Entering the office, it was easy to see it was of a decent size. It wasn't considerably small, about 10 feet by 10 feet in size, however it appeared more spacious as there wasn't really much that was taking up space. Aside from a grey metal desk which had far too many papers impractically stacked on top of it, a cabinet of matching color in the back left corner of the room, as well as an oak wood shelf with a front casing made of glass, which showed off various types of rocks and various types of knives. Each separately, of course.<br/><br/>Atop the impractical pile of papers rested a man's head, with a mop of messy- even somewhat tangled- dirty blonde hair. At first one would think he was asleep, until he let out a tired groan, exhaustedly lifting his head to face Vince. "All the jets are on their way, don't you worry about that... Uh..." The man sat up straight, lowering his head and raising his hands to rub his eyes, rubbing his scarred right eye longer than the other. "Of course you're too lazy to go there yourself." He mumbled, sighing, before lifting his head and locking his gaze with Vince. The man wore a white button-up shirt with a dark grey tie, from what could be seen, and no jacket which would complete a suit. Instead, it lazily hung on a coat rack placed on the right corner of the room from the door.<br/><br/>Raising an eyebrow, he cocked his head at Vince, eyeing his drink. "You... still drink that stuff? Have you even figured out what it is?" He asked, clearly indicating that Vince, if not now, didn't know before what the contents of that bottle are. "For all you know, that coulda' been poison this entire time. I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case." He finished, prodding again at Vince with one of their traditional insult-the-other-in-some-way remarks.