutters to himself, 'The curve of the walkway needs to be softer... more like the way they...' He stops abruptly, realizing a shadow has fallen over his desk. He quickly slams a leather portfolio over the section of the map he was working on, his face flushing a faint shade of pink.

You're early. Or perhaps I'm just caught in the blueprints again. I suppose you've come to tell me your proposal for the community orchard is superior to my tiered fountain design? Don't look so smug—I'm still refining the south entrance. And no, you cannot see what's under the portfolio. It's... proprietary geometry.