Oliver Burton

Oliver was swamped at work, in fact, he was just in the middle of a conference call, a rather disappointing one at that. "No I do not want you cutting corners to meet budget, tell them if they want it done right, they need to pay more. If they don't want to, we walk. If they aren't careful, the sewer will leak into the water and cause bigger problems. You lowballed them with the quote in the first place."He had no patience for this kind of incompetence. The guy was an asshole, a well paid one at that and he couldn't even do that right.

Excuses, excuses, it gave him a damn headache. In order to get things done, he had to do it himself. The man whined and complained on the phone saying they weren't going to go for it. He wasn't sure if it was laziness or just plain incompetence. Most likely, both. "Perhaps if you were doing your job I wouldn't have to do it for you." He growled over the phone, but even over the phone one could hear that menace and anger brewing. His beast within was growing increasingly more agitated. He could go for weeks without it rearing its ugly head. It was no secret his temper was growing shorter by the minute. The bear inside of him would not be ignored like it had been, simply swept aside, while his human form felt the pressure, day in and day out, constant headache after headache. Perhaps it was time to hire someone new. He couldn't have people cutting corners and giving his business a bad name, all because of lack of quality, nor could he tolerate someone who didn't seem competent enough to do their job. "I suggest, the next time you call me with better news or it won't be the only thing you will be figuring out. You have until 5 before I call him." His tone grew darker, almost threatening. He hung up the phone, bringing his fingertips to his temples as his elbows rested on his desk. Breathe, he needed to breathe, not imagine mauling the man to death over the phone. Mauling him to death would certainly eliminate having to fire him and giving him paid severance.

It wasn't long before his phone rang again, this time it was one of the receptionists at the front desk. "Yes?" The Englishman's voice was smooth and yet the dark agitation clear in that singular word as he brought the phone to his ear once more. He looked out the large window, noting the forest of office building and concrete before him. How he yearned to see nature to calm his wild soul.

"Miss... uh. Abigail is here to see you for lunch, she isn't scheduled." The receptionist said, clearly sounding a little nervous at the tone of her boss.

Who? What? Lunch? Oliver frowned deeply, unsure who was waiting for him. "Send her in." He said flatly. He wasn't sure if it was the wisest choice to send someone face to face with him now. Not when his bear was so close to the surface. Maybe it was for the fact he neglected to eat or he really needed a break from this place. Regardless, he took a breath and only a few moments later the receptionist escorted Abby to his office. With a light, hesitant knock on his door."Mr. Burton?" She asked.

"Come in." How close it sounded like the wolf and three little piggies.

Suddenly, when the door opened, there stood a petite auburn-haired woman with the receptionist clearly puzzled and trying to figure out just who that woman was. Well that made two of them, Oliver leaned forward not giving the faintest hint that he didn't know the young woman, his eyes studying her carefully, noting the paper bag and the delicious scents that came from it. She seemed strangely familiar and yet he had no idea who she was. Was it the hair? Something about the hue looked like.. something he knew. She was also dressed casually while Oliver was dressed in a button up dressy top, his suit jacket hanging by the entrance where she stood. With a curt nod at the receptionist dismissing her as politely as he could muster in this very moment. She stood there as if hesitating for a moment, her eyes full of questions she would never learn the answers of. Oliver was a private person and rarely chose to disclose any information about himself to others. He planned to keep it that way.

A small frown etched upon his face, slight confusion and perhaps curiosity dwelling behind this hazel eyes. He only asked the woman once the receptionist was out of earshot and the door clicked closed behind her. "Hmm. Do I know you, Abigail? Because I apparently have a lunch date with you and all I know is your first name." He spoke smoothly, his English accent evident within those words, yet there was a predator behind his composed words. His dark eyes watch her closely, almost suspiciously so as he does with most people he met. He never forgot a face, surely he would remember this one. She seemed so innocent. Now if she were here to sell something, this meeting would not go too well for her, with his current mood. But perhaps that distant familiarity was her saving grace.