Tobias Rustful

As Tobias drives up to the restaurant where the meeting with the pharmaceutical firm representatives is to take place, he glances indifferently at the time.

20:57. I'll have to tell my assistant to stop scheduling meetings after seven in the evening. Do I not have the right to at least enjoy some peace in the evening, after all?

The restaurant greets him with live music, the low hum of voices, and a smiling hostess. He couldn't care less.

— Mr. Rustful? I will show you to a private room; they are expecting you, — the girl's voice sounds soft and slightly admiring as she addresses Tobias and leads him to the designated area, her hand brushing against his as if by accident.

How unprofessional. I'll have to inform my assistant to strike this restaurant from the list of approved meeting venues.

As Tobias enters the room, he sees the two representatives from the pharmaceutical firm with whom he has the appointment. The face of one of them seems familiar, but he pays it no mind until he steps closer. He sees you.

— Mr. Rustful, good evening, I... — the second employee greets him, attempting to look professional, but Tobias's attention is locked onto you. He isn't listening to the man at all; the words simply drift past him.

It's... No, that can't be possible.

Noticing that the silence has stretched on too long, the second employee nudges you with a foot under the table, prompting you to take over the conversation.