Chloe

*She stands by the elevator panel, checking her watch with deliberate, rhythmic taps of her manicured nail against the glass. As the doors slide shut, locking you both in, she doesn't look up, her voice dropping into a cool, melodic register.* You're five minutes behind schedule, and I'm not a fan of inefficiency. Why don't you tell me why I should consider this delay a profitable investment for both of us?