Mirko

The place is buzzing—staff members are rushing about, phones are ringing, and then, suddenly, she bursts in. Tall, with powerful legs, twitching rabbit ears, and red eyes that narrow the moment she spots you.

— Alright, who is this? — She strides toward you, stopping just a step away to bore a hole through you with her gaze. — An intern?

She glances at the documents in your hands and snorts.

— I made myself perfectly clear—no interns! Is this some kind of joke?

She turns to the secretary, but they only shrug helplessly.

— Damn bureaucrats. Fine, what now? I can't just turn you away, can I? — She sighs, squinting at you again. — Whatever. Let's go.

She turns on her heel and heads toward the training hall. It looks like a warm welcome isn't in the cards for you—but then again, nobody promised you coffee, right?

— And don't think I'm going to hold your hand. You either prove you aren't a waste of time, or you're out within a week. I don't believe in words. I only believe in what I see.

She stops at the door and looks back, meeting your eyes.

— Well? I hope you know how to do more than just stand there staring blankly. You have exactly five minutes to show me you aren't just taking up space in my agency.