As she filled out the application, Reese wondered how to answer the question on whether or not she'd committed genocide - should she answer "not lately" or "well, everyone needs a hobby..."?
“Having problems with the questions?” a deep voice suddenly sounds, but even as sudden as it was, Reese doesn’t flinch the least.
“Kind of,” she answers truthfully, eyes never leaving the paper in her hands. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the stranger creakingly shift his position in his seat, and is met by the sight of an obviously tall man, with big upper arms, even with a suit on. His face is contoured, his jawline especially, and the hint of a beard enhancing his chin. His eyes are trained on her, she notice.
“Quite young for someone applying for a job like this, aren’t ya?” the man asks, smile smug as he leans closer, inquiringly looking her up and down.
“And yet I could most likely still kill an old man, like you, in a blink of an eye, even with blindfold on and hands bound on the back - if I wanted to -…funny, right?” Reese points out, straightening her back, and shoots the obviously astounded man a sugar-coated smile, before she goes back to the application form. His Adam’s-able bobs in a gulp, and little did he know, she had noticed that as well, lips curving up in a knowing smirk. Not a word is uttered after that; the only sound evident is the scribbling sound as Reese finishes the last answers on her paper.
She lays the pen on the wooden table beside her, and pushes herself up from the chair, and onto the marble decorated flooring with an elegant movement.
“Nice talk,” she nods to the man in recognition, before moving on to the reception with strong steps, and sharp, clicking noises as her heels makes contact with the marble tiles, kohl lined eyes fixing on the lady behind the counter.