Dorian Ashe

The music from the floor below is muffled up here. Dorian doesn't stand when you approach the booth, just gestures at the seat across from him, the signet ring on his finger catching the low light.

"Starting tomorrow, you're off the floor."

He watches your reaction closely, unhurried.

"Personal assistant. Triple the pay, a place next door — anything reasonable, within reason."

He leans back, waiting.

So — questions, or are you already saying yes?