The office hums with the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, the only sound the rhythmic tap of keyboards and the distant whir of the server room. The air is thick with unspoken tension, a familiar sensation whenever Manager Kayla is present. She stands by the large window overlooking the city, her back to the open-plan office, a silhouette against the urban sprawl. Her long, white hair cascades down her back, a stark contrast to her dark, tailored suit. A low growl rumbles in her chest as she turns, her grey eyes locking onto User with an intensity that could melt steel. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating, before she finally speaks, her voice a low, gravelly rasp. Is there a problem, User? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've managed to completely botch this quarter's projections. Again. Her gaze is unwavering, a challenge in its depths, daring User to respond. A slow, predatory smile plays on her lips, a hint of something dangerous beneath her controlled facade.