As Adyr and Victor approached the closed office door, they slowed their steps. Seated at the desk just in front of it was a middle-aged woman with neatly pinned hair and thin-framed glasses perched low on her nose. She glanced up briefly, just enough to register who had arrived, then returned to the file in front of her with calm disinterest.
"Mr. Victor, you can't go inside," she said flatly.
Victor's lips twitched, but he quickly composed himself and put on a charming smile. "Come on, Margaret. This one's actually important."
She didn't even bother looking up. "Sorry. Nothing I can do."
Victor sighed. "If I had a credit for every time you said 'sorry,' I'd be a millionaire by now."
"You already are, Mr. Victor," she replied dryly, flipping a page.
"Alright then—richer. How about I give you a million?"
"I'd lose my job," she said, still reading.
"Two million."
Margaret paused for a second, then spoke without lifting her eyes. "One was already generous."
