On the verge of desperate. Sylvester teetered on the edge of financial crisis as he sat in the ever-daunting abys of unemployment. Today's world expected fancy degrees and impressive work histories for their hiring decisions... two things Sylvester was painfully lacking. He had all the competency and exhibited a common sense that many of these graduates didn't seem to possess, but no matter where he turned in his resume, or how many times, he barely got so much as a phone call or email in response. If someone would just give him a chance, he thought, he would have been more than able to prove his worth... but maybe he was setting his standards too high.<br/><br/>Syl had set himself to the goal of refusing to take another job unless it was doing something he loved. He'd learned from his mother's mistakes, having spent much of his childhood watching herself work herself to near-death in misery. She hated her jobs, but being a single mother, she couldn't complain about work as long as it paid well enough to keep food on the table and clothes on their backs. It never helped that the stubborn woman refused to turn to government aid-- she always made ends meet, even if it meant going days with barely any sleep and not a moment of her own personal time. She passed on just after the youngest of her three children blew out the candles in celebration of adulthood, and Sylvester had to reason that it was likely from the amount of stress she endured in her life up until then.<br/><br/>While she was in the hospital, just before she'd succumbed to her body's weakness, she told Sylvester something she wished she'd told herself a long time ago.<i>It's one thing to keep food on the table, and one thing to work hard in whatever you do... but don't make yourself miserable. Find something you love and do it. Never settle for doing what you hate; there are plenty of ways to make ends meet without putting yourself in a box without sunshine.</i>She had basically encouraged him to quit school, because of how much he was hating his college classes, and wanted him to pursue a career in something that would make him happy. She told him he should find a career that he was passionate about. And that was what drew him to today.<br/><br/>He found his passion most especially in art. Things like antiques, old things, and rare things followed in his list of interests-- it was amazing to find elements of art even in the craftsmanship of old furniture or hand-crafted dishes. He took a passive interest in photography as well, although he certainly didn't have much of a knack for it. He'd submitted his resume to this job on a bit of a whim, mostly because he -for once- met all the criteria listed on the job posting. He honestly thought it was just a negligence to 'state the obvious', however. Part of Sylvester expected his interviewer to be sorely disappointed if he started looking into his straight 'qualifications'. Syl could only hope that he got a chance to prove himself in practice rather than in experience.<br/><br/>Shortly after ringing the doorbell, a handsome young man with sparkling green eyes answered the door. Syl had to steel himself in the face of Theo's unexpected appearance, but a genuine smile sprang to his lips when he greeted what appeared to be one of the estate's staff. He was invited inside and led through the foyer to an adjoined sitting room. Sylvester allowed his eyes to wander and admire the décor, noting a few particularly beautiful and valuable pieces that were no doubt part of a personal collection. Once they stepped over the threshold to the sitting room, Syl's body went a little rigid.<br/><br/>His transparent blue eyes scanned over the scene before him, taking in a neko sitting on the floor in what appeared to be a state of submission. Why? Did society really dictate that a rich man - now that he couldn't just<i>own</i>a neko- would take to paying for one to act like a submissive slave instead? His stomach tightened; even if the neko was there out of some sense of loyalty, it didn't sit right with him. He couldn't work for someone like that... that would treat these<i>people</i>like animals. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with nekos himself, but he knew they were no different than people, at least in his eyes. To see one in such a state... he only pictured himself in the same position and found it sickening.<br/><br/>Something seemed off. Even though the scene before him seemed to obviously be a man owning a neko, it didn't make sense that an asshole like this would want to hire someone like him. After brushing his thumb along the edge of his beard, following his jawline up to his ear, he realized he'd been staring in silence for too long now. "I'm sorry," He murmured, clearly taken aback, "Is this a joke?" He gestured between Jason and Max, clearly bothered although somehow, he managed to keep his composure. "Three years ago, this might have been acceptable, but it feels like you're just testing me for a reaction." One thing of note was that he wasn't just speaking to Jason; he looked at Max when he talked as well.<br/><br/>Sylvester's height only really showed when he stood next to Theodore. His off-the-rack suit fit him well enough, but he looked a little like a stick in the thinning cut of the fabric. His sandy brown hair had been styled conservatively-- professional but still complimenting of his appearance. And up until he laid eyes on such an appalling scene, he'd been holding himself in a professional but friendly demeanor, with confidence holding his posture high. Now, however, his face was completely serious, eyes betraying his emotions. He'd even forgotten the politeness of introducing himself or thanking<i>whoever</i>for inviting him to an interview. He realized he could be taken as incredibly rude, but if he botched an interview with an asshole, he didn't count it as much of a loss.<br/><br/>On the other hand, supposing it was a test, his sharp gaze fell on Max once again. The collar didn't fit him-- as a matter of a fact, it didn't suit the man who was sitting in position of master, or the décor that graced what little of the estate he'd seen. He ventured a guess that Max very well could be the neko, or even the young face who answered the door. He'd reasoned that nothing could be as it appeared upon first glance. "Sylvester Riddlehart..." he felt a little lost for words. Apparently, he'd already shown he didn't handle surprises well.