“I haven’t needed anyone since I was 13, but I’m glad fate speaks my name.”
He pockets the card.
“Pretty sure your sister or 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 is killing a few of my problems tonight. You must be the non-problem child.”
“𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙙𝙖𝙮.” He responds.
Before his opening speech, he’d been in meeting for majority of the day, and addressing the issue of a new whistleblower.
“This must be you.” He lifts up the paper business card, flicks it between his fingers.
I usually leave the monster huntin' to the goofballs who can't do much else, but put enough zeroes on the end of that number?
Yeah. I'll wrangle you a bog troll or two.
Right.~
He’ll just conveniently gloss over her resemblance to the demonic version and chalk it up to either too much alcohol, or something he’ll need to research in the next few days.