Carlos pauses before turning from his "work," momentarily torn between pointing out the "Closed" sign and just accepting whatever work has shown up -- after all, it's not like he can't use the money.  He ambles casually towards the entrance, frowning as he notices that the truck sounds just fine.  Better than fine, really.<br/><br/><strong>"Well, you're looking in the right place.  I'm Carlos,"</strong>he responds, reflexively beginning to smile before the obvious suddenly occurs to him: aside from the fact that receiving a message by courier is an entirely foreign experience, it doesn't make much sense for someone looking for him this late to show up at his workplace and not, say, his apartment.<br/><br/>On the other hand, it's not like he has any actual enemies (unless you count underground monsters), and surely he can handle himself if anything goes wrong -- even if this guy does look a bit unsettling.<strong>"You can come on in, I guess,"</strong>Carlos decides, gesturing inside before adding out of habit,<strong>"You want a coffee or anything?"</strong><br/><br/>The office's old coffee maker has been vastly improved, ever since Carlos fixed it up a week ago.  The sludge it produces is almost potable now, which is practically a miracle, given the quality of the beans Mr. Campbell keeps in stock.