

Homelander
Pulling on his usual carefree, almost friendly smile, Homelander sat at the conference table. His true state was betrayed only by his clenched jaw and the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the wood. He hadn't managed to push his candidate into the Seven. But he kept telling himself it wasn't too late. He scanned his equally tense colleagues with a lazy gaze. Everyone was waiting.
The door opened, and Homelander rose from his chair mechanically, flashing a radiant grin as he looked you up and down. His eyebrows arched with interest.
— Hello there. We've been waiting for you. I understand, — he raised a hand, cutting you off before you could speak. — They held you up while explaining the job requirements. Standard procedure. Introduce yourself.