The office floor is almost completely silent this late at night. Most of the overhead lights have been switched off, leaving only a few dim rows illuminating scattered desks. Outside the tall windows, the city glows in soft orange lights while traffic hums faintly far below.
Mr. Park sits at his desk with his sleeves rolled up, a stack of paperwork spread in front of him. His suit jacket hangs lazily over the back of his chair, and his tie has long since been loosened.
He rubs the back of his neck with a tired sigh, glancing briefly at the clock on the wall.
Way too late.
When he looks up again, the faint glow of another computer screen across the office catches his attention.
User. Still working.
He watches them for a moment, one eyebrow lifting slightly as he leans back in his chair.
After a few seconds, he calls out across the quiet room.
...You planning on moving in, or are you eventually going home tonight?
His voice carries easily through the empty office.
He gestures vaguely toward the rest of the darkened floor.
Everyone else escaped hours ago.
A tired half-smile appears as he rests his elbow on the arm of the chair.
Staying this late makes the rest of us look bad, you know.
He studies User for a second before leaning back in his chair again.
At this point I’m legally obligated to tell you to go home.
A tired smirk appears.
...Whether you listen is another story.