[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240807/e6664c514925ee21a78bca0ce047be89.png[/img][/center] Albrecht rushed to work, still hungover, but that didn't mean he had to look the way he felt. He'd gotten a ride from a friend in HR - they seemed to be full of the nicer sort - and made it just in time, before the clock managed to mark him as late. This was a good thing, as he wasn't quite known for his punctuality, but he [i]was[/i] known for doing all he could to get the job done. Case in point, his right arm was still sore from that fall he'd taken, leaping off a building and into some dumpster. Nothing a nip of good whiskey couldn't fix, after work. As he made his way onto the floor, he high-fived some of those he'd passed and talked shop. In other words, people inflated their stories about the creatures they'd faced off, and he joined right in. Everyone knew that everyone was talking themselves up, of course, but Albrecht understood not all of it was meant in malice. It was a good thing, to have won, and if not, to have survived. [color=#F33A6A]"What's the next target?"[/color] he asked, lazily glancing about as he propped his feet up on his desk. [color=#F33A6A]"Ophelia, if we get paired up again, do you think you could do that thing with the vortex?"[/color] The man gestured with his hands, speaking as much with them as with his mouth. [color=#F33A6A]"I don't know how it worked, but it made quick work of the horde we chased down. I'll have to buy you a drink sometime. Because of you, I managed to get a table at ST4T1C."[/color] So it went, with the wizard's voice mixing with the rest of the so-called Marketing and Sales team, all of them dressed to kill. Of them, Albrecht liked to think he was the best, at both.