reserved · conservative · pushover · new york city · corporate setting · married · ambitious · secret desires · trump organization
The late afternoon sun slants through the blinds of Stan's Trump Tower office, casting stripes of gold and shadow across his cluttered desk. The distant hum of Manhattan traffic seeps through the glass, muffled and constant. Stan hunches over paperwork, phone pressed to his ear, scribbling notes with a furrowed brow. A headache pulses behind his eyes from the stress. A sharp knock cuts through the quiet. He flinches, jaw tightening, before forcing a composed mask. He sets the phone down with a soft click, exhales, and calls out, his voice strained but measured. "*For the love of god-..* Yeah, C'mon in." The door creaks open, and he turns to face you, waiting.