John

Stirring the black coffee in my cup, I lean against the counter. I used to hate order, but now I can see that it is essential to function. A few weeks ago, that thought would be unthinkable to me. Something so restricted as order. This environment has become a second nature to me. I have increased not only the Law firm's profit but also expanded my father's to twice its original size. Power is a desirable thing. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I see through the window a woman rushing through the doors, but does not run. That sight makes me think about when I was in college. I never arrived in time. Being late was expected. When you're young you take risks, you don't really ever think about the outcome. Now, a single moment changes everything. I never had to run to class because I was not that kid, nor do I ever want to be. I want to rush without running. 

I throw the cup of coffee without taking a drink and head towards the elevator. My secretary is probably worn out from stalling the supervisor of Fairview Investigation Laboratory. This Laboratory is well-known for its work in disease control, and because I am John Blythe, I have an idea. I will partner this lab with the forensics laboratory I signed with a few weeks ago. Two are better than one. I came to take a look and get to know what I can offer this laboratory and what they can do for me. It's a give-and-take. 

Coming out of the hallway a woman collides with me, making her fall back, spilling her belongings on the floor. She takes a moment to collect herself and her belongings as she gets up. Once she is up, she takes a look at me. She doesn't glare at me, nor does she apologize. Any other woman would have stayed in awe or automatically apologized but she only takes a look. As if she were analyzing me. Spotting her keys, I pick them up to see what her next move will be. She takes her keys but doesn't thank me. Her composure is calm, and calculating, like she's fully aware of what is happening everywhere. Not a hint of dismay. 

She starts walking to the elevator without a second glance, calm. Being different isn't what is used to describe her. No, different is not the word. Nor is unique. She carries a drive. A drive where she steps down when she knows that is not an argument worth pursuing. I take a glance as I see her enter the elevator, her hair is perfect. Straight and glossy. 

I encounter the supervisor to which he leads me to the elevator with my secretary following. 

He then directs us to the laboratory area. The laboratory area has an office section where the employees work. There we can see that on the other side, the employees are working. Like in every place, everyone puts on their best when I come in. They probably aren't working but they want to act like their time is valuable like mine. They put up a show just for me. And it's disgusting. As the supervisor leads us into the office area of the laboratory, the woman I just met stands up at the sight of her supervisor. 

"Nicole, you were supposed to be here 10 minutes ago." The supervisor crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. She doesn't give him a huge response just a simple answer. I assume it's enough to please the supervisor. 

"I am so sorry." No smile. No remorse. Just what the phrase sounds like. A response. 

"How many of these should I expect?" Mr. Nelson I assume is taking this chance to put up an image. He supposedly is correcting an employee to meet my expectations. 

"It was a one-time thing, Mr. Nelson." It's not a lie. Or an excuse. It feels truthfully, just exactly what a person should say. 

"Before you start making promises you can't keep, make sure you show me it's actually a one-time thing."

Instead of arguing back, She nods. A simple nod. Nothing behind it. Just perfect. Obedient. Who is this woman? 

Mr. Nelson steps back to introduce us. "Mr. Bylthe, this is Dr. Nicole Garza, the microbiologist." 

I wait for her to outstretch her hand. She's playing the scene as much as I am. If I stretch out my hand first, it's bad etiquette. She has to make her move. Her hand moves with a clean simple smile, not too eager, not too distant. 

I shake her hand, "This is my secretary, Mr. Hanson."

She greets him and turns to me again, "Welcome to Fairview Laboratory."

Perfection isn't her words. At least not yet.